Every year, I think hunting for antelope just can’t get any better, and every year it does. The days are warm, the nights are cool, the aspens are golden and so are the memories. Let me explain.
In my grandfather’s day in southwestern Wyoming, antelope were few and far between. In his journals for the years 1908 through 1915, he carefully notes down every time he sees an antelope. There are no more than a…
