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Now let me share a hunting story…
Where we hunt in northern Minnesota, deer have been sparse the past few years. Some recent bad winters get most of the official blame. Canine tracks and scat along our hunting trails offer evidence of that which is more the culprit according to locals. Regardless, wolves and snow don't negate the impact of quiet hours alone in the late autumn forest.
Starting at pre-dawn in one east-facing stand this past Saturday, the ever-so-gradual sunrise revealed the aspen saplings to my left, a small meadow at my 11 o’clock position, the tall yellow grass far ahead at the distant creek bed, and then thick pines to my right.
view from Saturday morning
The slowly brightening spotlight highlighted the setting's star performers: some grouse strutting below, blue jays soaring from tree to tree, and a large red squirrel running up the balsam I happened to be perched upon 12 feet up. Looking down to my left, I watched the squirrel shuffle halfway up the tree when it stopped and locked eyes with mine. It seemed more confused than startled and remained in the tree for another minute, including along one branch just a few feet from my face.
When not entertained by nature’s creatures, I use that physical space to appreciate the accompanying spiritual space afforded by the duration of a typical sit. It's difficult to describe this space—that which is as much defined by what it lacks as what it features. It's also difficult to conceive in this short reading that which is cumulatively experienced over several minutes or even some hours. Let's just say I enjoyed very much arriving to this space—perhaps especially as a contrast to the busy, even frantic, experience of life weighed with an ever-replenishing list of to-dos.
Plus, when that deer does come out, another contrast presents itself!
If not suddenly spotted, the animal is first heard. Firm steps upon the dry leaves crunch at a pace placing a deer in one's imagination. Primed and prepped from my calm nature-synced state synced, ample attention and perception resources now home in on this potential target. For this is not just a deer—seen often along the road passing by farms and even in the suburbs. (See my recent amusing video about a large buck I just saw.) This is about attaining the fulfillment of this whole endeavor. This hunt. The audio evidence of a coming deer quickens the heart rate, with body temperature rising. Energy expends the resources to focus on the imminent moment of action.
After a few seasons coming home without this fulfillment (yet no less enriched from my time in the forest), I'm pleased to report I brought home some venison this year.
Sunday morning was perfectly still, requiring a hunter to do the same lest he be heard. Even delicate hoof steps carry in such conditions. I heard this (and another) deer before he finally stepped out from behind some pines.
If you look closely in that center gap, to the right of that large aspen (poplar) tree,
you can see the buck on the ground.
I also like deer hunting because the goal is clearly defined, whereas life can be ambiguous.
It's on us, then, to create our own goals.
I've long envisioned The Periphery to be a community in addition to a media brand. With the 500 or so emails from my current list, this puts me halfway to my goal of 1000 subscribers/members congregated on my Substack. Please consider signing up there yourself and even sharing The Periphery with those you think would enjoy what I do.
Thanks and make it a terrific week, perhaps featuring a connection with nature in some way.
-Brandon