It's been a life-long dream to hunt elk in the wilds of "somewhere else", so I bought a guided hunt in Idaho after we sold my dad's membership in "the duck club". At first I thought it was just going to be a drive on the ATV to find some elk, and the guide would say "shoot that one", but that's not quite how it happened! I'm still sore from the little bit of hiking we did, through groves of quakies, up and down hills, threading our way through blowdown while navigating the frozen ground. We found elk, shadowy, elusive creatures who could somehow move silently and effortlessly over ground I had difficulty just putting one foot in front of the other, but in the end, the Remington 700 broke the silence, followed by twenty or so footfalls and a heavy crash in the aspens. Then silence. View attachment 44963 Now I have almost 400lbs of prime elk meat in the freezer. View attachment 44964 But one thing I learned, is that (for me) bringing one down is not a time for orgasmic high fives, whooping and hollering; it's a time for sorrow at the ending of the life of a magnificent creature, and gratitude for his sacrifice. Above all, it's a time to honor this great beast, with respect and dignity.