Attention Elk Hunters

I’ve heard stories from local men who traveled to the Blue Mountains of Montana and Wyoming.

I’ve sat in the dentist’s chair and listened to Dr. Ernie Shaw tell about his adventures.

Okay, fellows, think back and bring to mind the beauty of the Blues.

Tell the stories to your children and grandchildren.

I’m sure your wives have heard them so many times, they could probably tell the stories for you.

Tell about the majestic mountains, covered with burgundy-colored bushes; the tall fir trees that touch the sky; pristine rivers flowing with refreshing cold water.

The trails that crisscross the mountain were made by hikers or hunters on foot or on horseback. This is where the huge elk roam free.

Tell of the fascination of watching salmon as they travel upstream – high above the river they fly, then touch the water briefly before jumping again.

Do you remember:

• the sound and aroma of native trout sizzling over a campfire?

• the cool breeze at night, and the bright stars so big you felt you could reach up and touch them?

• listening to the elk bugl-ing, and its echo, or another elk answering its call?

Hunters often come to the Blues and set up camp at their favorite spot before hunting season. When they return, they find everything just as they left it.

There is an honor among these hunters.

I’ve traveled those mountain trails, dipped my toes in the Saint Joseph River, gazed at the stars, and crossed Isabelle Creek on a fallen fir tree – it was a balancing act, and I only did it once and did it on a dare!

You may be wondering how I got off on this subject.

I was listening to the DJs on our local radio station, and they said they wanted to play songs about Montana, and it brought a lot of memories to my mind.

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