I can’t help it. It is hunting season, or almost, and I have hunting on my mind. Now, mind you I don’t have shooting an elk or antelope or even a deer raised in alfalfa fields for a couple of years, no, it is not that that I dream about. It is the eats, in a word.
My father and his brothers must have loved cabins. Anyway during fishing season we lived in a cabin most of the summer in the Bear Paw Mountains on Clear Creek. That was true in the fall when those fishing camps would turn into hunting camps as well.
In those days there were few elk in this neck of the woods and no permits ever given...
