Bowhunting.net
The Gift
By Patrick Gordon
Dec 8, 2005, 00:34
It’s 3:30 am. The morning sun hasn’t yet begun to think of
starting its long journey across the sky.
Warm blankets surround your body and gentle dreams are flowing like a
long lazy river through your mind. The
stillness is broken by the buzz of the alarm cutting through the quiet morning
like a plow grating over dry pavement.
On any normal day this would send shivers through your spine as you
struggle to wake for another long monotonous day. However, today is a special day. One you’ve waited and prepared for all summer
long. The excitement of this morning
kept you up later than you wanted to be the night before, yet you spring from
your bed with excitement that could be described as the wide eyed wonder of a
child on Christmas morning knowing what lie ahead.
Many people would
see our morning ritual of descent showers, brushing our teeth with baking soda,
and stepping out into the chill morning air at this hour as the insane act of a
disturbed human soul. To us, the hunter,
it means much, much more. To me, it
means many things. It is much deeper
than matching wits with a wily adversary or the rush of adrenaline as game
flickers by like a silent apparition.
I was recently
posed a question by a very close friend and hunting partner. Why do you hunt? I thought about this question for quite a
while before writing down a list which grew and grew as memories flooded my
mind. I was intrigued by my list and
decided to pose this exact question to the masses via the forum on this site. The single common answer I found was that in
every case, even if the answers are exactly the same, our reasons are our
own. No two experiences can ever be
interpreted by another in exactly the same way.
The following are some of my personal reasons that I love to hunt. I refer to them as a gift.
I work as a
professional firefighter about an hour from Chicago.
Every third day for 24 hours I eat, share meal time, work, and sleep
with 3 others of my crew. My off days
are spent in front of a classroom as a safety instructor at US Steel, spending
time with people close to me, and the mundane day to day tasks we all share in
common. Throughout the year, I rarely
have time I can truly call my own.
Surrounded by people, activities and life takes its toll on a man who
grew up in a small secluded town in eastern Montana.
Bow hunting allows me to escape the hustle and bustle of the daily
grind. I can lose myself in the woods,
let my mind go, refocus, and relax. It
is a time of harmony for my mind, body and soul. Truly a rejuvenating experience.
Sitting silently
in a stand, every sense in my body tingling and sharp. The soft rustle of leaves, a twig snapping in
the forest, the smell of the early morning air, the sharp bite of the wind all
set my mind on fire. Watching squirrels
wrestling, scolding and working to hide their nut bounty for the snows about to
come. Doe and fawn running and playing,
nibbling here and there while remaining ever sharp with noses raised to the
wind. The cry of the hawk as it circles
overhead, its watchful eyes scanning the ground for its own game. A big fat raccoon lounging lazily with legs
hanging off a large branch at eye level and the birds, the thousands of
different makes and models they come in.
Every color of the rainbow and every song in the world can be heard and
seen in these amazing winged creatures.
Even the caterpillar that sinks slowly onto my knee on a fine web of
silk brings a smile to my face. These
experiences are a gift that only God could provide.
Before each hunt,
I have a very special ritual that I must complete. As I step from the shower and begin to dress,
I pop in an old, worn cassette tape. The
ancient recordings sound metallic and hollow as old country singers wail out
their sad tunes. It brings a smile to my
face as memories of my father come to me.
My father passed away only a short time ago. I remember at 12 years old, climbing into the
big Chevy Blazer that my father bought because that’s what the “guys” were
buying to hunt in back then. My father
wasn’t the biggest hunter or outdoorsman in the world and sometimes I thought
that he only went because he knew how much I loved to go with him. Our drive to the hunting area was sometimes
over two hours from home and to stay awake he would put in this exact same tape
as we traveled along. It was one of the
few times I ever heard my father sing, but sing he did. His voice would boom along to the tunes as we
drove and I would join in with my high pitched prepubescent tones. I like to believe even now that those small
moments in time were some of my father’s happiest. I know they were some of mine.
All in all, we all
have our own reasons for hunting. Many
are the same, but the experiences are all our own. They should be cherished, nurtured,
remembered, and shared with our children and loved ones. We should build new and special memories
every chance that we get. Make and keep
honor and honesty a priority to save our hunting heritage. Practice fair chase and preserve our game for
future generations and keep ourselves and others safe so that they may enjoy
the hunt as much as we do. Remember what
drives you, the experiences that you live, and the things you see. Share them, but keep them your own.
© Copyright 2005 by
Bowhunting.net