Telthehunter
New member
This hunt really starts around 2020 when my at the time Girlfriend, Skyla, agreed that on a break from college she would join us in the Colorado duck blind. With a slow evening hunt progessing a single Mallard decoyed in and we ushered Skyla to the front and she raised her borrowed Benelli 20ga. A single shot and you could see the excitment rise in her just as we all felt with our own first birds.
Fast foward to 2022 and on the side of a mountian in New Mexico we got engaged. Her mind raced about colors, dresses, food, and all those fun things that come with planning a wedding. My mind however narrowed in on one thing, what would we be hunting and where for the Honeymoon. Alot of ideas got tossed around those coming days. The constant theme was adding to our 42 waterfowl species chase. I was sitting at 20 and Skyla was at a respectable 7 for her few hunts she had got to take between Ag classes and livestock judging comps at Oklahoma Panhandle State. I figured the best of both worlds would be sunshine covered beaches and braskish back water holes of Mazatlan Mexico chasing Cinnamon Teal. I had been following Ramsey Russell with Getducks.com for a good couple years and he had a couple great podcasts about the "Honeymoon Hunt" and how it was not only a relaxing time to get away from work, but a hunt like no other. We had a trip planned to DSC that year and Ramsey had his normal booth so that made for a great time to iron out any details for the trip that would happen March of 2024. Skyla wasn't able to take time off for Dallas so I went it alone and booked the dates, two hunters, 4 days behind the guns. There was a bit of protest from Ramsey as he said "no women wants to actually hunt when they get down there" little did he know my Skyla was bit by the waterfowl bug just as much as I am.
We had a great wedding in my little hometown of Dolores Colorado in August of 2023 and instead of jet setting the next day Skyla had her first day of school as the Ag/FFA Advisor and I cleaned up the reminantes of the party the night before with my Groomsmen. Those months between were filled with learning how to be married, alot of work behind the gun for Skyla, and day dreaming of those little red fighter jets decending from the spanish sky.
As March came upon us we fell into a busy time of year with prep for a spring real estate market and our annual SCI banquet for the Four Corners Board I am VP of. Unfortunatly Our banquet fell on the only available dates for the hunt and after the hall was setup and the auction prepped we jumped on a plane and took off from Durango to Phoenix and then Phoenix to Mazatlan. We left a snow storm and 30 degree weather trading it for sunshine and warm 70s. We were met with a bus and alot of timeshare owners that couldn't imagine leaving the resort, needless to say we didn't fit in to well but not much care was given to that, we had birds to kill.
DAY 1
Off the bus and to the room to drop off bags and then a prehunt meeting with WildMazatlan our outfitter. The next morning we had a 4am wake up call with coffee and donuts. We loaded into a 90s suburban with a father and son from Michigan and a giant of a man named Hector who would be our guide for the next couple days. We drove from the consistantly lit City into small towns and ultimately a dark mountian landscape spotted with small farm shacks. We drove for about an hour and half and as the sun finally peaked up we pulled up next to an estuary and made our way to a small pond about a 1/4 acre. A group of Bluewings jumped off with a single Drake Cinnamon mixed in. Our group split and Skyla and I went to a raised blind about 10 yards above the water, the Michigan boys set up about 40 yards away and the hunt was on. It didn't take long for a whistle of Bluewings to buzz by. The Michigan boys popped two, and about 30 seconds later we had two swing by and I rose the sleak Benelli Supersport and just like that our First Mexican kill. Couple minutes later and the staple of Mexican waterfowl and the most hated bird for many north of the boarder came into the decoys, Skyla's turn and she hammered that Shoveler. We would tick off bird after bird for a good 3 hours, each bird that fell was a call for the young bird boys to hike up their shorts and go wading into the marsh after them. My first spoony fell 4-5 yards from us and I bounced out of my chair and walked with the bird boy over to get it. I could see my highschool spanish teacher shaking her head as I tried to chat about the experince with him in very broken spanish, we finally settled on our main words being "plato" and a rough "shoot" when the birds decoyed in. We finished up for the day and picked up shells as Hector layed out the 50 ducks the four of us shot and most importantly start lunch. Lunch was simple but man is that something I day dream about to this day, 3 simple beef and cheese tacos and serrano peppers cooked on a little fire next to the marsh, when they say simple is better they are talking about this post hunt meal. Of course in true mexican fashion no meal would be complete without a Cerveza, anyone thats been to Sinaloa knows the only acceptable beer is Pacifico as it is the home of the light lager.
