Restless Warmth

With just over 130 days left until I depart for Ontario I can't seem to get into the hunting mood. It's been in the 90's here and the air feels like your walking under water. So it goes with those of us who live for those special few fall and winter months of hunting season.

Lately I've been thinking more and more about minimizing my hunting days and maximizing my fishing days. As I grow older it seems to get just a little bit harder to get up and go if you know what I mean. Somewhere the hunt left me and the outfitters came into play. It's become so much easier for me to pay someone else to do the work. I don't enjoy it as much but such is life.

My thoughts lately have turned more to the old days than usual, I expect it has something to do with the passing of my Mother in March. Both of my parents are gone, the memories stay. Seems the old days are getting farther and farther away, and just as troublesome is that making new days doesn't seem much nearer.

I'll dedicate this post to those cold early mornings in Nebraska as we prepared for the days hunt. Regardless of species the anticipation was much the same. Can't wake up fast enough, can't get my hunting clothes on fast enough and can't get into the truck and out of the driveway soon enough. My father behind the wheel, shotgun by my side and the defroster just beginning to replace the dew on the windshield with a clear view. It was hard to bend my legs with long john's, sweat pants and blue jeans on. It was cool to wear your hooded sweatshirt under the insulated flannel shirt, with the hood hanging out of course, still is.

I don't remember doing much in the way of shopping for hunting clothes, blue jeans and sweat shirts did then what a billion dollar enterprise does today-sorry Cabela's. Funny thing-you can still spot hunters a mile away, regardless of camo pattern. I admit that there were days when I could have used some of the $10,000 worth of hunting clothes that I have today back then, but back then we needed the $10,000 more. Knitted stocking caps, leather gloves and with any luck wool socks, but usually-two pairs of sweat socks were the outfit of the day-made it easier to do chores when you got home.

I'll mark this day as the day it all began to change, I've been searching fishing guides/trips across the US. The Old Man metamorphous is beginning, I'm becoming a boat sitter! I can't say that I don't like the idea, I think there's a fish or two out there for me to talk a little bit about, nothing like a campfire story.

As for this year it's on to Ontario followed by Manitoba, a pair of very interesting Whitetail hunts and a good chance to put two more on the wall. For me it's more than the hunt, I have some friends joining me in Ontario-I'm looking forward to sharing the hunt with them. And then it's on to Manitoba with a camp that will house only three hunters for the week. I look forward to the solitude, some time to reflect I guess, to balance the past and settle with the future. Retirement isn't that far away now and the thought of spending my days on the water with reel in hand feel pretty good.

With the dreams of catching a big eyed Tuna rolling around in my head it will be but a smile on my face as I cast just one more time for that big Crappie behind the log.

And so it is, the fall thoughts of a hunter at heart in the restless warmth of June.