It would appear that Spring has finally arrived in our high mountain valley.
The circle of life begins anew; hopefully our little bit of earth will bless us with good and ample food this season.
That's our faith.

We headed back to the big mountain late Sunday morning, with the girls to keep us company.
After all we could do, after miles logged and a few more afoot, we couldn't find another turkey. But no matter, we had a fine time looking around and smelling the scents as spring breaks upon the Boulder.

Ryan and I headed out early to be on the Boulder and, hopefully, to fill a turkey tag.
The wind whistled and the snow glistened, and while we couldn't count on too much edge from my hunting prowess or call skills, we had hope. Always hope.
After ranging far and wide, fishing here and there, and maneuvering the old 'Runner past many a snowbank, at the end of the day we got a hip shot off on a bionic turkey hightailing up a forty degree incline at fifty miles per hour.
I missed.