Hunting

Hunting is much more sedentary than I thought. It was about thirty-three degrees as we sat in a thinly walled blind at seven in the morning. We saw a young buck graze our carrots for about an hour, but he was too young to kill. So we kept on sitting like that for over two hours. I learned that this is a common experience for hunters.

It's not what I was expecting. In my imagination, I pictured shouldering my gun through birch trees, taking a knee to study tracks and broken branches, peering from behind a tree and taking my pick from a heard of large bucks.

No, hunting is a sport of waiting for what comes your way, being on the lookout and ready to act when
the moment is just right. It takes patience more than anything.

Other people were hunting today. All over the country, thirsty herds have been stampeding after bargains and deals. This is a different sport, one that discards patience, where "let things come your way" leaves you in the back, eating dust.

But I was content this morning, sitting by my uncle in silence as we peered into the dark and cold morning and the snow began to fall.