Roy Enter is one of the most remarkable people I have ever known. We have been close friends and outdoor partners for decades, after we met on a mountain. This excerpt is from his story, in WILD WINDS and Other Tales of Growing Up in the Outdoor West:

It was August, 1974. I had a bighorn sheep license. We were looking for the big rams we knew lived up in that country.

Canadian “Cousin” Norm Hardy and I were hunkered down in a hollow in some rocks at the top of a ridge in the Tarryall Mountains somewhere around the middle of Colorado. We were soaking up the sun, out of the wind, and eating lunch. Norm was facing me. I had taken my hat off and was resting my head back against a boulder. The wind was blowing the tips of my hair around.

Several things happened at once: I felt a chill zip down my spine; Norm’s eyes got big as saucers; and I saw the hawk’s wing tips on both sides of my face as it frantically changed its mind about digging its talons into, and eating, my scalp.

It was an omen. The evening of that day, I met Roy Enter.