Author pretends to sleep while guarding pickup from unwary elk attack.
When my physical therapist told me her husband had already arrowed an elk this archery season I was overjoyed for him but not necessarily surprised.
His dad was an inveterate hunter, willing to track and stalk a trophy animal for miles and days if necessary to make the kill of a lifetime. I've known Drew since he was a kid and his old man's blood runs through his veins. And knowing that, I didn't ask his wife - while she was working the knots out of my shoulders - if he had saved the hide. The last elk I asked about had to be cached overnight, and then quartered and packed out six miles by a p...
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