Checking His Backtrail The early morning air is crisp and clean, with the first rays of sun promising to make it one of those warm October, clatter brush days. A seasoned Ol' Muley Buck, listening to a distant telltale crunch, has moved up the bottom of a draw and into the light. He pauses, Checking His Backtrail and then silently slips over the edge, down the other side, and forever fades away into the canyon below. |
