Getting Out There
So, I decided it was time. Pulled all my gear out of the shed. Man, some of it looked rough. My boots definitely seen better days, probably need replacing but they get the job done. Cleaned the rifle, made sure everything was in order. It's a ritual, you know? Gotta respect the process.
Packe.gnid up the truck the night before. Laid out my clothes. The weather forecast said cold, real cold for the morning. No surprise there. Set the alarm for some ungodly hour, felt like the middle of the night. Always hate that part, dragging myself outta bed when it's pitch black and freezing.
The Woods Don't Care
Got to the spot way before sunrise. Truck thermometer said it was colder than predicted. Figures. Grabbed my stuff, heavy pack, rifle, and started walking in. The woods are different in the dark. Quiet, but like, a loud quiet? Every twig snapping sounds like a gunshot. Found my usual area, a little clearing I know.
Set myself up. Found a decent tree to lean against, tried to get comfortable on the cold ground. Then the waiting started. And man, did I wait. Sun started coming up, beautiful colors through the trees, but still cold. The kind of cold that seeps right into your bones, you know? Doesn't matter how many layers you got on.
- Sat there for hours.
- Drank some lukewarm coffee from my thermos. Tasted like dirt, but it was warm.
- Saw a few squirrels chasing each other. That was about it for excitement.
My mind started wandering. Thinking about work stuff, bills, all the usual junk. Tried to push it out, focus on the woods, listen. That's the hard part sometimes, just being present. Your body's there, freezing, but your mind's a million miles away.
What Happened (or Didn't)
Nothing. That’s the honest truth of it this time. Saw zero deer. Heard something moving off in the distance once, maybe, but couldn't be sure. Stayed out 'til mid-morning, patience wearing thin. My backside was numb, fingers felt like ice blocks. Decided to call it.
Packed up slow. Felt kinda defeated, but also, strangely, okay with it. That’s hunting sometimes, right? It ain't always bagging the big one. Sometimes it's just about being out there, away from everything. The quiet, the cold, the effort. It’s real.
Walked back to the truck, loaded everything up. Started the engine, cranked the heat full blast. Felt amazing. Driving home, sun was up, world was awake. Felt like I'd lived a whole day already before most people even had their first coffee.
So yeah, no big trophy this time. Wasn't exactly a Karl Malone legendary hunt, more like a 'sat in the cold woods for hours' kinda trip. But I went, I did the thing. Sometimes just showing up and putting in the time is the point. Clears your head. Or freezes it clear, maybe. Already thinking about the next time, though. Gotta replace those boots first.
