We followed the old logging road into timber company land behind a locked gate. It was mid-morning after an early hunt in which I saw a coyote and my wife had a bear feed to within 20 yards of her in the brush. I traced its tracks with my fingertip and wished I had seen it. We stopped to pick blackberries in the warm September sun and then headed for the ridge top.
This was Merrilee’s first hunt for anything bigger than a jackrabbit and I was glad to have her along. There were no distractions out here in the woods beyond flushing mountain quail or a chattering squirrel. From high atop a ridge we could look down through the valley and see smoke rising from the chimney of a distant farmhouse or clasp our hands behind our heads and watch the wisps of cloud drift across the sky.