We made our way back to the resort and chatted with our new friends about the opening hunt. Once we got back we settled into the resort and had a drink on the beach and learned our surroundings. We then made a game plan for dinner. They say when in Rome do as the Romans do, for Skyla that meant a dedicated test to find the best Taco in Mazatlan.
Day 2
Another early morning in the lobby with coffee and pastries but this time there was about 6 other hunters there waiting with us along with the Michigan boys. The guides were chatting and murmuring about a game plan for the whole group. Finally the lot of us were wrangled and we all hopped in our respective vehicals. Hector turned back grinning and said today was a special day, we were going to the bluebill pond. Unsure of what he meant we all agreed that it sounded like a good time. Little did we know this was the signature hunt of the whole trip. We fell into a line of trucks and bumped throught the Mexican farm land, we weaved through chili and agave farms. We pulled up at about 10 after sunrise and met 4 more trucks on the side of a couple 100 acre red chili field. 11 of us were marched to a levy and placed in a long line with chairs all the way down. We were all told to watch the far end of the pond which was more like a small reservoir and when we had birds over head to shoot. No decoys, no calls just a few local boys with palm leaves marching to the far end of the pond. A bit confused we all agreed and began loading as a few birds began to fly over. The levy was positioned between the pond and an estuary that bleed out into the Pacific. Behind us pelicans, curlew, and an assortment of shore birds relax in the warm Mexican weather. We all loaded guns and we could feel the eyes of everyone linger on the fact that Skyla was the only girl there and that the rest of the hunting party had retired around the years we were born.
The first flock of 50 of so Scaup headed towards us and the guides began to point out the to the chatting guys. Guns were raised and a volley of shots began as bird after bird fell. It became a constant of shoot, load, shoot, load as each guides and bird boys started to stack a mix of scaup, ruddy ducks, and occasional teal behind their respective hunters. At some points we had a chance to sit back and watch the birds tranfer back to the end of the pond before the boys with palm leaves waived them back to us. What would become one of the biggest highlights of the hunt was when a single lesser began his decent towards us. 11 guns raised but I made the point to loady push Skyla to shoot. Like dominoes everyone lowered their guns one after another and heads turned to make Skyla the center of attention. Without her noticing the audince of about 20 guides and hunters she raised the 12ga and folded that bird like fresh laundry. A cheer from everyone rang out and a one fellow hunter gave a simple "that a girl" a very proud moment for a young husband. For about 2 hours we each went through 100 shells and watch the stacks of birds behind us quickly grow into mountains. Some flocks that made their way over us were in the 100s. Not all the birds made it back to us tho, after our second big volley we noticed a few ducks bobbing up and down in the water. I figured they needed finishing off but then we saw small heads gripping onto them. Turtles, little box turtles had heard the dinner bells ring and had a grand feast thanks to us.
One big thing to note about Mazatlan is that tho the bird limits look extermely liberal, more birds are harvested opening weekend of the California Waterfowl season then all year long in Sinaloa.
After the hunt we made our way back to the resort and decided we needed to find Margaritas for dinner so we found a new taco joint just acrossed the road in a mall. Skyla of course continued her test and we settled in for another early morning.
Day 3
Its always amazed me whether it's a mountain elk camp or comfy hotel rooms, getting up early to hunt is never a problem. Day 3 was back to our small group of 4 and a bitter further of a drive. This time we had to make a stop along the way at a tollboth as we were heading to a new area and the Mexican goverment needed their cut. We drove for about 2 hours and got to a small stagnant cattle pond with thick brush around it. We were told to sit still and be quite as the birds we be able to see us and were more weary of this spot. This felt very much like our style hunts even complete with a few decoys. I felt right at home.
We had began to feel anxious as we had been killing birds but the main target bird, the Cinnamon, had still eluded us to this point. Hector said we had a chance here but not to pass up any birds waiting for one.
