I think he was a bit envious of the gusto and enthusiasm that I was spewing out in our tent at 5:15am that morning. My dad and I exited our tent to make our way towards the cook tent and the smell of strong coffee instantly filled my nostrils. I could hear the vivid sound of every twig and dried leaf crack and shatter beneath my new hunting boots. I had never heard this kind of peaceful quiet in my life.
"Snow on the ground means blood on the ground in an hour." I wasn't even sure if I had heard those words right when our guide first spoke them earlier in our tent, nor did I have any idea what it might mean. It didn't even register to me until I mounted my horse named Boogie, that a fresh three inch layer of white snowy powder had comforted the mountainside during the night. Our guide turned around from his lead horse and explained that when the sky provides a fresh layer of snow during the night, it makes his ability to track and find herds of elk that much easier. He advised us to be on alert, to be quiet and to watch for his hand signals in the event that he spots a worthy bull elk to take.
The sun began to wake up for its daily changing of the guards with the moon. I heard a pack of coyotes barking in the distance as if honoring the suns return. As the sun peaked over the ridges of the mountain above us, it was like an original forest oil painting being created right before my eyes. As we approached a far reaching open draw leading up the mountain, our guide stopped his horse in front of us and extended his right arm out in slow motion. I had learned earlier that this meant that we were to very slowly and quietly lift off of our horses and get both feet on the ground and get ready to shoot. My dad was already off of his horse with his gun un-holstered before I even realized what was happening. While still atop my horse, my brain told me to slowly look up the mountain and to focus on an area about two hundred yards ahead, just at the end of the draw.