I always enjoy myself in DeBeque. The people are great, our ranches never fail to tickle my senses, and there is something genuinely exciting about seeing a plan actually take shape physically on the land. But it was the day before the opening elk season up on the Wyoming Ranches and the nose of the F-350 was pointed north, me grinning at the wheel. I’ve always looked forward to opening day since I got my first rifle at the age of five.

I mused on the pleasant tingle of anticipation as I drove. I suppose if one were to ever lose that enthusiasm it would be time to give up going afield. True hunters, those that hunt much but harvest little by choice, enjoy the mysterious connection between hunter, quarry and the land.  For us this is truly the most special time of the year.

I was joining my brother-in-law, Jay, and our two long-time buddies from points west. Later I looked forward to a visit by my daughter, her fiancé and my son. I expected some great midday fishing too, as there always is just before ice up, prior to the adventure of the first snows and perhaps first snow-bounds in the very isolated high country of the Laramies.

As if to confirm my thoughts, hours later when I turned from pavement to the dirt of Ft. Fetterman Road, the moon was rising amidst the grey and pink of a coming dusk sky. It seemingly emerged right out of the horizon, which was my destination. It mixed the silvery scene of autumn promise with the dying light of a sinking sun, bidding adios to the last of lingering summer.

Photo by Reid L. Rosenthal Copyright 2008