The last embers of our “Colorado Mountain High” campfire were turning to gray ashes. I poked what was left of the fire which had earlier in the evening prompted many tales of great stags bested. The others had long since excused themselves and gone to bed..   The dying coals sent offerings of bright sparks to the dark heavens above. Way off in the distance I heard a faint high-pitched whistle.   It was so distant I questioned if indeed it really was a …… Then just beyond our…