A soft rustling in the branches overhead sends a gentle whisper through the forest. Without the sun, the trees were unable to hold much heat and their naked limbs looked as if they were shivering. The remaining constellations peaked through the crisped leaves and twisted shrubbery, allowing a small amount of the dim light to reach the ground. My breath rose in vaporous clouds and dissipated amidst the chaos of hibernating vegetation.

I paused for a moment to soak up the silence, and then continued on with the hike. The importance of getting settled before the elk and deer began to move around is immeasurable and a necessity. Their highly developed sense of smell, and my dampened clothes would not make a very conducive combination for this early morning hunt. Wearing camouflage and scent blockers was not enough to keep the hooved creatures from worrying about their surroundings. I couldn’t imagine living every minute in fear. A constant feeling of being watched or hunted would have to corrode the mind. I guess that’s why their brains are so small.

The frost was now beginning to melt with the increasing temperature and muffled my every step. The sun still wasn’t up but the ruby light was now glittering on the side of the mountain. The valley I was hiking towards was now clearly visible as a thin fog hung over the steaming creeks that cut through the dried grass. Willows skirted the outside of every water source and their chaotic branches stood erect in every direction, sheltering whatever may have wanted to lay on the other side.

The valley appeared to have been some sort of crater, like a bowl in the mountains waiting to fill up. Shallow creeks gurgled and bubbled like veins through the one hundred yard field. After staring, and looking over the valley, I set up my spot under a large pine tree with high rising branches. By now, the sun had finally climbed the rugged terrain and was beginning to spill gold over the area.

I removed my pack and pulled the rifle off my shoulder with the slowest and most silent movements I could muster. Using the backpack as a rather stiff pillow, I leaned it against the tree and placed my gun across my lap. Daring not to put my hands in my pockets, I pulled my sleeves down over my fingers and rested them across the cold metal and synthetic stock.

The dried grass in the valley began to shift and ripple with any breeze that laced its way through it. The fluid movement reminded me of the way clouds get shoved around by the wind over Wyoming. A group of crows began to pop up and tried to fly against the increasing wind. After a few minutes of failed attempts, they give up and either return to the ground or let it take them elsewhere. Probably just getting some exercise I thought to myself, and went back to scoping the valley.

On the far, south West side of the bowl was a group of elk, only two bulls and a handful of cows with their calves. I waited for them to gain some ground and get closer to me. After almost twenty minutes of them sauntering and slowly inches across the valley, they were close enough that I could make a pick. One big bull walking at the front of the heard stopped and left me with a picturesque memory of him. His large 6x6 antlers were a dark brown with small flecks of tan that matched his neck and the rest of his body. The steam escaping his nose was only visible for a moment, and then vanished as it rose over his chestnut fur.

The silence and my admiration of the creature were shattered when a cacophonous scream reverberated through the area. The vibrations from the shriek seemed to hit me harder then the actual noise and I froze. The elk bounded away through the same way they entered the valley. I looked sharply to my left towards the most northern point of the forest; a large shadow disappeared into the trees.