Some ramblings in Wyoming...
One day, while at the Shoshoni Shooting Range off Muskrat Road, I found myself in conversation with a retired deputy sheriff. He looked like a character straight out of Yellowstone: a gray handlebar mustache, a weathered cowboy hat, and a brown leather gun belt with a holster carrying a 1911 autoloader chambered in .45 ACP.
I have noticed that many retired law enforcement officers in the Rockies and the High Country seem to favor the 1911 platform in .45 ACP. I suspect that what they have seen and experienced over the course of their careers has influenced that preference. Experience, especially hard-earned experience, has a way of shaping practical decisions.
I have always made it a point to listen to locals when discussing life in a particular place, especially in a state as unforgiving and complex as Wyoming. This former deputy shared a story with me that he referred to simply as the “Bone Fence.”
Traveling along Route 16 from Worland to Buffalo, one passes through the southern end of the Bighorn Mountains. The road winds through Tensleep Canyon, carved by Tensleep Creek as it flows down from West Tensleep Lake high in the mountains. It is one of the most beautiful areas in the state. I have always loved traveling through this region while hunting small game and varmints, drawn by both the scenery and the sense of isolation.
While we were shooting, the deputy recounted how he encountered the Bone Fence while hunting deer and elk near the boundary of the Bighorn National Forest. As he moved through the high country, he came across a length of barbed wire fence bordering a rocky outcropping. What immediately caught his attention was a pile of bones gathered there.
If you spend enough time in the wilds of Wyoming, you will find bones. That is simply a fact of life. Ruminants fall to predators, succumb to harsh winters, or are lost to poorly placed shots. The winter of 2021–2022 was so severe that portions of Wyoming even shut down hunting seasons due to extensive winter kill. Bones, by themselves, are not unusual.
What made this site different was the scale. The pile of bones was so large that it nearly reached the top strand of the barbed wire fence. The deputy explained that a generational family of mountain lions had learned that this location provided easy kills. Deer and elk attempting to cross the fence would sometimes become tangled or slowed, leaving them vulnerable. In those moments, they became effortless prey for one of the many mountain lions that still roam the Cowboy State.
The Bone Fence stands as a stark reminder that Wyoming remains a truly wild place. Beauty and danger coexist here, often separated by only a strand of barbed wire. Those who live, hunt, or travel in this land must remain aware, respectful, and prepared.