I used to hunt deer, and often carried a rifle. I remember one Thanksgiving hunt during a fierce snowstorm. (I was young and made of iron.) Walking in the gathering snow was very quiet as I still-hunted in hemlocks and thickets where I thought that bucks would be bedded. I was surprised to find that walking soon became difficult. Snow was falling at a frenzied pace and visibility was barely twenty yards. I became aware that I couldn't safely tell what laid beyond any possible target. Figuring that 'discretion was the better part of valor', I pulled out the compass and struck a line back to my grandparents' farmhouse.
Apparently my wife and others were worried about me getting hurt and being buried under the accumulating snow, ..that no one would be able to find me,.. etc. (It's seems funny how people dream up such scenarios.) As I stepped up onto the porch, the women of the house met me at the door, chastised me for worrying them and demanded that I shake off all the snow -- the pent-up anxiety had found its mark.
I didn't have to hurry. We were "snowed in" until the weekend.
These days, I hunt with a shotgun and dog. It feels more pleasurable to me. Sometimes, I even load the gun.
I love watching 'bird dogs' work, and the companionship they provide.
Then too, there's the aspect of teamwork between the hunter and canine--a muse best left for another time.
This past Thanksgiving found me in another snowstorm--though not nearly as onerous as the aforementioned one. The dog and I found only one bird--any others were either long gone or sheltered in the trees. I was reminded of that Thanksgiving day so long ago as the snow began to fall. At first the K-Lee and I didn't mind it much, but as it continued, past experiences told me that we had hunted enough. Since our mission was accomplished and we 'kept the tradition alive',
we hiked to the truck and headed home. Our hearts felt 'the pull' of loved ones gathered near a warm fire.
For such things and more, I thank Providence.
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