I’ve been a hunter for most of my life. These days I’ve replaced my rifle with a camera but the basic skills are the same. If you sit still long enough they will come to you. But there’s a trick. You have to be able to become a part of the environment. Sitting in the woods with a camera isn’t enough. They can hear your heartbeat long before you can here their approaching footsteps. On a calm day they can smell you from hundreds of yards/meters away. If you don’t belong there they will know and stay away. Learning to belong to the wild places takes some time and practice but being at peace with creation is a very positive experience. Keeping your mouth closed and your ears open helps prevent them from smelling your breath. The birds will tell you where he is. As he walks towards you, the forest falls silent. Control your excitement. A racing heartbeat is a sure sign that you don’t belong. When he comes into sight he’ll snort and try to get a fresh scent of you. Be steady and move very slowly. His ears will twitch as he tries to pinpoint your heartbeat. Easy does it. Focus. Now, take the shot. He heard the shutter snap and he bounds off to be hunted again. Each time will be different but you’ll never lose the thrill of the hunt.
Tag: country life
Moon Shots And A Box of Memories..
In the 1970s my brother and I would watch science fiction reruns on VHF T.V. and the adventures of Saturday Afternoons included reliving those we observed in monochrome. Flash Gordon, Buck Rogers and a slough of guys in rubber suits. Space travel was still new and every time an astronaut was shot into space the world held it’s breath. For two brothers growing up in rural Appalachia virtual reality required a large empty box, some crayons and bits of whatever they could find. Was the moon really made of green cheese? There’s only one way to find out.
The two boys worked diligently. Because they were brothers they didn’t need to speak much. Each knew instinctively what the other needed. A piece of tape here and crayon there. Flashlights rested in cardboard holsters on their hips. If the enemies attack before they were done they would need their laser swords close at a hand. The last meteor shower had done a lot of damage to the ship. Repairs took a lot of time but doing it right was worth the effort. Being the better mathematician, the younger brother picked up a stick and double checked his calculations in the dirt. “I think we’re ready.” He said as the boys stepped back and admired their handiwork. The refrigerator box had everything a good spaceship needs. Empty two liter bottles for rocket boosters. Empty toilet paper tubes for death rays. And flexible hoses they found in the shed for miscellaneous systems. They were really ready for a moon landing. Fortunately, they were able to record some space sounds by placing a cassette tape recorder next to T.V. This would allow for more realistic experience. The young astronauts entered into the cardboard ship and took their places at the control panel. The older brother pushed play on the recorder. Three…Two…One.. We have liftoff!
The adventure never ends as long as you believe.
Born With A Purpose
I believe that we’re all born for a purpose. Each person on planet earth has a work that they were born to do. A fortunate few will find a way to earn living while living within their purpose but most of us will have to have a “second life”. No matter how it’s done living your purpose is like nothing else. It’s not like regular work where your constantly checking the clock. Instead it’s tranquility. The little honeybee in the feature image was living her purpose. Nothing else in her world existed except the flowers. She seemed to be in a state of total bliss as she moved from bloom to bloom collecting her pollen. She was an inspiration for me to take more time to live life a way that fulfills my purpose.
Battle Scars
In an ancient kingdom in a far away land the young recruits of the kings army gathered to meet the Man At Arms. It was his job to turn peasants into warriors. They were undisciplined . They wandered about the yard gawking at everything. They spoke in loud voices about irrelevant topics. They paid no attention to the surroundings. The Man At Arms raised his hand and gave a sign to the watchers on the castle walls. The drums began a loud tattoo and the heavy oaken doors opened slowly. A hush falls over the recruits. He doesn’t speak a word at first. The young men instinctively follow him inside where there in the torchlight hang rows of battered and cracked shields. The Man At Arms speaks. “This is the Hall Of Honor. The men who once held these shields did not turn and run. They stared in the face of our enemies and held their ground. They proved their worth in heat of battle and kept the kingdom.” The young men marveled at the condition of shields on the walls. Dented, broken, scarred and in ruin all except for one shield at the end of the hall. It would have been in perfect condition had not been for heavy Patina of oxidation. The plaque beneath the unused shield read, Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. He fought no battle and his armor did rust. The Man At Arms noticed one of the recruits reading the plaque. “This man was a coward and always avoided confrontation. Nobody remembers his name.
After publishing the picture of Tiny several days ago one my coworkers on my day job pointed out a second turtle making his way along the outside of the office. All I had at the moment was my cellphone but I decided to walk over take a snapshot. He was fairly big for an Eastern Box Turtle. However as you can see he’s been through the wringer. Because he’s missing an eye I decided to name him Popeye after the famous cartoon sailor. His shell has sustained quite a bit of damage that seems to have healed over. I can tell that some scars are older. This kind of damage means bird attacks. (Larger birds will try to peck through the shell . ) He didn’t try to hide when I got close and I almost think he was daring me to try and pick him up. It’s the first time I’ve ever actually worried about being bitten by a box turtle. Popeye has certainly won his place in the Hall Of Honor. He also taught me that even though a battle will leave you with scars; victory is possible. It’s going to happen eventually. Eventually we all get a battle scar here and there. Some of us are going to have quite a few. But the scar is evidence of surviving the battle. Means you’re gaining experience, wisdom and strength. As long as you don’t give up the fight you’ll earn your place of honor.
The Sacrifice Of A Friend
I have a fondness for the Corvus family. Today the crow and raven are associated with darkness and death but I want to share a different perspective.
The Leni Lenape tell the story of the Rainbow Crow. I have not been told the story from any tribal elders etc. In fact, I only learned the legend with the invention of the internet. So with no further ado here is story as I understand it…
The sun seem to sleep a lot over the past few years. The days were dim and short and the night was long, cold and dark. As the chieftain walked through the village the sadness of his people rested on his spirit like a heavy stone. He had tried everything. All of wisdom of his grandfathers, all of the prayers in his lodge and long lonely nights in forest seeking a vision that would tell him what to do. He couldn’t even sit at the council for the crying of the hungry children. He paused for a moment beneath a large spruce tree and began to sob. Then, he heard a rustling is the branches above. It was his friend the crow of many colors that had come to check on him. The crow was magnificent with feathers that shimmered with every hue in the rainbow. He loved the people and he loved the chieftain. The crow tried his best to cheer up his friend by singing in his most beautiful voice. It had always worked in past. The chieftain would smile and forget his troubles for little while. But tonight’s sadness the worst it had ever been. Moving down to a lower branch the crow opened his mouth and once more that beautiful melodic voice came out. “I have never not been able to make you smile my friend. What troubles your soul and how can I be a friend for you?” The chieftain took a breath and began to unload his burdens. He told the rainbow crow of the hungry children and the sickness of the old ones. “If the cold does not end soon my people will fade away forever. ” spoke the chieftain.
The rainbow crow knew in his heart what must be done. He would undertake a journey to the council of the creator and plead on behalf of the people. The journey was long and dangerous. The rainbow crow flew nonstop for many days and nights. When he found the creator he begged for him to end the winter and save the people he loved. The creator agreed and as a token gesture he gave a burning branch to the crow and instructed him to give fire to the people so that they could be warm again. The rainbow crow took the fire in his beak and made the long trip back to the chieftain and his people. He found the chieftain still sulking under the large tree. As he landed, the rainbow crow laid the fire at the chieftain’s feet. In his excitement at finding a way to save the people he tried to speak but the smoke from the fire had destroyed the crow’s beautiful voice and his magnificent feathers were singed black forever.
The chieftain was able to save the people he served as a result of rainbow crow and his sacrifice. So, always after the people would leave food out for the crow and he was always welcomed in the village.
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