A MOST GRATIFYING HUNT

I seldom hesitate to find a title for a post.  Every little event is rattling in my mind, and I tend to spin them out in short order without a problem.  This hunt, of 2019, however, was different.  Not necessarily the most memorable (check out the hunt of 1963- in a 2013 blog), but very different and fulfilling, thanks in part to the contribution of Grandson Andrew.  Andrew is one of those "Eveready Battery" bunnies.  The kind that just keep on going and don't run out of juice.  He just keeps on going!  I could do that too "a short time ago", but my juice doesn't last that long, especially going up and down certain topography, such as our little woodland.

After standing quietly for a few hours on opening morning, Andrew started a stealthy walk through the forest.  "We call it still hunting". He came upon a fresh blood trail (wounded deer) and followed it for some time before it petered out.  We decided we would let it rest and come back to pick up the trail in the afternoon.

Andrew led me to the start of the trail, which he had marked with an orange scarf.  The trail led us down into a deep ravine which we refer to as the cottonwoods, an area invested with gnarly buckthorn and berry bushes.  After a while, I decided that I was entitled to a rest and chose a comfortable rock, upon which to repose.  Andrew proceeded on, following the quarry's chosen direction, toward an afternoon stand position.  After a short rest, I proceeded to a seldom used stand in  the far corner of the oaks and sat down on a well worn old and welcome lawn chair (left out there for just such a purpose).

Within an hour, Andrew furnished all of the gratification and satisfaction a hunt needs.  He not only recovered the mortally wounded animal, but kicked up a stealthy buck hiding in the oaks, causing it to run past the old hunter reposing in his lawn chair.  

Results, two for two, satisfying and gratifying.  Good hunt guy.

THE LOON- A TUCKED AWAY MEMORY

I was walking out of a swampy Hemlock forest, tripping and stumbling over various obstacles left by a recent bulldozer visit.  It had been clearing a path for loggers coming to harvest the landlocked forty acres that had provided us with a favorite hunting spot for several years.

I noticed a half buried eight foot long red cedar remnant poking its way out of the brush looking like a lost orphan seeking a ride home.  Red Cedar, being one of my favorite ornamental woods, prompted me to pull out my folding saw, cut it in half, and drag it a half mile back to the truck.

The above ground portion soon became coasters turned on my old wood lathe, but the root section sat in the garage, for- would you guess- about twenty five years, contemplating-on occasion-a suitable fate.

One day, my faithful brother looked at the long forgotten piece of cedar root and mumbled something like “it looks like a loon”. 

Lo and behold, prompted by his artistic conception, I embarked upon the transformation of the lowly cedar root into one of my favorite rustic creations, Mrs. Loon and her two chicks. 

She will probably find a spot to sit for years to come, and early on some mornings I think I hear her calling.  A beautiful cry.  A reminder that there is no such thing as an ugly duckling.  If we look hard enough, we can find beauty in everything.

THERE IS A DIFFERENCE

3/31/19

There is a difference between the “growing up” of today and the same “development” of yesteryear.  I am not comparing millenniums or centuries, but merely a few generations.  I am not comparing worlds or portions of our universe, but only those in our own little piece of humanity.  That being the one in which I was born and reside in to this day. 

It was not so many years ago that living in the outskirts of a city often meant the absence of municipal facilities, such as water, sewer and, yes, even electrical service.  Most of our neighbors drew all their household water from drilled wells.  And most of the water was hand pumped outside and carried into the house by the pail full.  Most bathroom facilities consisted of a remote outhouse, strategically located over a deep hole in ground which had been hand dug sometime previously, only to be relocated as found necessary. 

As society and mechanical aptitude progressed, some neighbors converted to electrically driven pumps and brought running water into their homes, but that did not become commonplace until into the nineteen forties, when municipal sewer systems started to appear in the suburban areas of Milwaukee.

Sidewalks were non-existent, as were paved roads.  Most roads were gravel, as were driveways.  Mobility was not a catch phrase and most travel was done, particularly by the younger generation, by foot.  Go to school by foot, to church by foot, to the park by foot.  And, during those travails, one had no device inserted into the ear providing soothing music or the news (or fake news) of the day.

If you have ever tried to convey a thought or voice an opinion to a member of a younger generation and been met with a “blank stare”, you may comprehend what the preceding thoughts were leading up to.  The basic grounding of “reality” was substantially varied, depending upon the “era” to which one’s youth was exposed during development.

 I, admittedly, only recently realized that I had slipped into the cesspool of un-realization as to the childhood exposures and experiences to which each generation is subjected.  My relatively antiquated generation, for example, could well be left with the same “blank stare” when confronted with the wide proliferation of acronyms oft utilized in our cyber world.  AI, IoT, etc. will often result in a sudden scramble for Google (excuse me-search engine), much in the same way our referencing a blackboard and chalk or the back of a shovel and a piece of charcoal results in a blank stare from much later generations.

So, henceforth, let it be known that a “blank stare” from one of the “now” generation, will no longer cause me to wonder if his or her hearing is as questionable as mine, but realize that generational experiences and exposures have merely resulted in a different data base.