Feeling Small

November’s last day broke with a violent rainstorm. A steady drizzle and a high wind rendered a morning hunt impossible, but by late afternoon the tempest subsided. The air was late-March warm; the mixed stench of night crawlers, stale urine and rotting deer pellets filled the cedar grove. Water dripped. Winter moccasins squished. The year… Continue reading Feeling Small

A Joyous Chorus of Hound Music

Seven woodsmen trudged up the long grade. The blazed trail cut through a young, regenerated forest. At seventy paces, the tight-growing maples, beeches, cherries and oaks looked like an impenetrable gray palisade. Before the first pause, the ragged column strung out. In my usual manner, I guarded the back trail, and grew concerned as the… Continue reading A Joyous Chorus of Hound Music

Hunger Knows No Preference

Morning clouds dispersed. Four wild gobblers gleaned the cornfield, beyond the hayfield, north of the homestead. A brilliant early afternoon sun cast a short shadow from the great oak. The night before’s fresh snow dripped from the eaves. The cabin grew too warm, the space too confining. “Answer the call, go to the woods,” my… Continue reading Hunger Knows No Preference

Feeling a True Kinship

A fox squirrel’s bushy tail flicked, then vanished. A black oak’s welted bark pressed hard against the hunting shirt’s linen shoulder. The tail reappeared, head-high, on the backside of an arching red oak, then disappeared. A slight breeze rustled what few leaves remained overhead. A brown leaf dislodged and spiraled earthward, drifting northeast. I waited.… Continue reading Feeling a True Kinship