I was hunting elk in the Missouri River Breaks in my home state of Montana.
I woke up earlier than normal that morning. I had been chasing around a particular bull for a couple days and thought I finally had his number. He wasn't a huge bull, a really pretty six point, probably around 340ish but looked like he should be on the cover of a magazine, just plain handsome.
I hiked in 3.5 - 4 miles before the sun came up and met him halfway to the bedding ground he and his cows were headed for as the greys turned to pinks and shooting light finally made it across the horizon.
For 3 - 4 hours I gave that bull my full repotoire of elk calls, I would rush in to make something happen then 10 seconds later I would be running the other direction as fast as I could retreating from the fickle wind currents. The entire morning I was anywhere from 30 to a hundred yards from the bull and at any moment I knew if I kept dogging him sooner or later something would happen and I would put it together.
In the end the bull bedded with his cows in a dense patch of junipers in a steep ravine. Though I had vowed that I would either kill this bull or run him out of the county that day something told me to walk away. I started the long uphill hike to the truck.
When I got back to the truck, exhausted, the good kind of exhausted that comes from a morning of chasing elk and your both physically and emotionally wasted but raring to come back after a meal and a nap and do it all over again, I remember looking to the sky and noticing how beautiful it looked, a deep, rich, blue with neither a cloud or com trail to be seen. I also remember how thankful I was, thankful to live in a place where I was free to do the thing I loved the most. I found myself feeling strangely fulfilled and at peace with every thing, my job, my family, Life.
I turned on the radio to the NPR to hopefully get a local weather report and that is when I heard the news, strange how the events of my morning suddenly seemed so small and inconsequential and at the same time so important and meaningful.
I remember pulling into camp that morning, almost rushing to tell everyone the news. But as I pulled in everyone was gathered around a small am/fm radio someone had pulled out and the looks of reverence on the faces of those gathered around told me with a clarity that words can not relate, that everyone already knew.
I did not know anyone in the towers, I have never even been to NY. However, simply being an American tied me to those people that morning in a way similar to the bond of brothers and sisters. That day left me with a sense of gratitude and country I would not have had that tragedy not occured.
Never Forget.
JT
