I think we prefer not to talk about these kinds of events because it could taint our credibility as predators.
I come to the facts.
Last night, first archery outing of the season with my father, I returned to my hunting territory after 1 year of exile and a season without hunting. Diligent training and 3D courses all year round. I was waiting for this opening, after drinking in stories and hunting planning. Yesterday we were ready, we stationed ourselves relatively early a few hundred meters from each other. Everyone has their own field, a promising area, my father having seen traffic recently and a water point in the undergrowth makes it the ideal place to start the season well. 2 hours waiting for the sunset sitting on the edge of the field, convinced and attentive I scrutinize the slightest movement and the slightest noise. I analyze the shapes that might fail me when darkness comes. We have arrived there, the long-awaited twilight. I hear something break 50m in front of me, I prepare myself but it is almost dark, my vision is failing and I feel that the moment of verdict is here. This unidentified game is slow to come out, I'm getting impatient.
I turn my head, and I see a hare in the middle of the field, 30m away. I analyze it, I have a doubt, I tell myself that I didn't hear anything, but from experience it has already happened to me several times to turn my head for 10 seconds and see the hares appear at dusk . I am not sure at all and as if to remove this doubt I see him tapping his paw, convinced that it is now or never as the King would say, I cock my bow and I shoot my first arrow. It passes a few centimeters, he doesn't move, I say to myself the bastard he's taunting me, I shoot a second one quite nervously I miss it completely and as if caught in a whirlwind of chess I release my third and final arrow. I will see the result, I had targeted a plant…
Aware of the laughable nature of the situation and my lack of composure, I return to the car where my father is waiting for me, telling him about my failure.
At home we call it Fata Morgana or quite simply a mirage.
I allowed myself to be overwhelmed by the proud impulse to collect. But I'm not beating myself up, it makes me laugh softly, it takes such shitty anecdotes, but I still wondered if I had the maturity necessary for a bow hunter.
And have you guys already given in to mirages?
Topic: Fata Morgana (Read 1072 times)
