Elk Hunting and Potsherds

It’s a little after noon, I’m sitting in the bottom of Hovenweep canyon with my rifle, waiting for dusk. Sunset is supposed to be at 4:51 pm. So I’ve got some time.

I’m set up in a scraggly stand of junipers, w the breeze blowing into my face.  I’ve got a good view of a sage flat near where I saw them last year. It’s about 300 yards across the flat, so I’m hoping that if they come, they will be near the middle of the flat. It is probably a good thing you talked me out of bringing the 45-70. The country gets big fast here.

The truck is about 1.2 miles away, up the cliff at cutthroat castle trail head. It was a pretty easy hike, but I imagine it will be more difficult in the dark.

I passed a group of guys with a camp set up on the canyon rim on the way in. I’m hoping that they are not hunters, but odds are that they are. I didn’t see blaze orange around their camp, guessing they may be taking a midday break. One of them was watching me w binos as I hiked in. I waved but he didn’t wave back. I’m up the canyon about 0.5 miles from them, out of their line of sight.

Canyon walls have ruins in a lot of the overhangs. This place probably jumped, back in the day.

It’s really quiet, just the sound of the breeze in the junipers. There’s a cottonwood about 150-200 yards upstream. Guessing there’s water there at least sometimes. Don’t want to cause a stir by hiking over to see. Probably would not move to a different spot regardless, this one feels kind of homey.

It is pretty dry here, not like last year when there was water everywhere. That cottonwood still has dry leaves on it, makes a rippling sort of rattling sound when breeze hits it.

Distant ravens cawing when the wind is right. They are not flying over, though. Warm enough yet, crackling noise flying grasshoppers make is startling. It’s that quiet. Feels like canyon is thinking something, and is trying to find the right words. “oh…hey…..you know what…”, it’ll blurt.

Or not.

Ground around me is littered w potsherds. Plain, scalloped, black and white painted, loads of them. Wonder what used to be here, and who used to be here.  Wonder if the fragments washed down from the ruins, or if they were carried here by people. Another raven croaking downstream, maybe he knows. Hard to say if he’s being serious though.

Having a pretty good time :)

It’s a couple hours later, although I would not have guessed that without a clock. Quiet has soaked into my head, monkey voices have mostly gone. Time passed as easily as if somebody  had pushed in the clutch. Probably the way time passes for a spider. Saw a small tarantula roaming around on the way in, wonder how he is doing.

Little groups of juncos are passing by every five minutes or so, making whirring wing noises. Brief bursts of wing flutter sound. They chirp and sound like striking flint on metal. White crowns come along with them but don’t make as much noise.  White crowns look hulking next to the juncoes.

Colder now the sun has moved. No more grasshopper noises. I had to put on my coat. Would probably fall asleep, but the ground is boney, what with the potsherds and all.

I saw elk tracks in one of the washes I crossed on the hike in. If they come from that direction or take a route like that, I likely won’t see them. Like as not I’d hear them I guess.

Strange to think this is out here all the time. Strange that people are self centered enough to think that is strange :)

More time has gone by. Just ate some of the ham, figured I’d get my fidgeting out of the way before prime time comes. Stunned at the ham odor when I opened the bag. Very strong, as if yelling “ham!”. Is that what we smell like to elk I wonder. “People!” Wind’s still good, hope it holds this direction if I’m going to be shouting odors like that.

Hear stones rattling a couple hundred yards down canyon, out of sight. Somebody is fidgeting around, guessing it’s trickster maybe. Not enough noise for much else.

Jetplane just flew directly overhead, way high. Contrail sparkling straight behind it like the jet was the tip of a spear, thrusting through the sky. Wonder where they are going, if the people are thinking about the airline seats or are asking for tiny cups of water from the waitresses. Suspect they don’t know I’m here. What’s it like to be a bat, or an airline passenger for that matter. Maybe it’s empty, an aluminum ghost galleon, or an empty thermos.

No more stones rattling up canyon, not for a while now. Wind’s shifted,  blowing up canyon, but not as much as earlier. Fingers crossed.

It’s later, and the breeze shifted so that I’m up wind of the canyon. Nice. Sun will probably drop behind canyon lip innext half hour or so.

Crickets behind me are already in cool shade since sun moved, started sloooow chirping. Crickety optimists, can’t imagine they are warm enough to move around very much right now. Pays to advertise. Maybe other crickets remember where the chirping crickets are, that’s why they chirp even in the cold. “oh, jiminy? Yeah he’s good bug people, been here like *forever*”.

Odd to look at the colors here. They are segregated, sage gray green on the canyon floor, darker juniper green on the bajada, then whiter/lighter stone above that. The canyon floor’s gray green color isn’t just the sage - the rocks tend to gray green as well. Gray green star bursts of lichen on the gray rocks, too, with the occasional smartering of yellowish green lichen. Even a few patches of dried moss.

All the juncoes just split in a twitter and flurry. Now only slow crickets.

(I didn’t see an elk on this trip, but had a grand time)