Oh? Yeah. Something something.

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Zap!  Okay, that little push cost me more in Doom dollars than I had suspected.  Pains are gone, and never were too great.  But exhaustion remains.  It lives in every muscle and fiber.  I used more than I had, plus surplus, and borrowed energy from the future.  There are, currently, great limits to what I can do.  It is nice to know I can rise from the dead for a bit though.  The hurt, and exhaustion, are actually happy things.  The hurt means I am alive, the exhaustion might lead to an increase in capacity.  I like both.  I actually hope to be able to create these, but without cheating.  That is the actual goal of regaining health!  Some like it soft and easy.  I need it hard and bitter, with a little sweet and comfy during recovery or as a minor side not while I'm pushing myself otherwise.

I dreamed of bow hunting last night, and an elk at that.  I haven't looked into that, I'm not sure if that is even possible?  I scouted for the mountains for where these creatures might be, found a number of them, triangulated their movement patterns during scouting sessions to the degree possible, and when the season and time was right, I went out.  As with any nomad, elk don't have an exact pattern.  Even in a single area of their large range, how they travel a specific course this time and next time might be quite different.  Paranoid, they are skittish.  They allow wind, precipitation in the air and on the ground, and their instincts, to guide them.  If something doesn't seem right, they go another way, and maybe yet another, and might just turn to a different path and direction altogether if their original target location doesn't seem like a good idea, even if they literally don't know exactly why.  Cagey.

But I found this one, alone on this day, heading over a couple of ridges I knew well from scouting.  The wind was light, variable, but favored my hunt.  There were areas that were open ground, which I had to cover with caution.  While the elk was well ahead of me initially, the path ahead would rise up over ridges and allow easy viewing of the open spaces if the bull decided to scan back, and they do.  Knowing the animal's pace, the distance I needed to travel, and the terrain ahead of both of us, only allowed some chance at guessing the right pace.  Closing but cautious, I approached.  Even with the wind favoring my movement, a lull could carry sound forward.  A backdraft might undo me as well, carrying my scent to the beast.  In the mountains you could never be certain what the winds will do.

I did not fail to note the grace of the animal.  The power.  It isn't just meat that I hunted.  It wasn't to conquer the animal, specifically or generally either.  The hunt is a part of the rhythm of life, on which I and the elk were merely playing our roles.  As such, no animosity was present, for my part... or, I should like to think, on his part.  A prayers, should I take this animal, would be said, for his spirit, my soul, and in thanks to God for the... opportunities and realities.

Yes, I took the elk.  I then towed the carcass, with the help of several pieces of equipment, to where I could clean and quarter, then raise the quarters high enough off the ground to be kept safe as I hauled the hanks out one at a time.  Yeah, and from early sessions, I learned to pick a location in which I could easily spot the hanging meat, and surveil the area for... other hungry animals.  What a hunt!

Actually, I am going to look up whether folk stalk bow hunt elk or not.  I simply don't know.  I do suspect that hiking the meat out might be quite a trick too.  Thems a lot of pounds of meat, even quartered and cleaned a guy could be facing 70-150 pounds per quarter.  I supposed you could bone it.  But after a reasonable half day hunt, and after initial cleaning and quartering... I'm not so sure a guy would still have it in him to then bone and haul the meat out.  That's... pushing it.  Ugh.  But... what a pleasant dream.  And with a bow?

Later.