Elk Songs & Sentiment...

My boys are going to think going on a bull elk hunt is an annual thing.

We've gotten so lucky and become somewhat accustomed to someone in the family drawing a tag for a bull elk.   Well gents... You don't know how lucky you are.

Ryan and I wanted them to be there.  We wanted them to hear the music of the elk.  To listen to those big animals sing their haunting notes.  Watching little men crane their necks and hold their breath as they waited for the next bellow in one of nature's best songs was a favorite moment.

We wanted them to see the vibrant gold leaves in the sun rays juxtaposed against the evergreen trees - that color palette with it's prismatic light belongs solely to Mother Nature.  A camera can never quite do it justice, but when you witness it with your own eyes, you know you're seeing a masterpiece.  

We wanted them to think they were part of Grandpa's big bull hunt.  When my sister-in-law, Carrie got her world record elk two years ago, my Kael "was there".  And by that I mean he was at the Wayne house with Grandma and Sophie, but when they got the call on the radio that a kill had been made, they jumped in the truck and helped load that big animal off the mountain.  If you could hear him talk about it you might think he actually made the kill shot.  In his mind he played an integral role from start to finish and he was a key part of the hunting posse that shot the trophy elk.  We wanted a similar situation for Dax and Ace and even little Boone.

So we schlepped.  I packed every article of tiny camouflage clothing our house holds.  I planned layers for varying temperatures, and boots for snow, and boots for hiking, and hats for tiny noggins. And we made it to our spot.

It was worth it.  They heard the song of the elk.  They saw the colors of fall.  They smelled Mother Nature's sweet breath and they "helped" load Grandpa's big bull elk off the mountain side.

We did it all in the territory that their Great Grandpa Torval helped establish.  He built roads there.  He hunted there.  He logged there.  He employed many locals there and it's somewhat revered ground to us now, as we've heard the stories of our ancestors who spent their days and nights in this beautiful country.

Will they remember all the details?  Nah.  But I hope they remember being together in a beautiful place.  I hope they remember the feeling the warmth and love of family, despite fall's chilly temperatures.  And I hope they remember how generations all came together with one common goal.

 

 There is so much we can't control in parenthood... but we can look back for inspiration and look forward with motivation and expose our babies to the best of who we are.  When we press repeat on the favorite parts of our history, we mindfully sculpt and shape theirs.

 The trophy this weekend was two-fold.  A trophy elk that Grandpa bagged.  And award winning memories with some of our own as we add pages to the greater legacy.

Thanks for letting us ALL be part of it, Dad.  You're passing the torch.  And as their parents we will feed the flames, inspired by the sentimental depth of our own memories you & Mom created for us.