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Hunting is just an excuse to spend time in the great outdoors

roadtrippers.com

Sometimes I think hunters use hunting as an excuse to get into the fields and woods. If they said, “I think I’ll spend day after day out-of-doors,” many of their friends and family members would wonder exactly what goes on in the woods or fields. They might jump to incorrect conclusions just because they don’t understand how time in nature renews a soul.

The day after opening day of pheasant season reminded me of this. At our house that weekend promised grueling workdays for my husband.  He left early in the morning and didn’t show up again until after dark. The girls and I enjoyed hunting pheasants, but as rank amateurs, we needed someone with experience to join us. Because our resident expert was otherwise occupied, we entertained ourselves. 

This particular opening day had beautiful skies, wonderful temperatures, and just enough breeze to dry sweat, but not enough to create problems.  Now, a die-hard pheasant hunter would have prayed for a light skiff of snow and chilly temperatures to cause the birds to bunch. But, since I was not a die-hard pheasant hunter, I considered the day perfect. My daughter and I joined all those folks marching through field after field in search of game.

Not wanting to intrude on someone’s serious hunt, we followed the banks of Big Creek as it meandered away from the house. Though it had reached flood stage that August, it was flowing gently toward the Smoky Hill. However, signs of high water still clung to trees and shrubs on either side of the bank. I’d seen it raging and foaming after heavy rain, and it was interesting to see what the waters left behind as they receded.

Denuded limbs and branches, the bark stripped away by the torrents, rested high in the forks of larger trees. Their paleness stood out on such a bright day. It reminded me the first warm day of spring when folks shuck their winter duds for shorts and bathing suits at the lake to show off catfish belly colored flesh. Tendrils of grass and other plant matter twined in and out of the marooned limbs and logjams, looking like an insane tailor had made a bad attempt at mending.

Since it hadn’t rained for a while, the creek sparkled, revealing an underwater world I didn’t often see.  The moving current had shifted the light colored sands at the creek’s bottom until they look like dunes in the Mojave,Oklahoma, or Eastern Colorado. Upon further reflection, I decided they looked more like the layered hills bordering both the Smoky Hill and Saline Rivers.

Moving slowly in the current, trailing tree roots assumed a life of their own.  These thick and thin, short and long tendrils threaded their way along the sandy bottom, sucking nutrients from the water and anchoring trees to earth as surely as any darning job holds a patch to an old pair of britches. 

On the opposite creek bank where it had washed away in the last high water, I saw the lattice-work of tree root stitchery holding trees and bushes on that side in place.  In a few locations, the cottonwoods and hackberries held on by thin tendrils. The interlacing support system I couldn’t see added amazing strength to the few roots I could.  I felt like I had peeled back a layer of membrane to see the inner workings of an underground world.

Surprising white sand beaches and little islands punctuated the creek, making it look a little like a tropical paradise might. I enjoyed these oases where I could listen to slow moving water, birds, and the rustling of fallen leaves and dried grasses. A few hardy crickets played a tune or two to enhance to the autumn mood. With sun warming my skin, the hypnotic movement of the water with root tips swaying in it, and the relaxing natural sounds, I could’ve melted into the sand and stayed in that spot forever. My concerns eased, my pulse slowed, and my blood pressure dropped.  

I know why hunters head for the field every chance they get. They enjoy the sport, but I suspect they enjoy even more those moments when everything comes together in one place, where for just a moment nothing else exists in the world.  Humans and nature merge, and in that instant, unexplainable peace occurs. Sanctuary is not always found indoors..

Hunter or hiker, head for the prairies and woods. You won’t be sorry.