I would love to, but it would be February in New York. Aren't there some minefields like New Jersey and the like in between me and you? And you would hurl this frail female out upon the treacherous roads in such a heartless time of year?
Not only that, but fresh in my supervisor's mind is the memory of the turmoil that occurs every year in November, and the empty ache that takes forever to heal, the result of my three week absence as I pursue my soul in the hunting woods of the Virginia Alleghenies. I know she mourns during my quest.
No, I must stringently meter my time, as a miser pinches golden dust into the pan of his scale, as there are so many things in the budget and only so much time allotted me. I would have to give up ATAR, or Baltimore, or the opening salvos of the Season of the Chase which is the Columbus Day hunt, or perhaps the revelry of spring wildflowers and warblers, symbols of rebirth and the raw strength of new life returning to my huntlands over Memorial day.
Which marker of the seasons do I forgo, in order to risk death and arrest on the nations highways? No doubt, the comrades that I would meet and grow to love as brothers of the bow would well be worth the risks, and the experience of beagley rabbit hunting would give me thrills to raise the hairs on arms and neck for the rest of my metered days. I would fain fly on winged feet to New York, arriving Mercurylike to frolic in the field, like faeries in the light of the moon. But which outing do I forgo, Shawn?
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth."
Me being me, I just stood there and dreamed.
Killdeer
Topic: What Small Game head(s) will YOU be using this year? (Read 812 times)
