The woods have been good to me this year. I've been able to spend the last couple of hours of daylight on my deer lease in Northwest Louisiana for most of the season. The peace and quiet and the delightful animals have anchored me in a turbulent and changing world. I often nap comfortably in the assorted old office chairs, vehicle seats, and theatre seats in the various parcels with inviting views and features. A far cry from the first nervous night I spent peeking under the back yard scout tent flap, longing for daylight, with my buddy, Clay Vise. Clay wore a butch buzz cut and kept a runny nose. He wore cut-off jeans and had perpetual skinned knees and stubbed toes, just like me. We caught crawfish and mud puppies, built leaf forts in the fall and returned to the trees. But that night, the east sky wouldn't brighten up fast enough for me and half of me wanted to run three houses down to my familiar bed. I'm glad I stuck it out.1
When I was thirteen my father took his three sons on a hunting adventure somewhere to the east. We slept under an army blanket lean to and ate canned beans and squirrel Dad killed waiting for deer. I wandered the logging roads with a .410 shot gun and never fired a shot. A camouflaged hunter with a scoped bolt action rifle dragged a magnificent buck out of the woods close by and called me over to assist with the field dressing. The zipping knife, bright colors and pungent smells shocked and nauseated me and half of me wanted to run away. The gentleman thanked me for my help and I staggered off, my insides roiling. When I was sure he couldn't hear me I fell to my knees and retched everything up. I lay with my cheek on the cool dirt and longed for the comfort of home or even the army blanket lean to. 2
At seventeen, I slept under a plastic sheet draped over a picnic table while it rained on Mark Pomeroy and me as we backpacked in the grand canyon. The essentials weighed forty pounds and rain? It only rains ten inches a year there. We got three. Half of me cursed the rain and the sore muscles, but it was well worth the treasures of true silence and the majesty of rocky depths almost beyond comprehension. The most simple foods sated like no other time. Gathering figs near Bright Angel Creek for something sweet at dusk, I noticed a doe with the same intentions. I could reach higher and climb. I began with tosses, slow and deliberate, shortening the distance each time. She ate from my hand...One of my lifetime achievements.3
At my father's eightieth birthday, four generations of family gathered in the state park at Broken Bow Oklahoma to honor that grand old man. The caretaker put out treats for the local deer and it was a treat for all of us to watch them on the edges of the field. At dusk, armed with a dozen apples, I chomped noisily and slowly closed the distance to the closest doe. Throwing apple cores and bites, she moved closer. In my peripheral vision, I could see cousins and siblings slow and stop to watch magic happening. Two young nieces came out of the dining hall and squealed, "Look! A deer!" and ran over, spooking my dining partner and the whole herd. Half of me wanted to scold, but all I said was, Aren't they beautiful?"4
The persimmons, acorns, apples, and corn I bring to the woods attract colorful birds, skittish squirrels, fuzzy foxes and (rarely) deer. They eat their fill; knowing when I'm around. I like to think I keep them on their toes. Wednesday before Thanksgiving, The setting sun set fire to the maroons and lemon pumpkin golds of the maples and white oak hillside. My breath came in gasps. I was In the pulpit of the most beautiful cathedral in the world...5
Too many people think hunting is about killing... The quiet times heal me; It is here I become comfortable in my own skin, order my thoughts, bask in my memories. 6
Daddy bought forty acres in the Ozarks of Arkansas near Leslie with an eye toward retirement. It turned out to be too far away for that. None of it was flat. It actually became concave in places where the valleys steepened past vertical. He would brag that he actually had 45 acres if you counted the surface area! Our first visit, we made it around the perimeter with ropes, a compass and a rifle to chip marks on the boulders along the line. We set up our tent near the top of the mountain in the dusk and ate from the campfire. Even though exhausted we talked late into the darkness, two disembodied voices. A gentle light rain pattered and bathed our tent, just above our blind faces. I don't remember what we said during that time of ethereal scent, touch and sound. I know we mourned our joint loss; my mother, his wife had died two years earlier. I wish I could remember what was said... I know it was good. Maybe it was the half of me that was her that communed with him in the darkness, one last time. I'll never forget exactly how it felt.7
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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I enjoyed this
the vivid images and my favorite part was reading of your dads 80th
I puked up the first time i had to dress a sheep
I think I was 12
The ending was beautiful -
What a lovely story. Each stage of your life spent getting closer to understanding nature and your own development. Such a beautiful memory of time spent in close companionship with your Dad. Feeling your own oneness with your Mother, priceless moments worth more than gold. A privilege to read.
