This day would be fine for hunting The mountain air cool and clear The stars still shinning up in the sky As First light began to appear
I saddled up old Buckshot Had all my riggin in place We headed up that mountain valley At a slow and steady pace
I love the mornings in the high country Hooves padding over moistened ground I stop and listen to the evening silence Giving way to daylights sound
The far off howling of a wolf pack Piercing the morning air Made the hair stand up on the back of my neck It gave me a bit of a scare
The wolf sounds getting closer They were ghosts among the trees A wolf pack had worked its way around me Buckshot snorted ill at ease
The big buckskin laid his ears back As a black wolf appeared on our trail Its hackles up with fangs and snarl I felt myself turn pale
It’s unusual for that canine critter To even show itself to a man But this brazen lot was different This wolf pack had a plan
I pulled the rifle from my scabbard Took aim at the big blacks head Squeezed the trigger and felt the kick As the bullet knocked him dead
The pack tore at me from out of the trees I felt sure my time was done They should have scattered and run away They should be frightened by my gun
But it wasn’t me that they had in sight As Buckshot reared and tossed us back The wolves attacked their dead leader’s carcass They tore viciously into the black
Wheeling around I dug heels to flank Spurring old Buckshot on But the old mount needed no coaxing That horse was already gone
A few miles down the valley I took old Buckshot’s head Pulling the reins in I slowed him down Looking back at the woods we had fled
I could hear a symphony of wolf song As the pack once again converged It was clear to me what had just took place A new leader had emerged
That incident as it happened Is forever burned into my mind Another reminder to me that life is tough Don’t expect nature to be kind
That’s the way of the mountains Nature is wild, random and free Though the old wolf met its end that day It could have just as easily been me