We loaded up and began to wait, and wait we did. This hunt very much felt like home. A couple spoonies and blue wings came through but not the volume we had been used to. Hector was feeling it more then us and it wasn't long and he was on the phone finding us another spot. We packed up and drove a few miles to a bit more habited area chalked full of fruit farms. We pulled into a field full of softball sized watermelons and a single tree, unsure what exaclty was going on we all shared glances of confussion until Hector motioned for us to follow him to the tree. About 10 yards off and the familiar sound began to echo past us, birds on the water. A few steps and we understood the tree was the top of an indent in the earth full of water and 100s of blue wings. They jumped up and took off and we got setup and we watched them duck into a similar divot about 200 yards away. It wouldn't take long and the flight was on 100s of Blues buzzed us and did the normal teal swing into the pond we let them have it. We were tuned up enough that pick up after the first volley needed all hands on deck and I found my self combing over watermelons looking for a downed bird. Very unqiue to be honest, one of those you would never know until you did it moments. The crip knew I was on him and had found a cracked melon to hide in. It was an odd one as it was the first bird I had ever recovered covered in something red that wasn't blood.
This hunt would become a mass amount of fun and fire power as flocks of teal played leap frog acrossed the ag land and wa would wait and then blast away every 10 minutes or so, but still no Cinnamon.
On the ride back our Michigan friends let us know that they would be leaving us after this hunt as their days were up. Handshakes and hugs for our new Midwest friends ended their hunt and they were back to the colds of the US. I decided we needed some romance for the evening so we had a long walk on the beach at sunset and I can't say it was a poor sight.
We would later be almost stranded on that island by the used car salesmen of Mexicos tourism industry that definitely had to many beers on the way out. But hey we made it back so all good.
Day 4
It was odd to be up and at it with only Hector and bird boys in the lobby of a 30 story hotel at 4 am. The resort aspect of the whole trip was unqiue, you had the wealthies of the world strolling around in swim trucks and bikinis and then us in muddy bloody camo and packs all mixed together, we did get more eyes then we gave thats for sure.
We hopped in the truck and Skyla sprawled out in the new found space of the empty seats and quickly passed out. Hector turned back to me and with satisfied excitment said "Cinnamon Mr Tel, Cinnamon today" We roled down the dark roads of Mazatlan and it was odd to think we felt safe and excited only miles from true Narco land. Skyla and I still remark about how we felt safer there then the eroding City of Denver she grew up in. We hit the banks of the Pacific at sunrise and watched a part of the world we rarely see come alive. We drove down the sandy beach for a while and came up to a new spot only a few yards from the ocean. We unloaded and Hector tossed us each old green irrigation boots which were more of a one sizes has to fit style. Wouldn't be long and those boots would come in handy as we waded through just above ankle high water to a raised pallet blind with some willows stuck around it. Hector pointed out flyways and retreated 100ish yards away into the brush. It was great to have a bit of distance for Skyla and I to feel like we were soloing it. First flock of about 5 green wings came in and we nocked down a few, minutes later some shovelers and blue wings made their apperance and Skyla nocked down a mature drake blue wing. This continued for about 30 minutes before another flock of blue wings and one odd ball buzzed us on the right, Skyla was watching a distant group so I raised my gun and focused in the goof knowing he was something different. A blast from the gun and Hector began to cheer! "Cinnamon, Cinnamon" he yelled as he went charging into the water. Scouping it up into his hands and laying every feather in its place as he presented it to me knowing it was the trophy of a lifetime. The stunning bird shined in the warming sun. A feeling of gratitude and accomplishment came over and birds passed as I was carefully examining each feather on this bucketlist bird. Now that I had checked him off my list it was time to focus on Skyla getting one. We settled in and started to exaime each flock looking for another, finally after about 20 minutes another group of blues swung through with an odd man out. I pointed out the target and Skyla lifted her gun as quick as she could to catch up with the fleeding flock. She shot once and the cinnamon glided down from a clipped wing, All of us at one time howled for her to dust him again, she swatted him and Hector did another jaunt into the marsh and grabbed the beat up bird. None the less we had accomplished our goal. We were fortunate enough to sneak out one more and a few other species on the final hunt of the trip. Trifecta Complete
I always say God has a sense of humor, the last minute Cinnamons prove that further to me. This was truly a remarkable trip. To be fortunate enough to take my wife on a trip like this and hunt internationally at our age is something I truly would have never thought I would never be able to do. Leaving my little corner of Colorado to chase fowl with my best friend only fed the fire to explore every corner of the globe.