Sheila
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You have the soul of a horse whisper you are partially doing it here.You live in my world just in another place. I think you are much better with people than I am though=) This is honest and beautiful poetry you shine my friend in your writing I find peace.
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I never said thank you for this comment. Wish you well.
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Beautiful yesterday
This is magnificinet penning, so precious in its beautiful reminder of what it was like in our yesteryears where our psyches were set with knwing how to love and what to love. These snapshots, important glimpses into what make a boy a man and what makes a man gentle. Love of land and all things is attached.
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This is much more tell than it is show, but it is still very well written. I have a good friend who writes a lot of hunting stories. His are on the pessimistic side, so this was a bit of a jolt for me
I was expecting a sad ending.
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Rugged and tender; a slow casual ramble through your past. Nicely done!
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the story is a profound piece... something from a veteran i might call it; you have used a beautiful correlation of words .. that each phrase throws up a meaning for me; it does not stop there. you have also told me the importance of touch... this is something very important for me... and the analysing of the two halves is a brilliant conclusion... you have thought deeply into what you want to write and i believe your story telling techniques reflect in many other ways. this piece reflects a vulnerable, thoughtful, focused person to me. best of luck for everything
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We rehab animals in my family. I have a tree service and what ever nests there I try to save if I can. I once ran over a red fox squirrel going home from work. I scooped him up with a shovel and drove home. The wife used a spatula to put him in a cardbord box and set him on the dryer in the laundry room. We could see bruising about the abdomen and he hardly moved but would drag himself into the window in the day and crawl into the box at night. I fed him off of a 12 inch stick and shared long knowing looks. The children were warned away... In two weeks he leaped out, ran around in circles untill I could open the back door where he sprinted across the deck and dissappeared into the woods...
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Ben, this is a very touching story about love, and the love of nature, which I don't think can be separated. I live in an area where the deer in the park, come out at dusk, to eat from the salt licks. I have had them in my back yard, so soft on the eye, so gentle to look at. Last year, there was a wounded deer, that had mae a bed for itself under a whte pine, and every night I would take it some food. Finally when it couldn't even walk two steps, I had to call the police to shoot it. I cried allthat day. It's eyes were so soft and sad. I know I did the right thing, as it was i so much pain, and I could no longer treat the infected wound. This poem reminds me of my love of all creatures of the forest, and made me ffeel so at peace. Thanks so much for recommending the read. Light nd love, Linda;f
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This really was a mesmerising story Ben, and on a par with 'rivers and tides' in its way. There are so many words and phrases I could pick out but, of course, I loved the last sentence best. 'The half of me that was her'. As a mother, that seemed particularly touching to me. xx debs
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Wow. I really like this. You described the forest so well. I'd applaud it, but I'm the contest holder. Great job!
-Arias' Son -
I remembered the maroon cathedral I talked to you about and added it.. Its a little longer now...
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Stunning
Ben. I was sorry to reach the end of this story of yours. It was a movie - a strong and good one. But I agree, I wouldn't like to hunt. I'd settle for the deer eating from my hand. And yes, I'm not a veggie - just a confused coward. xx debs -
captivating
you are a captivating writer, I love the tone and subject of this write. Thank you for inviting me and sharing this... Melisa
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Very good story dad. I still don't like to hunt
But i remember repelling in the ozarks. It is one of my more fond childhood memories. Thanks for reminding me. And i like stories about when you were a kid.
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"Even though exhausted we talked late into the darkness, two disembodied voices. A gentle light rain pattered and bathed our tent, just above our blind faces. I don't remember what we said during that time of ethereal scent, touch and sound. I know we mourned our joint loss; my mother, his wife had died two years earlier. I wish I could remember what was said... I know it was good. Maybe it was the half of me that was her that communed with him in the darkness, one last time." This is a beautifully poignant penning, Scribe...wonderful imagery, purest flow, powerful verbiage...Impressive writing, imparting many profound experiences in a very short span...You're a great storyteller, Ben~jammin...Good luck in the contest, my Friend...
Wanda
Edited on Feb 11, 7:57 p.m. because ''.
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