-Finding solace and connection with quote from an article by Doug Stamm entitled "Winter Wonder Grouse" found in the most recent edition of Fur Fish & Game-
"Yet, in the end, the winter grouse usually wins. After all, these are the wariest and the wisest. A walk in wild places is the only thing guaranteed -- and that is more than enough for me. If I am fortunate enough to bag one for dinner, I count myself lucky. When a bird flies away over a ridge, I tip my cap and wish it a bountiful spring."
Once More Down the Road
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Sunday being the day off for hunting in the lovely state of Maine, I decided it might be as good a time as any to go break some clays, gotta stay sha'hp don'tcha know. So I go down to the pit with Matt, the girls, and Abby in tow. After both doing fairly well on our first few clays, Matt and I decided to amble into the pit and get a better look at a pumpkin that was just itching to be shot at. As we stood surveying the harvest fruit, two partridge exploded from the brush we had just showered with orange powder and bird shot. Taking wing, they flew across the pit, right to left offering both of us wide open unimpeded views of them. Both of us stood there, wide eyed and moon faced, white knuckles clutching loaded guns, but what're ya gonna do? Guess it's hard tell'in not know'in.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
King
of the Thicket & Burr
Hidden
away, among the thorns he struts; not passively mind you, but without
any notable purpose. He dodges the advances of the oncoming spikes,
bobbing and weaving masterfully through the maze of brambles he's
become so familiar with. He stops momentarily, just long enough to
devour several ripe barberries, then again commences his journey. The
trajectory of his trek is North, North East, and up a south facing
slope. It's not a steep incline, but in combination with the thick
underbrush it serves as sufficient refuge; sanctuary from the meek or
lazy. As he reaches the top of the incline the brambles begin to
recede, opening up to the lush forest floor carpeted with leaves.
Their colors pale only in comparison to the rich aroma cascading off
of them. It comes as a welcome side-effect of their decomposition.
Within this break in the chaos of snarled branches and pricker bushes
stand three derelict apple trees. Standing alone as the last
remaining members of what was once a proud orchard.
To the
rarely exposed human eye, the presence of the three trees evokes a
nostalgic emotions, as if the trees themselves where channeling
ancestral memories from a simpler past. At the same time, their
presence provides a comforting reminder of the circle of life,
adaptation, and wholeness. Even in their absence, humans can still
provide for nature and the wild things that inhabit it. It is a
reminder that all things have a cycle and balance. To the King of
the Thicket and Burs, they are not memories or reminders, they are
only trees. What the views of our two species have in common, is the
trees roles as beacons. To us, the beacon is a metaphor for an
emotional ignition, spiritual catalyst; it is something abstract. To
his majesty it is concrete, a physical landmark if you will, but
more importantly supper .
He
waste no time moving across the ten foot distances between each tree,
stopping only when one of the many of the fallen fruits that litter
the forest floor proved to be just to appetizing to evade. Nearing
the end of the Orchard he reaches a decrepit moss covered stone
wall. The skeletal remains of a large sugar maple lays across the
cobbled fence. In one swift flapping motion of his wings and a push
from his muscular legs, he perches on the rough bark. From atop his
throne he can clearly see his kingdom, and soon enough he will begin
beating a rhythm that will echo out over it proclaiming to
adversaries and suitors alike that this land is his.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)