Go afield with a good attitude, with
respect for the wildlife you hunt and for the forest and fields in
which you walk. Immerse yourself in the outdoor experience. It
will cleanse your soul and make you a better person. -Fred Bear
Fred Bear has always been one of my
favorite outdoorsmen, perhaps because of his reserved and respectful
character about hunting. He was a childhood idol and I pulled back
many a Fred Bear recurve during my early years bowhunting. That was a
long time ago and recurves have been replaced by high tech compounds and
carbon arrows, none of which make the “outdoor experience”
any better-in fact, those modern “advances” really don't matter.
Sure, better equipment, bows, guns,
ammo, fishing gear and alike can make our sports more successful-if
measured in harvested game. I think the older I get, that measure of
success has changed-no, it surely has, because that theme has found
it's way onto these pages more than a few times. Part of it is
time-in my younger days it seemed time moved ever so casually and it
was unlimited. Now in my mid fifties, there seems to be an urgency,
that every second spent in the “forest and field “ as Bear
speaks to, is precious...as it should be. There are only a finite
number of minutes left for me out there.
Thoughts of years left on this planet
were not filling my head the other day as I walked back to the truck,
lab trotting alongside, double barrel broke and cradled in the crook
of my arm. The day's hunt over. The game pouch was weightless. The
last few minutes of daylight streamed through the trees far across a
prairie valley-switchgrass and tall Big Blue Stem filling the fields
in amber. Molly had done her job. I was satisfied in her
performance, nailing down a couple rooster pheasant, her tail
whipping violently each time she closed the gap on a bird. I could
just waltz along following her zig zagging course through the grass
and brush. The pheasant did well too-managing to put a tree or two
between themselves and my shotgun leaving me with an empty vest and
disappointed dog-retrieving is half the fun. Molly would drive back
and forth searching out what should be a dead bird, and I felt
disappointed for her I didn't connect. But that's how these things
go and luckily her memory is short-there are always more birds to
seek out and smells to smell.
“It will cleanse your soul and
make you a better person.” That
was more the thought as I fiddled with the two 20 gauge shells in my
hand, then slipped the brass bell off Molly's collar. She happily
jumped in the truck-perhaps thinking we were off to another hunting
spot or at least to be rewarded with a treat. Two days earlier, at
this same field and covering much of the same ground, I'd connected
on a nice big colorful rooster. Molly raced to collect the still
lively pheasant as it tried to make an escape, but the proud lab
would have none of it and returned the bird to my hand. That hunt
was much the same-beautiful fall evening, cool temps, the dog getting
birdy a few times and a quiet walk back enjoying the sunset warm the
colors in the west sky.
“A bird in the Hand....” as
they say, was the only difference. Yet, it didn't really make that
day any more successful or satisfying. It would provide a good meal
at some point and I was thankful to bring back some game, but really,
that wasn't the point of being out there. Two hunts, two days, same
outcome as far as what is really important and the reason I needed to
spend a few minutes afield. Bear's quote, to me, really lands
squarely on everything I believe when I lace up some boots, slide the
gun into a case and step out the door. It's not about limits being
reached or perfect shots, but rather it's about cleansing that soul
and making me a better, happier person.
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