I had to write an essay for my English class. The assignment was to write about our favorite place. In our essay we could not tell how we felt, we had to show it, and in showing our feelings, we had to associate at least 3 of the 5 senses.(taste, feel, sound, smell, sight) Since my college is a liberal arts school, I tried to keep the actual "hunting" very light.
I had so much fun writing it, that I thought I would share it.
Let me know what you think!
My favorite place: 20 feet up a tree.
Its November. The leaves have changed from a spring green, to shimmering hues of red, yellow… even orange. It almost appears as if the whole forest is on fire. To any normal person it is fall. To a hunter, its what he’s been waiting for.
My breath forms a cloud in the cold air as I sit perched in a tree, waiting on the woods to wake. Being in the middle of the woods, 20 feet up a tree, before it is even daylight, is not for the faint of heart, but for the hunter its a normality.
Up above, a squirrel breaks the silence with good morning chatters. 20 feet below, his mate digs for acorns in preparation for the long winter ahead. The air is as fresh and crisp as the pages of a new book, and the life around me is as interesting as any story. I delve deeper and deeper, getting lost as I would in a good book, until I am a part of nature. I am no longer just a person invading the woods. I am now part of the story.
The breeze picks up, and on it, you can almost smell winter. The animals smell it too, because there goes the little squirrel, scurrying to find another acorn. He knows whats coming, and he wants to be ready.
All of a sudden another movement catches my eye. A raccoon. Like the squirrel, he is also looking for acorns. The pages of my book start flowing as life continues to happen all around me. Im afraid if I breathe, POOF they will be gone. I cant believe I can blend into nature so well that I have disrupted absolutely nothing.
Up above a buzzard floats lazily in the sky, looking for an easy meal. Below, on a fallen log, a packrat scurries by with a tuft of grass he collected for his nest.
Suddenly, I hear the tell-tale sound of a deer walking. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I start to shake as the adrenaline begins filling my veins, for this is the very reason I am here. My palms start sweating, my breathing becomes shaky.
There! The movement of a leg. Oh! A patch of fur! His antlers, wet with the morning dew, glisten like crystals. His winter coat seems to glow! As he slips out of the thick undergrowth, he pauses. The deer is unaware of my presence, but he’s no fool. He didn’t get old by being stupid. As he slowly scans the entire area, my heart pumps so loud it seems in my ears as a jackhammer, banging away on concrete.
Cautiously, he scans the area, looking for any signs of danger. Soon, hunger overcomes caution, because like the other animals, he has smelled winter. As he gingerly picks an acorn off the ground, I can hear it pop between his jaws. Content that all is well, he begins to eat.
This is my time. Now is when I must disrupt the smooth flow of this book, for I am a hunter. All of my preparing and waiting has been for this moment.
The buck continues to gorge on acorns, unaware of the danger 20 feet above him. My bow is drawn, like a snake prepared to strike. I am focused only on this moment. A quick snap of the bow limbs, a short whistling flight of a feathered shaft, and my book is finished.
I stop to give thanks to the Creator for the opportunity to harvest such a majestic animal. Then I just sit and admire him. As I run my hands through his thick winter coat, I can feel many scars on his skin from battles with other bucks. He was a warrior.
As I leave the woods, I am happy. I have fulfilled my task, but in the back of my mind, I cant wait until I can get back to my favorite place, 20 feet up a tree.
I had so much fun writing it, that I thought I would share it.
Let me know what you think!
My favorite place: 20 feet up a tree.
Its November. The leaves have changed from a spring green, to shimmering hues of red, yellow… even orange. It almost appears as if the whole forest is on fire. To any normal person it is fall. To a hunter, its what he’s been waiting for.
My breath forms a cloud in the cold air as I sit perched in a tree, waiting on the woods to wake. Being in the middle of the woods, 20 feet up a tree, before it is even daylight, is not for the faint of heart, but for the hunter its a normality.
Up above, a squirrel breaks the silence with good morning chatters. 20 feet below, his mate digs for acorns in preparation for the long winter ahead. The air is as fresh and crisp as the pages of a new book, and the life around me is as interesting as any story. I delve deeper and deeper, getting lost as I would in a good book, until I am a part of nature. I am no longer just a person invading the woods. I am now part of the story.
The breeze picks up, and on it, you can almost smell winter. The animals smell it too, because there goes the little squirrel, scurrying to find another acorn. He knows whats coming, and he wants to be ready.
All of a sudden another movement catches my eye. A raccoon. Like the squirrel, he is also looking for acorns. The pages of my book start flowing as life continues to happen all around me. Im afraid if I breathe, POOF they will be gone. I cant believe I can blend into nature so well that I have disrupted absolutely nothing.
Up above a buzzard floats lazily in the sky, looking for an easy meal. Below, on a fallen log, a packrat scurries by with a tuft of grass he collected for his nest.
Suddenly, I hear the tell-tale sound of a deer walking. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I start to shake as the adrenaline begins filling my veins, for this is the very reason I am here. My palms start sweating, my breathing becomes shaky.
There! The movement of a leg. Oh! A patch of fur! His antlers, wet with the morning dew, glisten like crystals. His winter coat seems to glow! As he slips out of the thick undergrowth, he pauses. The deer is unaware of my presence, but he’s no fool. He didn’t get old by being stupid. As he slowly scans the entire area, my heart pumps so loud it seems in my ears as a jackhammer, banging away on concrete.
Cautiously, he scans the area, looking for any signs of danger. Soon, hunger overcomes caution, because like the other animals, he has smelled winter. As he gingerly picks an acorn off the ground, I can hear it pop between his jaws. Content that all is well, he begins to eat.
This is my time. Now is when I must disrupt the smooth flow of this book, for I am a hunter. All of my preparing and waiting has been for this moment.
The buck continues to gorge on acorns, unaware of the danger 20 feet above him. My bow is drawn, like a snake prepared to strike. I am focused only on this moment. A quick snap of the bow limbs, a short whistling flight of a feathered shaft, and my book is finished.
I stop to give thanks to the Creator for the opportunity to harvest such a majestic animal. Then I just sit and admire him. As I run my hands through his thick winter coat, I can feel many scars on his skin from battles with other bucks. He was a warrior.
As I leave the woods, I am happy. I have fulfilled my task, but in the back of my mind, I cant wait until I can get back to my favorite place, 20 feet up a tree.
