Empty

The woods of my dreams are empty now.

Well, empty of man, anyway: empty of hunters.

Conclusions of seasons always leave me feeling bittersweet.  Always there are fond memories. Always there is sadness and longing that it has past.

Deer woods seem somewhat melancholy to me, but only when empty of deer.  Once a deer enters the space I can see, life returns and the woods come alive.

Now in winter, there is mostly snow and gray tree trunks and cold northwest wind.

Much of the animal life is static, waiting out the cold.  The hunter is mostly quiet, too, back to living his life, looking ahead to the next season.

There will be trips afield to scout new stand locations, treestands will be pulled down.  A few small game hunts will take place.

 

 

But the big times of October and November are gone.

Thankfully, future meals of venison will fuel the hunter's imagination and trigger memories that warm his heart.

The long days spent perched high in a treestand waiting for deer that never show are remembered as pleasant and fun.  The numb feet and deep boredom are conveniently forgotten.  This is a good thing, this stuff of memories.

It is also good that this land is empty of man now.  The deer and other creatures go about their tough business of making a living with one less thing to worry about.  That is good.

Comments

[rick jelak]

Empty, but flush with memorys of the past and dreams of tomorrow!!!