Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Fall is here
and the cool air hitting my face is beckoning me upland. The winged creatures feel a similar call, and they begin their Southward journey just as I want to head North. I like to look skyward, and watch these graceful creatures soar in formation, headed to Florida. I shout at them: "Wee Nancies." Never run from the cold.
The coming of Fall is, for me, the siren song of the woods. I can no more resist it than if Angela Lansbury waved the Queen of Diamonds in my face and told me, "go hunt deer." I will go to the cabin with a rifle, a crate of bourbon, sixteen pounds of hoofed-animal flesh and an ice truck worth of beer, and begin again the quest to shoot at other hoofed animals.
It is a tradition that begins early in life:
But it is a tradition that only comes to its full fruition when experience and a mature temperment allow the mind and spirit to process all of the unique sensations that the hunter imbibes: that peculiar mix of exhaustion, bitter cold, peace, adrenalin, raw natural beauty, and indigestion. Yes, only with years of observing and nurturing these experiences can one come to truly appreciate the beauty that is the hunt:
ht: Beetz for photography prowess
The coming of Fall is, for me, the siren song of the woods. I can no more resist it than if Angela Lansbury waved the Queen of Diamonds in my face and told me, "go hunt deer." I will go to the cabin with a rifle, a crate of bourbon, sixteen pounds of hoofed-animal flesh and an ice truck worth of beer, and begin again the quest to shoot at other hoofed animals.
It is a tradition that begins early in life:
But it is a tradition that only comes to its full fruition when experience and a mature temperment allow the mind and spirit to process all of the unique sensations that the hunter imbibes: that peculiar mix of exhaustion, bitter cold, peace, adrenalin, raw natural beauty, and indigestion. Yes, only with years of observing and nurturing these experiences can one come to truly appreciate the beauty that is the hunt:
ht: Beetz for photography prowess
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
AddThis
Always sniffing for the truth
9 comments:
Fred never new you were such a poet. But you hit the nail right on the head. That first morning where my drowsy eyes popped open as the first real cool grip of fall hit me the same thoughts came to me. Sitting in the woods as the last few moments of opening day sink behind the mountains as darkness envelopes our little party and the woods explode with life as we stroll with lights in hands back to our vehicles excited to tell tales of what was seen and what could of been as we eagerly anticipate the smell of the grill and some nice charred barrel spirits
Brav-o, Beetz.
You're a better man than I. That walk out on day one I'm usually disappointed more than anticipatory.
But that's what that ole Kentucky medicine is for.
I say that now as I'm looking through Rose colored glasses
If Fredo had three girls
The placid calm of Mother Nature combined with the searing rush of breathing icy morning air fills me with an instinctual, animalistic desire.
To take a nice nap leaning against a tree.
Can't wait for November.
Hey DC I bet you can't wait to hear the gentle sounds of birds chirping, squirrels barking, wind blowing through the last remaining leaves of the season as a stream slowly bubbles down over a small waterfall between No Doubt songs
Exactly, Dogg.
Put a Sam Cherry Wheat or a SoCo and Coke in my paw and you paint my image of the afterlife...
LOL at both of you.
Well if I can't shoot a deer might as well shoot some pictures