Here in the western part of this gorgeous country, the fall season is inevitably shrouded in an orange tinted haze of smoke. The sun is faded and easy to look at in it’s ruddy glory. The smell that looms is, for me, a good one…bringing with it memories of each fall before it. Fall is my favorite season. Not only because it is hunting season but there is just something reviving about how it smells when after many sweltering days and nights of summer end, the crunchy dry grass gets bathed in cool crisp air. The dry leaves break off easily and stick to your boots with the wetness of the dew acting like glue. It is impossible to be silent with all the undergrowth toasted to perfection but it becomes an asset when your sitting silent in a draw and can hear the wildlife crunching their way along the game trails. To me these scenes and the subtle, tiny details that present themselves, as if for our enjoyment, if we will only quiet ourselves and partake of them are the essence of why I am out there. No game is necessary for my hunt to be a success. If I can step outside my busy mind long enough to drink in the soul quenching beauty around me and wonder at a world much bigger and greater than me then I have gained what I was seeking and can go home fulfilled. Perhaps the next hunt will produce tangible success but the intangible may actually be the longer lasting and more satisfying trophy of them all.

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