![]() You have to feel the way aspen leaves float down to the ground in a shower of yellow rain when there isn’t even a breeze. There might be a writer somewhere that could describe the lonely beauty of that distant peak, but I can’t.Ī writer has to describe the way a place feels as much as how it looks. We were camped so high and so deep in the Rockies that I felt like a Blackfoot Indian might be looking over my shoulder. Several years back I got to spend the best of October in the mountains of Colorado, where I killed a bull elk. ![]() You have no idea how big a timber wolf looks at dusk in the wilderness, pondering Labrador for dinner. Old Rambunctious and I covered more ground that evening than usual getting back to my pickup, miles away, and there wasn’t a hair on the neck of either one of us that wasn’t standing straight up. That evening way back in the bush, a big beautiful grey timber wolf eyed up my Labrador and I from a gentle rise ahead of us, on a little-used wilderness trail. I recall a time in deep woods around Lake of the Woods when I shot a limit of four grouse late in the evening after catching two four-pound smallmouth out in the far reaches of that beautiful lake, and a limit of crappie and walleye before noon. One October evening I caught a ten-pound walleye in Manitoba’s Red River after hunting geese all morning. We would start on the Lake of the Woods in northwest Ontario and then move over into Manitoba’s prairie pothole country where ducks and geese numbered in the millions. I once spent most of October in Canada, fishing for walleye, crappie and smallmouth, and hunting ruffed grouse and ducks and geese. Ain’t October wonderful! It’s the best month of the year for fishing and hunting, except maybe for November and April, and possibly May and December.
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