Story in the Snow

Guided a Canuck
that cold Third Rifle season. 
Fresh elk tracks in the snow
gave us both good hunting reason.

We spy a nice wide bull;
the hunter takes his shot. 
We hear him hit the ground;
a clean kill I had thought. 

Much to our surprise,
we find a snow packed imprint,    
and a small blood trail
that leaves us with a hint.   

We set off on a journey
to find the wounded bull. 
A sweaty trek through snow
make me thankful for my wool.

A half a mile later,
we find another bed.
All the fresh white snow
makes it easy to spot red.

If you've ever tracked an elk,
you know they can cover ground.
Worriers of the mountain in snow,
don't make much loud sound.

Still on the snowy trail,
I see a bright red clot.
What's this? Coyote tracks!
Now we're getting hot!

With sunset coming soon,
the odds won't be in our favor.
We'll return in the morning;
a feeling I do not savor.

I hope he gets a moment
to close his eyes in sleep. 
The bull is magnificent;
his suffering makes me weak.

Sunrise comes quick;
we pick up right where we left off.    
The next snowy bunk
is as big as a water trough. 

It is yesterday's bed,
but the blood trail now is strong.    
I hope we find the bull
before coyotes sing their song. 

We follow his stumbling tracks
into an island of dark timber.    
My hunter is worn out now
and becoming quite a hinder. 

I'm happy to report,
we found the king in a pine castle.
He was curled up and peaceful,
like he died without much hassle.

I'd rather every hunter
make a clean shot don't you know.
Still, it was very special to watch,
this story in the snow.