I have a week off from grad classes, affording me the luxury of reading something for myself for a change. This was my first foray into E.O. Wilson and I’m quite impressed. He articulates things I’ve intuited for some time and his background in entomology and ant behavior is an interestingly fitting backdrop to any conversation on social behavior. I read it in a mere two sessions while on an overnight with my son and a friend of his. Teenagers are nice; the boys took care of themselves while I broke off to read.
Sitting streamside by candlelight, equipped with a down poncho, pad, and backpacking chair, I was prepared for some serious backcountry leisure. Rocking back and staring at the stars while pondering a paragraph, there couldn’t have been a better setting.
I finished the final pages in my sleeping bag with coffee before the kids were up. A proper stretch of reading indeed.
My last day of hunting was over before it began. Not even 0430 and there were already 5 trucks parked at my spot, at least four hunters headed in by headlamp. They could’ve been going in many different directions, but combined with the occupants of the other trucks, it was safe to believe this spot was bust. Between the holiday weekend and the last days of deer season, the forest was overrun. Things were beginning to look complicated. I was content to let it go.
I found a ridge and this sunrise instead.
Rifled cleaned, oiled, and locked away. I’ve now got ten months to think about what I was intending to do out there and why.
I look forward to these ruminations over a fire at my hermitage, unarmed and at ease. Time to let it rest, for both man and deer.
Another sunrise, moon sinking, the wind impossibly sharp and clean.
Fresh tracks but no blood on my hands, the deer nowhere to be seen.