Honey lay down and fall fall fall11/26/2022 ![]() ![]() I would set up a couple little ‘pop up’ tents about this time of year, one for sleeping and one for my supplies and fish and hunt solo a couple days. I used to hunt a big ranch on the Brazos River below Possum Kindgom Lake. On many occasions, I’ve spent a couple days and night by myself on hunting or fishing trips and always feel renewed and refreshed after the experience. I believe that once one learns to become part of the outdoors, nature if you will, the need for couch sessions with counselors would probably drop drastically. I’m not sure the human psyche is designed to digest all that information. It’s easy to get caught up in today’s ‘rat race’ and sometimes unavoidable but those of us that are a bit long in the tooth lived in much simpler times, a period way before today’s instant communication and knowledge of everything, good and bad that occurs in the world almost the instant it happens. Looking back is great and provides a quiet and peaceful respite from the fast pace of today’s world. Not for monetary reasons but just to admire and reflect upon. ![]() What I would give to have possession of that old shotgun today. He had an old double barrel ten gauge shotgun with Damascus barrels hanging over his fireplace that he used to hunt deer in 1900 when he was just a boy. Doing a bit of ‘cyphering’, I calculated Poppa was born around 1885 and he spent his life in the outdoors as a rancher/hunter. I still remember setting around his homeplace in the woods in Waller County and listening to his stories of the ‘old days’. When I sit in a bow stand waiting for a buck or doe, my mind often back tracks to some of my hunts as a teenager, often in the woods north of Clarksville in Red River County where I spent my youth or sometimes down to southeast Texas when I hunted with Poppa Dinkins, who was 85 years old when I was 14. Well, after seventy years, my knees and endurance tells me I’m no longer young but I can still climb into a tree stand or throw a top-water plug for stripers and for that I am extremely thankful. But these days, just being there would be enough although I still get as excited about an upcoming deer hunt or fall fishing trip as I did when I was seventeen. A hunt was not successful unless I put meat on the game pole and ultimately in the skillet. ![]() Maybe it’s the ‘smell’ of fall, the sweet musky smell of dying leaves touched by a light frost or possibly it’s a combination of the many fall’s I been fortunate to experience over more than seventy years, at least sixty five of them in active pursuit of fish or game.Īs a boy, I was all about bagging game. Oh, there’s the beginning of all the hunting seasons when we have the opportunity to again spend time in the woods when they are aglow with colors, in pursuit of venison or squirrel meat.īut you know, I am positive I would be ‘out there’ even if I wasn’t hunting. ![]() There’s just something about fall that I look forward to each year. Regardless why the leaves change colors, my spirits always pick up a bit in early fall when I see those elm leaves begin to turn yellow and later, and then a few weeks later the hickories and sweetgum add their golden and red hues to the fall woods. While studying to become a Texas Master Naturalist several years ago, I remember asking our arborist (tree expert) exactly why the leaves of some trees (deciduous or broad leaf trees) change colors in the fall shorter days resulting in less sunlight was the easy answer. ![]()
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