I made my maiden voyage across the country when I was 13 and it was the first time I had ever seen the world outside the northeast. Back then I was almost unaware of where I was going or what I was doing. It seemed only natural that a family should want to explore the country they lived in. But now, just shy of 30 and having lived out west for nearly three years, I began this trip again, with a new perspective; the perspective of growing up in the east, traveling the west, and settling down in Oregon. The first time I crossed the country I saw many landscapes, people, and places, but on this trip, I “saw” the landscapes, people, and places. And they were beautiful.
My destination was New England, the unique region I called
home for the bulk of my early life. It was the place I lived and the place I
love. It’s where I met many great friends and went to university. It is a place
I will forever hold dear and returning after so many years was a little overwhelming,
but wonderful. Even now I smile thinking about it. Of course, as I sit here today
I find it hard not to write and reflect on the journey I took with a most sentimental
viewpoint, but I must focus, and remember that this is a hunting blog and that
if I care to write about my “journey”, I best find myself another outlet.
Sentiments aside, what I can reflect on is what was
constantly going through my mind as I made the crossing and that was the
incredible diversity of habitats that define our states. The myriad of wooded
pockets, wet meadows, dry grasslands, and massive hardwood forests that make
up this country are truly spectacular. To see each of them and imagine the
hunters that disappear into their clutches provided me with endless
entertainment throughout the trip. The places encouraged me to take photos, not
to be framed or heralded as some great landscape photographs, but rather to
remind me of what I had seen and where I had been.
When I entered Montana I thought of all the places you could
find (or lose) yourself; one moment you could be in the flats, grasses as far
as the eye could see. The next, running along a river bottom, looking at
perhaps some of the best fly fishing one could ever ask for. Moving up you
could find yourself in snow covered mountains chasing elk and then in an
instant, back down in rolling fields pushing you dog after sharp-tailed grouse.
The South Dakota grasslands spread a glowing yellow as far
as the eye could see. Minnesota’s cornfields and waterways had me dreaming of
mallards. Wisconsin wetlands and dense vegetation made me feel as if I were in
some exotic land and Pennsylvania immediately reminded me of why I love the
east so much with hardwoods on a goliath scale. New England (CT, RI, MA, VT,
NH, ME) was everything I remembered with the ocean breeze drifting into the
diverse forests.
As I returned west I crossed the Mississippi River, thinking
of all the men whose blood, sweat, and tears have made it what it is today.
Nebraska’s landscape had me dreaming of upland birds and Wyoming was almost
synonymous with antelope. Idaho’s canyons and sagebrush brought me back to what
I love and as I crested the hills into Oregon, the Elkhorn Mountains rose above
the clouds and reminded me of why I love living where I do today.
Driving across I kept thinking to myself, there is some guy
or gal out there that knows this particular spot like the back of their hand.
An area that others have sworn off as no good or worthless may likely be a
treasure for another. I imagine some old fellow laughing on his rocking chair,
smoking his pipe, and telling his grandchildren stories of the most mythical
kind. But he would not be exaggerating and his in depth of knowledge would soon
be passed down for generations to come; knowledge that only comes through years
of experience and countless days in the backwoods.
It is these unique landscapes that make the effort to
perfect your hunting abilities impossible. It’s like trying to find the pot of
gold at the end of a rainbow. You may often in your life be very close,
believing you know where the end is, but when you push forward the colors will
disappear and you will have to start again. Really, it’s what makes it all the
better.
As for the place we live, we keep pursuing that rainbow. We
keep working and working to get better and better and learn the landscape with
our eyes closed. I suppose that is one of the main reasons we all don’t like
moving so much. Perhaps it is simply for the fact that you get to know a place
and you get comfortable. You get to know the hills, the tree lines, the peaks.
You get to know the pockets of sagebrush, the best bunchgrass spots and when we
are forced to move we are forced to ponder how we will learn a new area. But
that is perhaps what makes hunting and this country so great. You can grow up
your whole life and hunt in a given region but by moving, you may be right back
on your ass at square one. However, using the skills and knowledge you have
acquired through the years you can put your mind and body to work again and
begin anew, discovering new places and new styles of hunting. Is there any
better or more fitting challenge for the most avid of hunters?
The challenges out there are many. We will never stop
growing and hunting, in the end, is all about growth. We learn to do this or
that, stop here or push by there. We learn to listen to the woods, read the
grass, feel the rivers. And we do these things so that we can progress as
hunters. So that when we do cross state lines to hunt we bring with us our most
sophisticated weapon, our brain. We walk into the new landscape and understand
that while we may be unsure of the physical challenges, we know that mentally,
we are ready for the test. We are ready to be challenged. We are ready to adapt.
Ready to grow.
No comments:
Post a Comment