Victor was up at 5 a.m. gathering supplies, which consisted of PB&J sandwiches and string cheese, knives placed on the belt, hunter-orange vests, rifles, ammo; the wearing of plaid flannel shirts, boots, hats with silly ear flaps, and the pinnacle of hunting .... THE 1979 CHEVY PICKUP! There must be no Suburbans in the mountains! Of course, about 15 minutes after the men drove off, about 8 bucks walked through the front yard. And where we live, it's legal to shoot them if they are on our property munching on the lawn.
Matthew didn't have an orange vest so he wore his big sister Brooke's, bright orange hooded sweatshirt. He looked like a pumpkin! He's sticking his tongue out in this picture. Ignore it, he's eleven.
When they returned, they were tired and sore from walking up a mountain and never seeing anything but beautiful scenery. We live straight north of Yellowstone Park and it seems that every critter that inhabits this area has walked through our property and stopped to poop or die which our two dogs love to roll in, only after it has had time to ripen. Hunting season lasts until Nov. 30th, so better luck next weekend boys!