About 40 years ago (I'm no Spring Chicken), my father and I went on Antelope hunt in southern Wyoming. We had hunted the area before .. we knew the people who owned the land, and we had received permission to hunt the land.
The Section was divided into several grazing ranges for cattle, so there were fences which we had to navigate and gates which we needed to cross through from time to time.
We were in his 1960 Dodge Pick-up truck, and I was driving. I had chosen to drive, so that when we crossed through a fence-line he would be the one who had to get out and open/close the gate. (We scrambled for the drivers seat, like teenagers! ) This was in an area many miles away from developed roads, so we were traveling on the same rough dirt roads which the landowner traveled to ensure that the stock-ponds were filled, and to move his cattle. No residences nearby .. it was wild country.
As we approached a gate through one of the fences, we encountered a party of four or five men on foot, coming out of the fenced area. They had already opened the gate, so we waited until they had exited the gate. They were on foot, and armed with rifles; apparently they had been hunting the area.
As they came along the side of our truck, we said hello and they replied most discourteously. In fact, they were not only rude, but they were aggressive. They made comments to the effect that they didn't have to walk when here was a truck and they could ride home. It was obvious that they held no good will toward us, although we had never met any of them before and so they had no reason to mean us ill will.
