Saturday, June 05, 2010

One Of My Very Favorite Hunting Stories...

Someone asked me that question again today. I have maybe five pieces of short hunting literature that really speak to and for me, and this is one of them.

Click on each page to make it big enough to read conveniently:

One reason I like this is that it's very evocative of some early days in my own hunting life. I never went out as young as the narrator of this story, or with family. But the scene and style put me right back in the old Fairfield days. Up at four, loading Tango into the trailer and chugging up to Newtown in that old Matador, getting in first of all in the chill black New England dark. Trying like crazy to be where Rhoda wanted me to be, when she wanted me there, doing what she wanted me to do. Scampering over those big Yankee stone walls in the dawn, and spending the day in a wild blur.

There's cable now, and lots of channels to ghost.

All the other things going on in my life then, all the other dawn experiences- having grown up responsibilities, living far away from home in a very different place, having seriously important friends, happily drowning in a huge (and I then had reason to believe) somewhat reciprocated crush. And doing all those things- having all those successes- as nobody, from nowhere.

Good times. I'm glad I didn't break my neck, but if I had, it would have been with a big old smile.

I'm sorry, Fox. But thanks.

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