There’s a place I know where a man can escape the prairie winds that howl across the top of the buttes. A place where the overwhelming silence is a welcome companion. A place where the coyote, hawk and mule deer are often more curious by your presence than they are alarmed.
I can’t tell you where this place is, I’m sad to report. You see, I prefer to keep this place a secret in order to protect it. It is that special to me, and to my friend Ed as well. Don’t waste your time asking him its location, as he won’t tell you either. Matter of fact, he’s probably less apt to tell you than I am.
Our special place isn’t a fancy hunting lodge in the Rocky Mountains, nor is it only reachable by bush plane. You can drive to it, if the conditions are right and you have a four wheel drive vehicle. Or a horse I suppose. Go there at the wrong time of year, however, and you’ll never make it all the way there without burying your vehicle up to the axle in sticky, clay like mud.
That being said, once you make it to our spot, you’ll be changed forever. What once seemed like endless prairies of nothingness suddenly turn to scenic views that will take your breath away. You can see for miles from our place, and you can glass for wildlife from sun up until sun down without ever looking over the same patch of grass twice.
We go there to chase Merriam turkeys with longbows and wood arrows, much like the Sioux did prior to the white man’s hostile takeover. They say there are tipi rings still visible in the area, but I haven’t found any yet. I’ve also been told that the famous Sioux chief Crazy Horse himself hunted this place while listening to the wind whisper through the cedars. Ah yes, it is a magical place. However, there is one undesirable consequence to coming here and spending time roaming the game trails in these canyons…
…you will forevermore long to return.