The following days we caught up on some sleep, played on the beach for hours, got a bit more then a little sunburn, and most importantly ate the best seafood Mexico has to offer. We made it home a few day later to a snowy Colorado, reminiscing on the Huntingmoon of a lifetime.
Fast foward to 2022 and on the side of a mountian in New Mexico we got engaged. Her mind raced about colors, dresses, food, and all those fun things that come with planning a wedding. My mind however narrowed in on one thing, what would we be hunting and where for the Honeymoon. Alot of ideas got tossed around those coming days. The constant theme was adding to our 42 waterfowl species chase. I was sitting at 20 and Skyla was at a respectable 7 for her few hunts she had got to take between Ag classes and livestock judging comps at Oklahoma Panhandle State. I figured the best of both worlds would be sunshine covered beaches and braskish back water holes of Mazatlan Mexico chasing Cinnamon Teal. I had been following Ramsey Russell with Getducks.com for a good couple years and he had a couple great podcasts about the "Honeymoon Hunt" and how it was not only a relaxing time to get away from work, but a hunt like no other. We had a trip planned to DSC that year and Ramsey had his normal booth so that made for a great time to iron out any details for the trip that would happen March of 2024. Skyla wasn't able to take time off for Dallas so I went it alone and booked the dates, two hunters, 4 days behind the guns. There was a bit of protest from Ramsey as he said "no women wants to actually hunt when they get down there" little did he know my Skyla was bit by the waterfowl bug just as much as I am.
We had a great wedding in my little hometown of Dolores Colorado in August of 2023 and instead of jet setting the next day Skyla had her first day of school as the Ag/FFA Advisor and I cleaned up the reminantes of the party the night before with my Groomsmen. Those months between were filled with learning how to be married, alot of work behind the gun for Skyla, and day dreaming of those little red fighter jets decending from the spanish sky.
As March came upon us we fell into a busy time of year with prep for a spring real estate market and our annual SCI banquet for the Four Corners Board I am VP of. Unfortunatly Our banquet fell on the only available dates for the hunt and after the hall was setup and the auction prepped we jumped on a plane and took off from Durango to Phoenix and then Phoenix to Mazatlan. We left a snow storm and 30 degree weather trading it for sunshine and warm 70s. We were met with a bus and alot of timeshare owners that couldn't imagine leaving the resort, needless to say we didn't fit in to well but not much care was given to that, we had birds to kill.
DAY 1
Off the bus and to the room to drop off bags and then a prehunt meeting with WildMazatlan our outfitter. The next morning we had a 4am wake up call with coffee and donuts. We loaded into a 90s suburban with a father and son from Michigan and a giant of a man named Hector who would be our guide for the next couple days. We drove from the consistantly lit City into small towns and ultimately a dark mountian landscape spotted with small farm shacks. We drove for about an hour and half and as the sun finally peaked up we pulled up next to an estuary and made our way to a small pond about a 1/4 acre. A group of Bluewings jumped off with a single Drake Cinnamon mixed in. Our group split and Skyla and I went to a raised blind about 10 yards above the water, the Michigan boys set up about 40 yards away and the hunt was on. It didn't take long for a whistle of Bluewings to buzz by. The Michigan boys popped two, and about 30 seconds later we had two swing by and I rose the sleak Benelli Supersport and just like that our First Mexican kill. Couple minutes later and the staple of Mexican waterfowl and the most hated bird for many north of the boarder came into the decoys, Skyla's turn and she hammered that Shoveler. We would tick off bird after bird for a good 3 hours, each bird that fell was a call for the young bird boys to hike up their shorts and go wading into the marsh after them. My first spoony fell 4-5 yards from us and I bounced out of my chair and walked with the bird boy over to get it. I could see my highschool spanish teacher shaking her head as I tried to chat about the experince with him in very broken spanish, we finally settled on our main words being "plato" and a rough "shoot" when the birds decoyed in. We finished up for the day and picked up shells as Hector layed out the 50 ducks the four of us shot and most importantly start lunch. Lunch was simple but man is that something I day dream about to this day, 3 simple beef and cheese tacos and serrano peppers cooked on a little fire next to the marsh, when they say simple is better they are talking about this post hunt meal. Of course in true mexican fashion no meal would be complete without a Cerveza, anyone thats been to Sinaloa knows the only acceptable beer is Pacifico as it is the home of the light lager.
