A Memorable Hunt
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Man I'm tired I think..oh well, it's not the first time. Jeans, heavy long undershirt, my lucky hooded and tattered sweatshirt..finally my pac boots and my favorite upland jacket. Check the shell loops..yup..all filled with skeet loads of #9..sweet and pleasant loads, but deadly for my task. I close my eyes as I feel the full shell loops and imagine them.. Ghostly shapes fluttering in thru the gum and cedar..almost surreal in their flight. I can imagine the play to unfold..the flush, the breath pushing me up, billowing my sails..and the oft rehearsed mount, swing and follow thru. I'm ready..gun case in hand, I close the door silently behind me. Damn it's cold, being tired makes it seem colder! In the car, and off I go. 15 minutes to my favorite spot, the one I've watched the spirits of the thicket pitch into. It's a long 15 minutes. Finally I arrive, and as I close the door behind me..the snow begins. Mmmm...going to be a chilly hunt. The wind drives the hard granular snow into my eyes and face, stinging. I put on my shooting glasses, load up the Savage and head down the trail to the magical place that is my destination. Thickets of gum, cedar, sassafrass and rye grass bordering wet oak bottomland, what finer wintering area could they have? 12 paces, rabbit bursts out of the underbrush...snap, fire..clean miss..rookie mistake. My breath fogs my glasses, and the snow freezes on the lenses. I remember why I wear them, the time I caught a briar under my right eye. I can't hunt with them freezing on me..I make a decision. I put them back in their case. 30 paces, thick cedar boughs covered with powdered sugar snow..I stop for a second to admire the morning. I step forward.. Wheeessshhhhhhhhh!!!!!! One's up!! Cinnamon underside, dead leaf pattern overcoat..long bill angled to the ground..twisting up and finally leveling off. I don't recall the shot, all I'm aware of is the tumbling form shaking the sugar from the cedar boughs as it touches gently almost every bough as it pinwheels to earth. My breath catches in my throat..I eject the spent casing and bend to retrieve it. Working on auto, I mark the tree where it fell and step closer to the thicket.. Wheeesssshhhh!!!! Behind me!! Another rookie mistake! Mount, swing..argh..branches. It sails off towards the woods, no shot on that one today. I chuckle..what a dope! I'm still smiling as I retrieve the folded Woodcock From under the cedar. What a fine bird..barred feathers on the nape of the neck, cinnamon and sepia toned undersides, and the perfectly camouflage topside. How many have had their heart in their throat as him or one of his kind burst from beneath their feet? In the jacket he goes, with luck one more will follow. I walk around the thicket to the trail into the woods, and again, another cottontail bursts out of the cover. I laugh as it clears the trail and enters the woods almost in exactly the same spot as the other woodcock. I'm still laughing at the snowy ground explodes in front of me and another rises to the air. And again, I cannot remember the shot, just the tumbling form. Again I admire its form, its natural beauty. In the jacket it goes. I start to walk down the trail towards the thickest of the cover as the wind and snow pick up, hoping for my third and final bird..my limit. I hear it first in the wind, then inside of me..and I listen to it. It says, "Who needs to limit, haven't you had enough for today?" And I agree...and head back to the car as the snow begins to come down in greater amounts every minute.
It swirls behind the car as I drive down the lane..and towards my home.
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