Medium rare, please.
A lot of hunters come into Bozeman for elk. They pay $10,000 for some outfitter to take them on a first class hunt.
After the animal has been killed they have it dressed and frozen, only to discover they have to pay extra for the overage on a very heavy cooler.
So after forking out thousands for the thrill of the kill, they're too cheap to pay $150 to take the meat home.
As a result, a lot of perfectly good elk meat gets tossed in the garbage.
Unless you have a friend at the airport.
So fire up the grill, we're having elk steaks tonight. I can hardly wait.
One of my friends here in Bozeman flew two tours as fighter pilot in Vietnam. Then he lived all over the world as part of his job selling airplane parts to the airlines.
After about four or five years in one city he would get bored with wherever he was living and move someplace else.
Until he got to Bozeman.
Now he spends his days winding down his business and ramping up his life as a cowboy.
He's up at 3:00 in the morning, loading up his horse and heading out while it's still dark to move cattle from the summer to the winter pasture, bringing in the heifers for their first calving, dislocating his fingers and shoulders, feeling aches and pains he never knew were possible, and loving every minute.
It might seem like he's heading down a brand new road. But fighter jocks have always been considered cowboys.
He's just getting back to his roots.An Amish rocker by the stone fireplace
Mrs. Linklater hasn't always been a big fan of countrymusic. She doesn't hate it, but it's not her first choice. But nothing goes better with life in Bozeman.
There's a classic country station here in town. This morning when she woke up the radio was tuned to Randy Travis. Could there be a more perfect soundtrack to the nicker of horses in the paddock, a fresh fire in the fireplace, the smell of bacon on the stove, and the great feeling of five more minutes under a Hudson Bay blanket.
I don't think so.