We made our way back to the resort and chatted with our new friends about the opening hunt. Once we got back we settled into the resort and had a drink on the beach and learned our surroundings. We then made a game plan for dinner. They say when in Rome do as the Romans do, for Skyla that meant a dedicated test to find the best Taco in Mazatlan.
Day 2
Another early morning in the lobby with coffee and pastries but this time there was about 6 other hunters there waiting with us along with the Michigan boys. The guides were chatting and murmuring about a game plan for the whole group. Finally the lot of us were wrangled and we all hopped in our respective vehicals. Hector turned back grinning and said today was a special day, we were going to the bluebill pond. Unsure of what he meant we all agreed that it sounded like a good time. Little did we know this was the signature hunt of the whole trip. We fell into a line of trucks and bumped throught the Mexican farm land, we weaved through chili and agave farms. We pulled up at about 10 after sunrise and met 4 more trucks on the side of a couple 100 acre red chili field. 11 of us were marched to a levy and placed in a long line with chairs all the way down. We were all told to watch the far end of the pond which was more like a small reservoir and when we had birds over head to shoot. No decoys, no calls just a few local boys with palm leaves marching to the far end of the pond. A bit confused we all agreed and began loading as a few birds began to fly over. The levy was positioned between the pond and an estuary that bleed out into the Pacific. Behind us pelicans, curlew, and an assortment of shore birds relax in the warm Mexican weather. We all loaded guns and we could feel the eyes of everyone linger on the fact that Skyla was the only girl there and that the rest of the hunting party had retired around the years we were born.
The first flock of 50 of so Scaup headed towards us and the guides began to point out the to the chatting guys. Guns were raised and a volley of shots began as bird after bird fell. It became a constant of shoot, load, shoot, load as each guides and bird boys started to stack a mix of scaup, ruddy ducks, and occasional teal behind their respective hunters. At some points we had a chance to sit back and watch the birds tranfer back to the end of the pond before the boys with palm leaves waived them back to us. What would become one of the biggest highlights of the hunt was when a single lesser began his decent towards us. 11 guns raised but I made the point to loady push Skyla to shoot. Like dominoes everyone lowered their guns one after another and heads turned to make Skyla the center of attention. Without her noticing the audince of about 20 guides and hunters she raised the 12ga and folded that bird like fresh laundry. A cheer from everyone rang out and a one fellow hunter gave a simple "that a girl" a very proud moment for a young husband. For about 2 hours we each went through 100 shells and watch the stacks of birds behind us quickly grow into mountains. Some flocks that made their way over us were in the 100s. Not all the birds made it back to us tho, after our second big volley we noticed a few ducks bobbing up and down in the water. I figured they needed finishing off but then we saw small heads gripping onto them. Turtles, little box turtles had heard the dinner bells ring and had a grand feast thanks to us.
One big thing to note about Mazatlan is that tho the bird limits look extermely liberal, more birds are harvested opening weekend of the California Waterfowl season then all year long in Sinaloa.
After the hunt we made our way back to the resort and decided we needed to find Margaritas for dinner so we found a new taco joint just acrossed the road in a mall. Skyla of course continued her test and we settled in for another early morning.
Day 3
Its always amazed me whether it's a mountain elk camp or comfy hotel rooms, getting up early to hunt is never a problem. Day 3 was back to our small group of 4 and a bitter further of a drive. This time we had to make a stop along the way at a tollboth as we were heading to a new area and the Mexican goverment needed their cut. We drove for about 2 hours and got to a small stagnant cattle pond with thick brush around it. We were told to sit still and be quite as the birds we be able to see us and were more weary of this spot. This felt very much like our style hunts even complete with a few decoys. I felt right at home.
We had began to feel anxious as we had been killing birds but the main target bird, the Cinnamon, had still eluded us to this point. Hector said we had a chance here but not to pass up any birds waiting for one.
