The forest has changed, and so have I. Once swift-footed and sharp-eyed, now in my mid-sixties, I move through the woods with deliberate care rather than speed. What used to take minutes now takes hours. My joints ache a little more in the cold, and my hearing isn’t what it used to be. But what I lack in youth, I can now make up for in knowledge. Decades of hunting have given me an almost supernatural sense for the woods. I know where the deer are, where the turkey roost, and which woods hold the most squirrels. The woods now seem like an old friend to me that I am always happy to see.
I am a relic in a world that is quickly forgetting the old ways. Today’s hunters (especially the younger ones) hunt with high-tech gear, trail cams, and rifles that can shoot farther than my eyes can see. But they just don’t know…they don’t know what it’s like to be cold because we didn’t have moisture wicking base layers of clothing. They don’t remember 300-yard shots being long. They don’t remember walking steep hills and deep valleys because there were no side-by-sides. They don’t remember not having a heated shed to stand in.
I have always hunted not just for food but for the connection…a connection to the outdoors, to memories, and to a simpler time that now lives mostly in my old stories. Each hunt has now become more personal to me, more reflective. I enjoy the silent company of the forest, and I enjoy watching the wildlife. I enjoy being outside while it’s snowing and listening to the wind in the trees. I enjoy reflecting on the memories of past hunts with friends and family, and I especially like watching the sun rise and set. I also enjoy the slow ride home, often empty handed but always fulfilled and never disappointed. And nothing beats walking into a warm home to a family and supper on the table.
For me, the old way of hunting is gone. Gone are the days on White’s Ridge when we would get together for the first day of deer season. In reality, the hunt actually started weeks before as we all enjoyed “spotting” for deer. Next was the sighting-in of our guns and talking about past hunts. We would talk about who was going to stand where…even though we all knew where everyone was going. It seldom changed from year-to-year.
Even the hunting strategies have changed. We used to sit or still hunt in the morning and “drive” deer in the afternoon for all the hunters who still had tags to fill. The morning hunt was always successful for a few and the meat pole (an old swing set) was usually heavy with deer. However, oddly enough, my favorite memories of this time are not about the hunting. Instead, my mind takes me back to the gathering at Ann Mayhle’s kitchen for lunch after the morning hunt. This was usually standing room only as we had a large number of hunters in our party. I will always cherish the memories and smells of that old kitchen on the opening day of deer season. I’m so glad that my dad cared enough to included me on these hunts.
Don’t get me wrong, I still get excited about the possibility of seeing a big buck. But filling the tag just to fill it is not a part of my thought process any longer. I think I am a “true” hunter now, very select, and I have no problem watching a “decent” buck walk away. If he lives, he’ll be bigger next year.
Many things have changed since those early days of hunting for me. The old house where we gathered is gone and the meat pole has disappeared. Many of my closest hunting companions have long since passed away and what use to be a fire to hunt has how now become a glowing ember…an ember that still flares up when I see an antler.
For me now, as an aging hunter, my mind is still strong, and I can still recall the memories of past hunting seasons easily. “I remember when…” starts most sentences. This is comforting, but I know that nothing stays the same…it won’t last forever. But always remember…today is the day that someone in the future is longing to go back to. So, make the most of it!
Fortunately for us, like all things, life replenishes itself and we are able to make new memories. Much of my hunting and shooting enjoyment now centers around spending time with my son. And I too, now take advantage of the warm hunting sheds with friends and family…always keeping an eye out for deer. I pursue other things too like moments of stillness and echoes of my past self. Hunting, for me, is no longer about survival or trophies. It is about being part of something timeless. As the seasons pass and my steps grow slower, the forest remains my constant companion…wild, patient, and forever welcoming…just like an old friend.
