My dad shot his first Rosey in 58 mine came in 61 and another one shortly after. After my service we migrated to the dry side of Oregon and I became familiar with the mountains of NE Oregon, where I have hunted ever sense. My heart is in the mountains, looking across vast expanses of real estate. The deep dark, wet side full of wind-throw, sal-al berries, alder, more alder I do not miss. Good luck for those of you hunting there,
