Page 8 of Shared By the Mountain Men Triplets

Cade is already looking at the same gap when I ask, “Does that cut connectto anything?”

He glances toward the ridge. “Old access route above us. Not maintained. Most people wouldn’t find it unless they knew where to come off the pass.”

I capture images of the camera position, the junction, and the cut between the rocks, then record the coordinates and angles in my notebook, where they add to a growing pattern.

Maybe there are natural reasons why animals have stopped using these areas, or maybe something is pushing movement away from the obvious routes.

The question is why.

We break for lunch in a sheltered patch of sun below the junction, and like the previous days, the brothers eat like men accustomed to taking fuel where they can get it. No fuss, no time wasted.

Right after I finish the last bite of my sandwich, Boone hands me a packet of dried mango. “I brought too much.”

I don’t believe him, but I take it anyway. “Thank you.”

He studies me. “You sound like it pains you to accept it.”

“I don’t like taking other people’s supplies.”

“You’re not. I offered.” The way he smiles at me nearly makes me forget what we’re talking about.

“You might need it later.”

“I have more.”

From several feet away, Cade tosses another packet into Boone’s lap with perfect accuracy.

Boone holds it up. “See?”

Rhett opens a protein bar with his teeth and doesn’t say anything, but I swear the corners of his serious mouth twitch.

As I chew a piece of the mango, there’s a distant crack of something moving through the brush.

Cade pauses mid-bite, and Boone’s smile fades a fraction. All three men go still as we listen. Ready, not frozen.

A few seconds later, a black bear ambles out between the trees, maybe fifty yards downslope. Its head is low, the dark fur lit by the sun. It’s medium-sized, maybe a younger adult, and it’s not moving toward us.

Without speaking, the four of us watch it move across the slope. My hand shifts toward the bear spray, but only out of habit.

The bear lifts its head, pauses long enough for me to hear my pulse in my ears, then continues on its way until it’s out of sight.

Boone exhales quietly. “That’s one way to interrupt lunch.”

“He wasn’t interested in us,” I say.

“Can’t imagine why not. We’re delightful.”

It was good to see the bear. Wildlife isn’t entirely gone from the area, but it’s following different patterns, for reasons I have yet to discover.

After lunch,we climb.

From below, the ridgeline looks close, but it isn’t. The approach is steep, and by the time we arrive at the first overlook, the back of my shirt is damp with sweat, and my thighs are complaining loudly.

The view, however, is worth it.

The mountains roll out in hues of blue and green, their peaks still streaked with white. After enjoying the view for a minute, I pull out my binoculars and get to work.

It doesn’t take long to spot the first raptor nest, which is exactly where the survey said it would be. It’s in a prime location, tucked in a rocky outcrop with a commanding view over the slope below. It’s protected from most ground predators and has good visibility and a good hunting range.