The Hundredth Meridianrnby Chilton Williamson, Jr.rnHunters and GatherersrnThe carcass lay across a slab of rock atrnabout tlie leel of mv knees. I estimatedrnits undressed weight to liave been aroundrn700 pounds: substantial for a two-yearoldrnelk. I had managed to position it sornthat when I drew the guts out they fellrnclear of the slab onto the rocks below.rnThe rocks, already unstable, were nowrnslippery with blood, gastric juices, andrnthe bile-colored contents of the maw.rnMoving carefully to avoid breaking anrnankle, I sawed through the pelvic bone tornspread the hindquarters, then drew backrnthe near fore and hind legs and tiedrnthem off to a couple of uphill rocks. Inrnthis warm weather I wished to ventilaternthe carcass while using the rib cage andrnhide for shade. The spike had been inrnfine condition, with a shiny thick coatrnthat was good to touch and half an inchrnof fat on the brisket. When I had himrnfixed the wa’ I wanted him I picked uprnthe organs and the stomach contents andrnthrew thenr farther downhill to draw thernflies. Then I wiped the blade of my knifernand saw on mv pants leg, and scabbardedrnthem. iM rifle, the magazine stripped ofrnshells, la against a log on a patch of grassrn15 feet from the edge of the rock slide. Irnshouldered it, and looked back at the elk.rnHe had his eyes open still, but I didn’trncare about him as an animal anymore.rnHe was just a huge piece of dead meatrnneeding to be cut up, loaded, hauled offrnthe mountain, and back to town forrnbutchering.rnIt was warm in town all the next day,rnand I thought of the meat. The morningrnafter I rose at five, brought the horsesrnfrom the ranch, and picked up LarryrnReed, who had offered to help withrnthe carcass in exchange for a share of it.rnA cover of gray cloud had moved inrnovernight, and heavier clouds edged inrnpaler gray and white like ocean wavesrnwere breaking over the mountains to thernnorth. It started to rain, and almost atrnonce the clay road commenced to bernslick, “Do vou have chains?” Larry asked.rn”Yes. But I think that it will clear now.rnThere’s no wind driving those cloudsrnand the sky is clear everywhere exceptrnabo’c the mountains.” As we went intornthe switchbacks going down tornFontenelle crossing I was aware of therntrailer fishtailing slightly, and downshiftedrnto compound low. “I hope we don’trnhave to take this thing off the hillrnin a blizzard.” “Well.” Larry shrugged.rn”If we do, wc do.” A strong wind blewrnthrough Fontenelle gap, but the skyrnabove Indian Ridge was lightening andrnthe clouds eaporated into blue as theyrncame sailing off the mountains. We saddledrnquickly. I rolled the panniers andrntied them behind the saddle and put thernsandwiches and two polv bottles into thernsaddle bags. Finally I gave Larry thernmare and stepped up to the gelding who,rnspooky from wind and the weatherrnchange, sidestepped me on my first attemptrnto mount him.rnThe farther in we rode above WestrnBear Trap Creek and the higher wernclimbed the more the sk cleared, until itrnfelt almost like a day in summer when wernreached the base of Indian Ridge atrna quarter before noon. We turned asidernfrom the talus fall and rode on uphillrnamong young pines before dismountingrnand leading the rest of the way. The carcassrnafter two davs was undisturbed, butrnan odor of decay lingered abo’e the frontrnquarter, which was still warm. I had neglectedrnto remove all of the trachea, andrnonce we had that out the meat smelledrnwholly fresh and clean. In spite of thernwarm weather, its coldness stiffened ourrnfingers as we skinned out the haunches,rnshoulders, and barrel, and cut flesh inrngreat slabs and rounds from the whiternbones. Larrv’s Green River knife, forrnwhich he said he had paid eight dollars,rncut much better than m- own knife;rnwhen I admired it, he offered to give mernhis other one when we got back to town.rnWe had the animal boned by tworno’clock, and the marc loaded in 15 minutes.rnThe carcass resembled the oldrnman’s great fish after the sharks had beenrnafter it, but we had beat the bears to thernmeat and it was safely secured now in thernpanniers. “Lunch?” I inquired. We werernboth covered in blood, hair, and tissuernalmost to the shoulders. “Why don’t werngo down as far as the creek,” Larry suggested,rn”and wash up?”rnTwo days later a cold front moved inrnbringing snow and high winds. Whenrnthe weather cleared Mary Thomanrnphoned, wanting me to help gather thernlast of Dick and Susie Thoman’s cows forrntrucking to their winter pasturage northrnof La Barge. I was at the ranch a littlernpast eight the next morning and werncaught the horses we needed out of therncorral and saddled them in the shadowyrnbarn and loaded them into the trailerrnhitched to the flatbed truck. Dick andrnSusie had gone ahead with most ofrnthe family in the semi, and we had withrnus the elder daughter Dixie, MickeyrnThoman, and a schoolteacher comernfrom Green River with her saddle andrnblanket. Mary had packed a good lunchrnand we were in almost a holiday mood asrnwe started up the ranch road to the highway,rnlooking to make the most of thernclosest thing ranchers know to a holiday.rnWe drove south to the Farson Cutoff andrnthe highway bridge across the Green Riverrnwhere we split up, Mickey and Linda,rnthe teacher, riding downstream on thernwest side of the river and Mar-, Dixie,rnand I crossing the bridge on horseback tornpick up some cows that Mary had spottedrnthe day before from her airplane.rnThe day was windless and mild, the sunrnpresent but remote as if sealed behind arnpane of smoked glass. We kicked the cattlernout of the bottom and set them movingrnsouth on the bluff above the river inrnthe direction of Big Island, unfasteningrnlayers of clothing as we rode. We had notrnridden far before Dick Thoman’s bluerntruck appeared out of a prairie swale, laboringrndoggediv across the sagebrush inrnour direction. Mary galloped away tornspeak with him, and on her return explainedrnthat Dick now proposed to truckrnthe cows rather than drive them to BigrnIsland. We turned the herd, pushed itrnback over the bluff, and followed it downrnFEBRUARY 1996/49rnrnrn