butchlambert
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Wyman posted this a little while ago. Some of you have seen my old 722 that I purchased from Mike Walker.
This morning dawned chilly at 27 degrees accompanied by a slight north wind. A sprinkle of rain fell as the norther hit last night at about dark thirty and was cause for a frosty morning with an icy crust on the ground.
Since my stent in 2016 I am rather forced to veer away from a diet frequented with beef but can have venison instead. Thus each winter I’m obligated to take at least a couple or three whitetails to carry Sylinda and me through until the next season.
So with some excellent conditions conducive to rattling up a buck, I did go out this morning to make a go at it although to no avail. But that’s ok with me. I was outside and being a part of this magnificent land in a vibrant season of the year when early morning light is at its finest and voices from the sky is reminiscent of earlier times as a young boy, being mesmerized by the flocks of geese and sandhill crane in their flights to fields and water sources scattered over this big ranch country.
I guess one could say I’m a romantic in my love affair with the land and the creatures that define this region I call home. And too, my eccentricity includes an appreciation for all that is traditional, which includes feeling a fine rifle in my hands that speaks of another time in our history of the outdoors and those old time sportsmen and women whose journalistic prowess kept me transfixed as a boy. So this morning I was happy, whether I bagged my quarry or not. I had a set of rattling horns almost a half century old and carrying a rifle that was manufactured before I was born. I was in my element and for that I was thankful.
Hope everyone experiences such simple pleasures.
This morning dawned chilly at 27 degrees accompanied by a slight north wind. A sprinkle of rain fell as the norther hit last night at about dark thirty and was cause for a frosty morning with an icy crust on the ground.
Since my stent in 2016 I am rather forced to veer away from a diet frequented with beef but can have venison instead. Thus each winter I’m obligated to take at least a couple or three whitetails to carry Sylinda and me through until the next season.
So with some excellent conditions conducive to rattling up a buck, I did go out this morning to make a go at it although to no avail. But that’s ok with me. I was outside and being a part of this magnificent land in a vibrant season of the year when early morning light is at its finest and voices from the sky is reminiscent of earlier times as a young boy, being mesmerized by the flocks of geese and sandhill crane in their flights to fields and water sources scattered over this big ranch country.
I guess one could say I’m a romantic in my love affair with the land and the creatures that define this region I call home. And too, my eccentricity includes an appreciation for all that is traditional, which includes feeling a fine rifle in my hands that speaks of another time in our history of the outdoors and those old time sportsmen and women whose journalistic prowess kept me transfixed as a boy. So this morning I was happy, whether I bagged my quarry or not. I had a set of rattling horns almost a half century old and carrying a rifle that was manufactured before I was born. I was in my element and for that I was thankful.
Hope everyone experiences such simple pleasures.