We loaded up and began to wait, and wait we did. This hunt very much felt like home. A couple spoonies and blue wings came through but not the volume we had been used to. Hector was feeling it more then us and it wasn't long and he was on the phone finding us another spot. We packed up and drove a few miles to a bit more habited area chalked full of fruit farms. We pulled into a field full of softball sized watermelons and a single tree, unsure what exaclty was going on we all shared glances of confussion until Hector motioned for us to follow him to the tree. About 10 yards off and the familiar sound began to echo past us, birds on the water. A few steps and we understood the tree was the top of an indent in the earth full of water and 100s of blue wings. They jumped up and took off and we got setup and we watched them duck into a similar divot about 200 yards away. It wouldn't take long and the flight was on 100s of Blues buzzed us and did the normal teal swing into the pond we let them have it. We were tuned up enough that pick up after the first volley needed all hands on deck and I found my self combing over watermelons looking for a downed bird. Very unqiue to be honest, one of those you would never know until you did it moments. The crip knew I was on him and had found a cracked melon to hide in. It was an odd one as it was the first bird I had ever recovered covered in something red that wasn't blood.
This hunt would become a mass amount of fun and fire power as flocks of teal played leap frog acrossed the ag land and wa would wait and then blast away every 10 minutes or so, but still no Cinnamon.
On the ride back our Michigan friends let us know that they would be leaving us after this hunt as their days were up. Handshakes and hugs for our new Midwest friends ended their hunt and they were back to the colds of the US. I decided we needed some romance for the evening so we had a long walk on the beach at sunset and I can't say it was a poor sight.
We would later be almost stranded on that island by the used car salesmen of Mexicos tourism industry that definitely had to many beers on the way out. But hey we made it back so all good.
Day 4
It was odd to be up and at it with only Hector and bird boys in the lobby of a 30 story hotel at 4 am. The resort aspect of the whole trip was unqiue, you had the wealthies of the world strolling around in swim trucks and bikinis and then us in muddy bloody camo and packs all mixed together, we did get more eyes then we gave thats for sure.
We hopped in the truck and Skyla sprawled out in the new found space of the empty seats and quickly passed out. Hector turned back to me and with satisfied excitment said "Cinnamon Mr Tel, Cinnamon today" We roled down the dark roads of Mazatlan and it was odd to think we felt safe and excited only miles from true Narco land. Skyla and I still remark about how we felt safer there then the eroding City of Denver she grew up in. We hit the banks of the Pacific at sunrise and watched a part of the world we rarely see come alive. We drove down the sandy beach for a while and came up to a new spot only a few yards from the ocean. We unloaded and Hector tossed us each old green irrigation boots which were more of a one sizes has to fit style. Wouldn't be long and those boots would come in handy as we waded through just above ankle high water to a raised pallet blind with some willows stuck around it. Hector pointed out flyways and retreated 100ish yards away into the brush. It was great to have a bit of distance for Skyla and I to feel like we were soloing it. First flock of about 5 green wings came in and we nocked down a few, minutes later some shovelers and blue wings made their apperance and Skyla nocked down a mature drake blue wing. This continued for about 30 minutes before another flock of blue wings and one odd ball buzzed us on the right, Skyla was watching a distant group so I raised my gun and focused in the goof knowing he was something different. A blast from the gun and Hector began to cheer! "Cinnamon, Cinnamon" he yelled as he went charging into the water. Scouping it up into his hands and laying every feather in its place as he presented it to me knowing it was the trophy of a lifetime. The stunning bird shined in the warming sun. A feeling of gratitude and accomplishment came over and birds passed as I was carefully examining each feather on this bucketlist bird. Now that I had checked him off my list it was time to focus on Skyla getting one. We settled in and started to exaime each flock looking for another, finally after about 20 minutes another group of blues swung through with an odd man out. I pointed out the target and Skyla lifted her gun as quick as she could to catch up with the fleeding flock. She shot once and the cinnamon glided down from a clipped wing, All of us at one time howled for her to dust him again, she swatted him and Hector did another jaunt into the marsh and grabbed the beat up bird. None the less we had accomplished our goal. We were fortunate enough to sneak out one more and a few other species on the final hunt of the trip. Trifecta Complete
I always say God has a sense of humor, the last minute Cinnamons prove that further to me. This was truly a remarkable trip. To be fortunate enough to take my wife on a trip like this and hunt internationally at our age is something I truly would have never thought I would never be able to do. Leaving my little corner of Colorado to chase fowl with my best friend only fed the fire to explore every corner of the globe.
The following days we caught up on some sleep, played on the beach for hours, got a bit more then a little sunburn, and most importantly ate the best seafood Mexico has to offer. We made it home a few day later to a snowy Colorado, reminiscing on the Huntingmoon of a lifetime.
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