It passes too quickly

It always passes too quickly.

When I parked my truck at dawn on the opening morning of bird season I was surprised to see a sage grouse sitting on a rise, silhouetted against the lightening sky. I took it as a good omen even though the bird flew as soon as I stepped out of the truck.

That seems a long time ago now and it has been nearly three months that I’ve been hunting this fall.

For the first six weeks I hunted the early mornings to beat the heat and avoid the snakes, sneaking Ace out to the truck in the dark while the puppy was still asleep.  

I’d sip coffee and listen to depressing news on the radio while I was driving. Once I stepped out of the truck, however, it was easy to change focus. The sad state of affairs elsewhere in the country took a back seat to the task at hand. A loaded shotgun, and an enthusiastic dog to follow required all my attention.

As did simply walking. It always takes me a few weeks to get up to speed following a summer of too much lethargy. By the end of December I can walk all day, but it takes a while to get there. Fortunately, Ace is a close-working dog, and by the time pheasant season opened and he was tracking running roosters, I could usually manage to stay within shooting range.

Giving it a bit of thought, I should change “usually” to “occasionally” or perhaps even “rarely,” the point being that I could keep up if I wanted to. Anyway, that’s what I tell myself.

Early in the season we only hunted where there was water, and this season that meant following a creek or hunting near a lake or pond. Until snow arrived the prairie was parched. I only hunted one morning when my boots even got wet. Most mornings they were covered with dust by the time we returned to the truck.

It’s been awhile now since I’ve seen dust. That snow in October moistened things up a bit, and the snow we got last week may be here until spring.

The general big game hunting season is nearing an end. Antelope and sage grouse are already closed. Upland bird season runs through Jan. 1, and I’ll get out as much as I can.

It all passes too quickly.

Parker Heinlein is at [email protected]