The Pilgrim

“Make sure you jump far enough so that you don’t land on those rocks”

“Oh yeah…Ok”

SMACK!

That was the sound my body made as it hit the water from forty feet up.  Subsequently, that was the same sound I expected to hear if I had hit the rocks.  The immediate thought in my head, “did I make it?”  That day I did.

It was 105 degrees out in the desert of Arizona on a party boat in Lake Havasu.  I had left the boat with four friends and a fun noodle and headed for the cliff that currently loomed overhead.  The idea: climb the cliff, jump off, laugh like hyenas, and swim back to the boat.

Flaw #1: A fun noodle is not a flotation device

Flaw #2:  We took advice from the stoner who said we could make it

Flaw #3:  I am deathly afraid of snakes and the hike up this cliff seems like the perfect place to be ambushed by a poisonous hell serpent

Flaw #4:  Being eighteen (challenge level + friends) / age = Level of Peer Pressure

My memory is hazy as to how many of my friends went before me as we all jumped from the cliff.  I know I was not the first, but as not to be shown up, I was not the last.  We all climbed the cliff, made it to the water, laughed like hyenas, and swam back to the boat. Success.  Today I claim this as a milestone in my life.  A landmark event that I could cross of a non-existent bucket list.  I have always taken pride in the fact that I overcame my fear of snakes, heights, and trust in a fun noodle that day.

So why now, eight years after the fact, do I have the nagging thought in my head; “you could have died, why the hell did you trust that stoner?”

A new exploration of trust has manifested itself not in the form of rock mountain, water, stoner, or lousy pool floatation device, but as a five foot five brunette mountain of which I so desperately want to reach the summit and stay forever.  To me, it’s the only and tallest mountain in the world.  And it’s not the challenge that draws me in, it’s the journey.

Mentally I am at the best place I have been in years, yet random stoner A popped into my mind last night as I welcomed sleep.  I was thinking about the brunette mountain and BAM!  Lake Havasu Stoner.  I thought, “What the hell?”  Thirty seconds later I was sleeping.  Cruel trick.

Here is my interpretation:

Why are we so app to trust often times untrustworthy people, things, and places we know so little about?  Yet, when we are presented with people, things, and places that are genuinely trustworthy, we question it.  We guard our hearts.  We get defensive.  It’s because we have trusted those untrustworthy people, things, and places that we get burned, therefore leading us to then question the next person’s intentions, be cautious of the next thing, and second guess being in a new place.

When it comes to second guessing, I am king.  The self-defeating analytical super freak who can’t often times trust himself let alone others.  I want to do the right thing, I make the rash decision.  I think decisions through to the end result so much that my minds’ slogan should be “got any dead horses, we can beat them for you!”  And then in the moment of uber-analysis, I make the wrong, or seemingly wrong choice.  I trust stoners, and fun noodles, and lots of times luck.  It seems that I am, as Kris Kristofferson original said of Johnny Cash in his song The Pilgrim, “A walking contradiction, partly truth, partly fiction.” 

How can I question some things so much, yet put so much blind faith in the people, things, and places that are so obviously wrong and risky in every sense? 

Trust.

How simple of a word to define and understand.  To an infant, it is that Mom and Dad will feed them.  To a dog it is that their master will be home to pet them at the end of the work day.  To a friend it is the unspoken bond that your buddy has your back or will bail you out of a tough situation.  To your spouse it is the mutual trust that can only be shared and experienced in that relationship.  To God, it’s everything you can give him.

We trust from infant to adult and we are still regressive in our ability to trust new people or new situations because we have been burned before.  A lot of times, this is probably a great defense mechanism, but it also requires the knowledge of when to let that guard down and to stop being defensive.  That alone takes A LOT of trust.  And an equal amount of proof.

To climb the brunette mountain, one would assume I would need to pack one hell of a lot of equipment.  At that point, will my baggage be too much for me to even have a shot at success?  At reaching the summit and staying forever?  Truth be told, I don’t know yet.

Here is what I do know.  The journey will be the best part.  To survive, I will have to prove that I am trustworthy.  I will have to recognize my flaws, my defensiveness, and my guard so that the opportunity for success if optimized.  The only equipment I will need is what I already have.  If I succeed, I succeed with what I got.  If I fail, same story.  I will not place blame on anyone.  I will I am thankful already.  It has taken years of fall down get up, get burned, make mistakes, fall down again, get back up agains to get here.  Every single example of good and bad has been a blessing although sometimes in disguise.  Every trusted person and stoner, everything and fun noodle, every cliff and every place all brought me to the base of this mountain.  I trust her.  I can already see every beautiful sunrise and sunset that the summit of this brunette mountain has to offer and I never want to miss one.

I am the Pilgrim on his sacred journey.

The Hunter

I set myself on fire
As the sun that starts the day
I shook the fog of slumber
As the rays that burn the haze

My first few steps were shaky
As a newly born fawn
I sensed my way through darkened halls
As the deer she creeps before dawn

I cleanse myself with water
As the duck cups his wings and gently lands
I dry and prepare to present myself
As the gobbler spreads his fan

I suit myself in nature's shades
As mother earth provides defenses
I mesh and blend and cover scent
As I hide body and intentions

I stride my feet that press a path
As the deer they scamper to feed
I trample tundra for a cause
As the land we live from we need

I climb the oak that gives its bounty
As squirrel and I hope to feed
Both our successes depend on structure
As we take haven in limbs and leaves

My nerves and patience they are steady
As the grouse perched on the limb
But they scatter and scurry with the crunch
As the rustling leaves flush him

I take in nature's beauty
As on a harvest it depends
Whether predator or prey, all the beasts
As for their life blood they learn to fend

