As countless millions of outdoorsmen’s and women’s hunting plans are structured around the seasons, they are done so usually without spending a moment contemplating when our last season will roll around.
Each year I read articles of famous outdoorsman known for duck hunting, dangerous game or even lifelong anglers coming to a close. Intrepid travelers, explorers and weekend fishing show legends all; however, it’s always riding off into the sunset memory of each. Remembering their characteristics, mannerisms or outdoor styles we revel in their collective accomplishments. We strive to be “like” them in all that we do.
I’ve rarely considered what, if anything about how I would handle seasons coming to a close when I wasn’t able to participate fully, completely involved and submersed into it like I’ve always been. This year, the year of the ongoing pandemic has me delving into those thoughts along with reflections on what I’ve accomplished so far in my life’s many seasons. I’m not a famous person, in fact in today’s online environment I’m barely known although I’ve had a growing online presence for years.
I’m not sure when my final season will roll around; however, it’s closer than I would want, that I know.
I’ve always been a provider for my family, so hunting and fishing always came as an added bonus, not as a given. There were seasons I missed along the way because of other commitments, just like multitudes of others. When time and finances allowed, I pursued these seasons with great vigor and I always enjoyed the outcome. I’ve been fortunate to have hunted and fished in eight states from as far west as New Mexico, north to Minnesota, south to Florida and many in between. These last five seasons I’ve been walking up and down the hills & hollers of NW Georgia.
There’s been successful adventures (if you require that game be taken) and many others where I came back empty handed. All were worth every second spent pursuing. I’ve learned along the way that it isn’t required to come home with game to have had a great time. Bringing back the memories is what matters most. Ending a season just means that you start planning the next. And on and on it goes until there are no more next seasons.
We know the dates, we know the locations – we just don’t know for sure if either of us will be up to the task.
I’m not sure when my final season will roll around; however, it’s closer than I would want, that I know. What I can plan for is that I hunt public land and for that I’m guaranteed hills and hollers, no flat land to be had. These aging legs and muscles strain to overcome these obstacles all the while trying to keep up with a much younger mind and soul. Each year I plan my deer hunting through satellite maps of where we’ll camp, how far I’ll walk in and the route I’ll take. Planning these seasons is what my mind survives on. It’s the food for the heart and soul of a hunter-gatherer!
Two years ago I ended the final day of deer season being stalked by anti-hunters. That was a first for me, another unplanned outcome of a well-planned adventure. That’s just an example of years of stories collected in my mind that could fill volumes. I’ve hunted hogs on horseback with handguns in northern Arkansas and was pursued by beavers along a creek in Illinois. I’ve taken deer as large as small equine and hogs the size of bovine; however, I’ve come home empty handed more often than not. Each season has been an adventure with great memories, times spent around a campfire with great family and friends along the way.
This year, the year of the ongoing pandemic has me delving into those thoughts along with reflections on what I’ve accomplished so far in my life’s many seasons.
This year’s deer hunt has been tentatively planned with my brother-in-law for some public land deer. We know the dates, we know the locations – we just don’t know for sure if either of us will be up to the task. He being seven years my senior yet I’m afraid he’s in better shape than I. Age and illness has not weathered well on me in my final seasons.
“Final seasons”, which sounds so terminal doesn’t mean I’m passing any time soon; however, it does suggest that big game hunting may be coming to an end. This year, for the first time, I’ll be deer hunting on daily hunts (arrive in the am and depart home after the days hunt) rather than camping on public land. Something that I will miss dearly. Last year’s deer season ended abruptly with me in the hospital from diabetic shock. Something I don’t intend to repeat this year.
Seasons always come to an end bringing forward the next, providing us with an ongoing adventure not unlike life overall. These thoughts have brought sadness to my soul all the while covering me in calm as I think back through all the adventures, no matter how insignificant or how outrageous they were. Memories will stick with me even after I’ve spent my last season in the field.
“Keep moving forward.”
In my latter years I’ve hunted with a great friend who is also a brother-in-law. While we camped together we always went our separate ways while in the field. Daily adventures were always discussed around the campfire after dark as we prepared dinner and settled in for an early rise. Often I reflect back on the campfire sits as a huge part of the adventure. It will be a strange deer season this year without that savored activity.
So as I’m looking forward to this year’s season opener I’m also very aware of how different it will be, and I’m hoping that it will still feed my memory banks with the details I need to keep moving forward. “Keep moving forward”, a phrase that my wife and I have adopted from some unrelated social media satire; though, we both realize just how well it fits us these days. Keep moving forward my friends, till next season!
A North American Hunting & Fishing Chronicle From the Author’s Intro: “You’re in no hurry to finish (writing) the book and are instead content to let it proceed at its own pace and with its own rhythms. For the creative process is too delightful and blissfully close for you to want it to end, and the only concern you have is that you might die prematurely and leave it unfinished and no one will know.” …And that is precisely what almost happened. Because less than a week after the author and his daughter returned from their latest adventure along the Georgia coast hunting redfish, he suffered a sudden heart attack that nearly took him. And thought this book was for all intents and purposes finished, that single event re-shaped it in ways even the writer himself could never have imaged. Buy Now
