A Tale of Two Brothers

Two grown brothers emerge into a quiet meadow from the dark, dense forest just as the morning is beginning to come alive with the first pink rays of day. They are dressed in camo's, bows in hand, listening for that spine tingling bugle call from the nearby bull elk. They watch and wait, silently communicating as only brothers who have hunted together for many years can do...

Riff's brother, Ron, graced us with his presence this past week. He is an avid hunter and spends every September traipsing through the woods, his arrows slung on his back and binoculars at the ready. Riff has been very excited for his visit. The day that Ron was driving out here from Wyoming, Riff kept calling him - "Where ya at, Buddy? Where ya at??" Then he'd turn to me and give me a running commentary on his brothers progress. They have missed their outdoor adventures together since we moved out here, so really look forward to their time together. The second morning of hunting smiled upon them. They hiked back out to the truck for their meat packs, went back in and packed out a very large elk to fill our freezer for the winter.

Somewhere in that last 20 feet before the truck, Riff stepped on a log. The log rolled, and he sprained his ankle pretty darn good. I'm sure there were a few choice words flying around in the air that day. I do know that he was one unhappy, mad at himself hunter when he got home. I harrassed him into going to the Doctor and getting it checked out, just in case it was broken. It's not, but he will still be working in the office for several weeks instead of out with the field crew. Just where his boss likes him anyway!

The two brothers spent several evenings with the cribbage board. Riff loves to play cribbage, so very happy when someone is around to play with him. He has tried to teach me, but I have proven to be a slow learner when it comes to that game. I do have to say, though, I did "skunk" him ONE time. He'll never be able to forget that one!

There is nothing like ending a long day of hunting, cribbage and sprained ankles with a fresh, homemade peach pie. The pie was cooling on the counter when they came home from hunting. I had pork roast and potatoes in the oven and summer squash cooking on the stove. The house smelled heavenly. The two "boys" wanted to know if they could have pie first. I do have to feel sorry for their poor mother...