The creak of leather and horseshoes on rock. The squelch of mud as you cross a boggy spring. A calf bawls for its mom and ten cows reply. The panting of dogs gets louder then recedes as they weave behind the herd in an intricate pattern. A barely perceptible swiiiiish as tall grass grazes your stirrups. The bawling of cows in the lead is distorted, not an echo, but sound deflected against aspen trunks and sifted through fir needles. A forced grunt as your horse unexpectedly staggers through downed logs. Hooves thud against logs and sticks crack with the weight. Then, a bird? No. A chill begins at your hairline on your neck and travels shiveringly down your spine. A distant bugle. Beginning bass notes rise and spin, twirling among the leaves and needles and fall to the soft ground with grunts. A bull elk tries to woo a harem, but my cows are not impressed. We ride on but the memory lingers.Find me here!