The wind it whistles through the trees
As steam from breath does hang
I nestle in and soak it up
As from wilderness my senses pang

I breathe in deep and fill my lungs
As natures fragrances they singe
I indulge and gorge myself
As senses they do binge

I rough my hands on bark of tree
As midday sun melts frost away
The drops that caress the exposed skin
As Mother Nature's kiss of the day

I feast my eyes on working woods
As its inhabitants they rustle
I see necessity in effort for survival
As instinct makes them bustle

I clench down tight to fend off chill
As the sun she sets
I revel in the simple life
As life lived without regret

I decend from my oak home
As I fill my soul once more
I gather my belongings
As I bend, kiss my hand and touch natures floor

I trace my steps now in reverse
As careful not to disturb
I entered their home and watched them live
As I escape with most concern

I have burned out like the sun
As we rest for our next go round
One bringing and one ending life
On natures hallowed ground

"He said that sometimes hunting, ain't all about the kill"

Turkeys are one of the most plentiful game bird species native to PA.  In the past five years their numbers have skyrocketed as a result of successful species management.  Here is proof that some of the elected officials who have a say over laws that effect our environment and natural resources don't completely have their heads up their asses.

Anyway, that was just a remark if you feel that you will have some sort of mental problem killing a living thing.  I am not gonna lie, it does have an emotional impact.  On one hand you redevelop a connection to the primal roots of what is necessary to be a survivor but you also recognize on a higher level what it means to be human and capable of inflicting death.  For me, it establishes a sense of mortality and boundaries with the natural world. 

If you decide to go and you are successful you would most definitely get a high five from my direction but, don't think that the respect for the end of a life is not also present in my celebration.

So turkey hunting requires a very early morning.  You would need to be in the woods around 5 am to ensure the best chance of going undetected.  Turkeys are generally the first animal to wake.  I say generally because with wildlife there are so many variables.  They roost in trees and sleep there all night.  When they enter and leave roost it sounds like God is dropping bowling balls through the limbs of the trees.  If they are close, you will go through two movements.  The bowel movement and then the physical movement.  It will probably scare the shit out of you.

Turkeys have fantastic eyesight.  They are one of few animals that are able to process light so that they see practically all colors...hence my favorite color, CAMO.  I always have enough to go around.  I suggest hunting as a group that way you experience success or lack thereof together.  Although turkeys have great eyesight, their sense of smell is nearly non-existent and they do not hear the best.  They cover up the lack of hearing by traveling in groups and often times in close proximity to deer.  (deer have a great sense of hearing, sight, and smell. They are pretty much the Oracle of the woods)  This all means you could end up seeing ANYTHING! 

Based on the lack of good hearing, in windy and rainy weather turkey enter fields so that they can use their strong sense of sight to their advantage.  As weather changes, so does the hunters approach.  Be game for anything.  Hunting in the rain is generally a pain in the ass but sometimes it offers an opportunity for improved success because targeting your species becomes easier.  So you have to decide how dedicated you are willing to be.

Now onto BOOMSTICKS!  Turkey's are like the drunken uncle of the woods.  When you see them they are usually trying to start a fight with the other birds in their "family" or they are scratching up leaves making a ton of noise and just acting like assholes.  Subsequently, your feelings of sympathy when gunning one down may be comparable to your drunken uncle choking on a bone at Thanksgiving, getting burnt by birthday candles, or even cutting himself with his own pocket knife when trying to open a Christmas gift; you will laugh at first but you always kinda feel bad. That being said they are some tough S.O.B.'s.  Their feathers and bone structure are like armor.  I have witnessed birds getting shot and walking away.  For this purpose you must pack a punch.  A twelve gauge shotgun is the weapon of choice.  My turkey gun is cocked, locked, and ready to rock!  It is just as possible to kill a turkey with a twenty gauge shotgun of which I have used.  It has less gunpowder per shell and less BB's, but it also kicks less.  This basically equates to needing to be a better shot which, women usually are.  I have killed turkey with a bow so any gun has the potential.  If you wanna shoot the 12, more power to you.  I have seen ten year olds shoot them.  I just always think it’s good to start with something that you know you will be comfortable with and that won't dislocate your shoulder.

The truth is, this is only one side of the story.  This is the practical information.  The skill based; learned knowledge.  Anyone can get this information from any source or enough time in pursuit.  Millions of magazine articles, books, websites, and TV shows all address the “How To.”  This is important and deserves the attention it gets because it leads to the “Why.”  The time when the hunter enters the other realm.  This happens for every hunter on the planet, for if it did not, we would not pursue our sport.  There are no road signs, signals, or overall indicators of when you will enter, but anticipate it when the smoke clears.  When the arrow passes through.  When you approach the harvest.  Even when you have to dispatch it by hand.  Maybe when the picture is snapped.  Possibly if you shed a tear and wonder “what have I done?”  Could even be when you are on your knees with nature’s gift and the grass looks greener than ever, the dew soaks through the knees of your pants, when the wind cuts at your already stinging ears, and your breath hangs…as you say a prayer.  When the hammer on the gun of reality pounds down and you are hit.  The emotional journey begins.  The philosophical questioning takes place.  The purpose of the day is retooled and rediscovered.  You are now a hunter.  You will be married to the sport for you cannot have only a piece of it, or get it when you want it, or not always work towards it; you must take it all.  The dedication, the disappointment, the small victories, the missed opportunities, the trophy performances, the rainy days, the new equipment, or old faithful, the stories to share, the conservation of nature, the awareness of our senses, the thankfulness for life, the bittersweet sting of death, and the change it will inspire.

My words should echo as I first heard them…“He said that sometimes hunting, ain’t all about the kill”