Saturday, October 22, 2011

Oh, A-Hunting They Will Go

Lew, Donnie and Carson, bow season October 2011


Hunting in the woods, per se, is not an activity that I choose to partake.  If it’s hunting for a great pair of shoes in a unique boutique, or wading through a flea market or yard sale for a really great piece of discarded furniture to refinish, well, then, that’s my kind of hunting.  However, I do recognize and appreciate the deep-rooted connection to the past and nature that the act of hunting evokes for those who do.  Lew, my husband, is one such soul.

Once, we were a hunter-gather society. Today, we rely on a commercially raised and grown food supply.  For many in this country, this dependence is a necessity. 

For Lew, hunting season is not only a time to “hunt & gather” and be less dependent, it is also a time to step into the woods: to observe nature and the land; to center himself in quiet solitude, and to practice patience. And, if providence allows, he’ll return with a deer or turkey for our freezer.

Years ago, Lew and our youngest son, Max (who had just taken the Hunter Safety course and got his hunting license), went out hunting in the back part of our property.  They set out early and were settled into their tree stand before the sun began to rise and the critters had wakened.  As they sat quietly and patiently waiting for the day to break, a squirrel, whose nest was a few feet above them, began to drop the shell of an acorn that he was eating —unaware that they were below.  They tried not to laugh, but when you’re sitting in a tree with  a surprised squirrel and a young boy, it’s pretty hard not to laugh.

Someday, I’ll venture out with Lew and sit in the tree stand with him as daybreaks—not to “shoot” anything with a bow & arrow or rifle, but with my camera. If I’m lucky, I’ll get a great shot of an acorn-munching squirrel or the family of bobcats that have been spotted. Or, I’ll just sit quietly and reflect on the beauty of the woods and think about what I’ll cook for dinner…albeit, it may have a bar code as I refuse to eat the deer or turkey that he shoots.  Sorry Lew, I’m just not the squaw you once imagined you’d marry!


*Squirrel photo downloaded from Microsoft images

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Surprise Visitor

Imagine my surprise when I pulled back the drapes of the sliding glass door on the first morning I was at the Cape this past August (the week after Hurricane Irene) and this guy was sitting there, having a very Zen-like moment!  At first I wasn't sure what it was, but, as my eyes adjusted, it quickly dawned on me that it was indeed a fox.  He was not alone.  His companion joined him within a few minutes and they each sat and observed the early morning awakenings as I watched them. I watched thinking that this was a truly unique experience, took some pictures and wondered how long they'd be out there (and where their den was...).  After a bit, a Great Blue Heron swooped in and landed on the jetty just beyond the seawall and they perked up.  Off they went, but they did not bother the heron.  It was the only time I saw them that week.  Lucky me!

Welcome!

Thank you for visiting this blogspot!  It's a work-in-progress and I look forward to sharing many interesting stories, pictures and events with you here.  Please feel free to share this site with your family, friends and community members. Please check back from time-to-time and feel free to leave your comments and suggestions.  


And, you can always see what's on my mind by visiting www.berkshirehomestyle.com ***.  I write a monthly column called "Of Interest" that connects the theme of the current issue with the people, places and events in our region/community.  This month (the October issue) I featured Schoharie County, NY and their rebuilding efforts in the aftermath of Hurricane Irene.


-jswrites


***As of May 2012, I am no longer with this publication. However, it is possible to access my archived "Of Interest" work on their website. You can also read my archived articles that were published in Vermont Woman Magazinewww.vermontwoman.com