Butchering a Bison with Clovis Points and Tools

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The hunt is on. We drop off the wind-whipped mountain road and descend through the fog toward the rain-drenched forest below. Tight lips belie heavy chests, high hopes, and the highest stakes. Our boots thud and click and slide under an urgent pace along the plummeting trail. Tabs stick from cut greenbrier stems where deer have recently fed. I wonder if any black bears are up and at ‘em yet for the spring feeding. But we’re not chasing mountain...