Home from the Fall Hunt

2 Partridge. That’s what I brought home from  8 days of getting up at 5:30 am to be in the woods around sun up 6:45. Several days I was in the hills sitting in ambush waiting for a deer to come up past me.  Each day I stalked and hiked for several hours. In the afternoon and evening I pretty much drove slowly around logging roads off the beaten track staring out over slash.  No bucks

I saw a fox and a coyote. I saw lots of doe. Rabbits, squirrels and grouse.   I saw a red brown black bear, a spirit bear of the local people. I’d never seen that colour of bear. Almost Irish hair colour. Given the sexual proclivities of that people, one had to wonder seeing this magnificent beautiful fat full haired red head ready for hibernation. I wonder if they considered ancestry now.

Then there was a skunk. The second last day of the hunt running along the road a head of me. Almost like God saying , “You’re skunked”. With humor. It’s not about the outcome. It’s always about the journey. Leave the outcomes to God. Carpe diem.

So I didn’t shoot a buck, or a bear or a six point elk. I’d hoped for that at the beginning of the hunt. I mostly wanted venison for venison stew through the winter. I like wild game gourmet cooking and also barbecuing so have always enjoyed a freezer full of meat ready for preparation. With the ranchers hurting with Covid I even thought of approaching one to buy a quarter. Maybe this winter.  We’ve an American world election to get through.

What I did gain was the escape. I had a tremendous break from working at home. I find my work wears. So many people are hurting with Covid. The anxiety levels and relapses and addiction and depressions have sky rocketed. Domestic disputes and separations. Grieving loss of elderly family who couldn’t be seen because of quarantines.  All that is tiresome. I’m isolated too.  I’ve been to zoom meetings and watched some zoom church but participated little. 

There was Gilbert’s death. I was surprised at how his departure awakened all the losses in recent years.  It was reassuring to have glimpses of the other side through his eyes. He told me he had his sight back and he could run forever. He even let me see my other dogs running with him and my father and brother throwing ball for him. My mom and aunt were there too but I didn’t see them.  Mostly it was Dad and him. Dad called him “monkey dog’ and they loved to play with each other.  

In the truck hunting, I missed his prescence in the passenger seat but we talked for the first few days. Every once in a while I’d remember something special and we cried a new. So the trip was a time for me to deal with grief.  I felt each day I became stronger and now I’m ready to move on. Laura and I will bury the ashes in the next few weeks.

We have a new cockapoo on the way. I was able to get through to a breeder and put down a down payment.  He’ll be ready to come to my home in a few weeks. It’s not that far.

I loved having lunch with Laura each day. She’d make soup and sandwiches. Then she’d tell me of the visits in her little neighborhood around the camper. The geese coming and going. The momma deer and her couple of young ones. The day the bear got into the dumpster bin and made a lot of noise and mess. 

I loved taking pictures the whole week, mostly with my iPhone. The Clark’s Nutcracker was a real treat. I’d never seen them before and Rob sorted me out on them when I posted a picture.  I loved the Downy Woodpecker on the Mullen and the Whiskey Jacks that visitted me.

There was a first.  That was the unloading of the camper from the truck so I could use the truck to hunt. It worked out really well though the last night I was up several times worried the struts wouldn’t come up to allow me to reload the truck.  They did. The other technical thing that worked so well was my Iridium Satellite phone and the Garmin Insight watch. I was able to get the watch GPS coordinates and text them to Laura on the Satellite phone. That was comforting. I was climbing up and down mountainsides slipping and sliding and worried about breaking an ankle or falling and hitting my head. I’m simply not the guy who was called ‘billy goat gruff’ when I was younger. I loved the exercise though. The hours of hiking and stalking mostly.  Then the rushes after bunnies or deer or grouse that got away. I ran straight up a hill after what I thought was a buck but though I could have had a shot in the woods I couldn’t confirm the horns. 

Laura said her shoulders came down from her ears, the tension and demands of her work taking a couple of days till she relaxed. She loved the peacefulness of the place. I realized I wouldn’t have relaxed so thoroughly on a beach in the tropics but 4x4 ing along steep mountain trails alongside cliff fall off focused my attention away from anxiety and grief.

Hunting is a vacation. I admit I’d rather have someone feed me grapes as I’m poled down a southern stream in the warm as opposed to the cold and snow and rain, but God knows best. Home I feel I’ve had a fabulous vacation and I do have two grouse to cube, fry in butter and serve on rice.

It turns out I’ll even get another weekend of hunting yet so can be hopeful.  Next year I’ll have another trained cockapoo companion.  I realized that Gilbert’s enthusiasm made the hunts so much more and a dog is really so much of what makes a home. Since childhood I’ve known dogs as companions and love their company and joy.

Laura thanked me and was off to work at dawn in her red smart car. I’m going to go to the computer and video screen home office now. It’s great to be home. Thank you God.