If I summarize my thoughts, it’s just that the calendar was running at full speed. Didn’t we just hide Easter eggs and plant tomatoes? This summer, while extremely hot and dry at times, was nowhere near as bad as what we went through last year. There are still dead pine trees everywhere you look, but at least we had enough rain this summer to keep the trees from the stress that made them susceptible to bark beetles. I still see crews with trucks and trailers removing dead trees and debris from last summer’s infestation. But back to the topic of “slip-ups.”
Stacey and I were leaving the restaurant when I heard someone calling my name. I turned around and wondered if it was someone I owed money to. Bubba Powell and Greg McDade were beaming and we started chatting in the parking lot. Greg mentioned that they had just talked about me on their way back from their deer hunt in the Midwest. I asked why, did I owe them money? That got a laugh and they asked me if it wasn’t time I started writing again. Funny you should mention that, I replied.
Our conversation turned to dove hunting, and Greg reminded me of an end-of-season hunt we had done together years ago. I distinctly remember watching doves flock to a harvested soybean field one December afternoon. I made a few calls that evening and got a small group together for a hunt the next morning. We gathered around a black walnut tree in the middle of the field just as the sky to the east was starting to turn pink. We still had coffee cups in our hands. I don’t remember everyone who was there, but I do remember Mr. John McCormick and Mr. Billy Primos meeting us at the tree. Of course, Ford Day and John Hartley were there with shotguns slung over their shoulders. Trey Whitfield was there with his Labrador retriever, Cody. I mentioned Greg earlier, and of course our host, Creede.
The morning was coming to life and we were still standing around the tree watching for where the birds would be, if they showed up at all. You dove hunters know what I’m talking about. Fifteen minutes later and still no birds. Was this going to be a bust? I was always prepared and had my shotgun in hand when a lone gray speedster flanked us about 40 yards away.
He buckled as my old rifle went off. I walked around the walnut tree to get my kill and noticed hundreds of birds flying into the field about 350 yards south of us. A mad dash to the trucks to get hunting vests, bullets and chairs and off we went. It was a hunt for the books and then the beds were lowered for Edam, crackers, summer sausage and Bloody Marys. That’s what it’s all about.
I told Stacey I had to get into the study because it’s that time of year again. Those of you who have been following me and my stories already know. For those of you who haven’t, it’s time again for Outdoors in the Sun. That’s right, over the next six months I’ll be bringing topics related to our great outdoors into your homes and offices.
These include stories from the kitchen full of recipes, tales of trips to the duck hides, memories of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas, informative articles about our flora and fauna and much more, all in written form for your enjoyment.
Can you tell that the most wonderful time of the year, at least in my opinion, is upon us? I knew we were nearing the end as I put the finishing touches on the pear jam, listening for the “pop” of each lid to indicate the perfect seal. They are stacked neatly on the pantry shelves, waiting for the cookies and ham. I long for the first morning when I can see my breath wafting in the wind along with the steam from my coffee. It won’t be long before I hear the faint call of migrating snow geese overhead. I’m ready to pull up the collar of my jacket when the north wind sends a chill down my neck. Campfires with good friends where no words are spoken will stay in my memory. Orion will cast a subtle light on the dark antlers of an ancient buck preparing for the upcoming rut. In a few months, mallards will arrive in the Delta with arched wings. I can only hope that the number of migratory waterfowl increases and that the hatch was successful this summer. There will also be an article on what the avid duck hunting hunter can expect.
Football, in all its glory, is also upon us. Like the opening of hunting season, there will be hugs and handshakes, as many of us haven’t seen each other since last season ended and the final kickoff. What a reunion it will be. Are you ready for the Jeeps to get stuck in the mud? How many of you will be taking new hunters out into the field for their first season? Be sure to take photos of your granddaughter’s first dove or your son’s first squirrel. Capture all the details so the stories can be told around the fireside and the Christmas table for generations to come. Ahh, these stories will indeed be remembered for decades.
First of all, I want to thank you in advance for letting me into your dens and firesides to share with you what is so dear to my heart. Remember, I am always looking for topics that might be of interest to you and our readers. If you think of anything, I would love to hear from you. Now sit back and relax, and take a few minutes each week to leave our chaotic lives behind and unwind. Welcome back, it’s going to be a good year. Until next time, enjoy our forests and waters and remember, we leave them better than we found them.
