Freedomizing

In Meeker's vale, where mountains touch the skies, An alfalfa field before us calmly lies. Two hundred fifty elk, a sight to glean, To move unseen a task, nigh unforeseen. Our guide named Hugh, and Father by my side, We hunker down, in quiet we abide. At last I spot him—five by five, the bull, Amidst his kin, the scene is nearly full. A hundred thirty-eight yards separates, My steady aim on destiny debates. For three long minutes, in my sight he stays, But cow elk guard him, blocking aim and gaze. I dare adjust—alert, they bark and flee, My chance arrives, as if by fate's decree. The cows disperse, the bull steps forth alone, My rifle speaks; its aim and end are known. Down falls the bull, as twilight fades from view, Amidst the field and mountains' varied hue. A tale to pass, from elder unto youth, Of patience, skill, and undying truth.