Winter Wonderland

The Blacktail Deer population of Western Washington are pleased to report they survived another season of yours truly lugging his rifle over the hill and through the woods.  I aspire to one day approach hunting in a more serious fashion, scouting in the spring and summer, planning each hunt in detail, sighting in my rifle, and having my gear meticulously packed weeks in advance. 

As it stands, my current technique is more akin to "I think I'll go hunting this weekend.  Has anyone seen my rifle?".

My outdoor equipment is kept in a series of rubbermaid bins, clearly marked with the subject of their contents, such as "camping", "hunting", and, of course, two marked "horse".  On the surface this would seem to simplify matters, except for the one variable in the equation.  Me.  I tend to lack consistency in where I put certain essential items, such as my Survival & First Aid Kits.  Since they are most often carried when riding, they can usually be found in the horse bin.  But if last carried while hunting, I probably left them in the aforementioned hunting bin.  Or worse, left them in an unrelated location.  Case in point:  my binoculars are sitting on my dresser right now, where I put them to dry.  With any luck, I might return them to their proper location before next season.

The net result is that packing consists of a mad scramble to find and pack my gear, and usually consists of me throwing things around the garage and cursing, all while attempting to locate the less important items, such as bullets and hunting license.

When one considers that Blacktail Deer are considered by many to be the most elusive, difficult to hunt members of genus Odocoileus, it becomes clear that I am not exactly setting myself up for success.  Maybe someday.  At least I enjoy being out in the wilderness. 

Mother Nature was kind in that she provided a nice treat in the Cascade Foothills this past weekend:

 

At times, it was snowing so hard that visibility was down to a hundred yards.  I had to keep shaking the accumulated snow off my hat.

 

There was no wind, and when one stopped and stood perfectly still, the most noticeable thing was the unbroken silence.  Not a sound.  Nary a rustling leaf, or chirping bird.  The kind of silence that should only be found in a tomb.  Eerie is the only word that adequately describes the sensation.

Since it was deer season, the elk were plentiful:

 

Can you see her? (Click to enlarge)

A rather good weekend, I daresay.

In other news, Smokey Joe got a new blanket.  I think the color is rather apropos, myself.