ENTERING THE WOODS

On the off chance I have the morning off work and child free, I try to spend my time in the woods. I, once upon a time, lived feral in the woods for several years with nothing more than a set of ratty clothes, a hunting knife, and my survival skills. This life was bliss.

​Having only been accustomed to a life with the availability of a house, a toilet, and the luxury of wifi for about 5 years of my adult life, reverting to the freedom of nature is simple. Now I have access to hunting equipment, mosquito netting, and shoes-yes, shoes. This time of year, for I am writing this on Christmas Eve from the natural state of Arkansas, it is modern gun hunting season. What better way to spend Christmas than in nature?

The first step I take in preparing to enter the woods surrounding my house is layer myself with fleece and camoflauge. Mind you, I'm not engaging in a simple hunting trip. I have in mind more of an excursion, however, if I have the opportunity to bag myself some dinner then why the hell not? I am a bit unorthadox, nature is my religion. If Pan sends a deer or a squirrel my way, I don't pass up the chance.

With my Remington loaded and my canteen full, I lace up my boots and head out the door. Now, in my younger adult life I would not have had any of these amenities but it is a whole lot easier to take advantage of these items. My trusty old buck knife with it's wooden handle is remeniscent in it's scabbard on my hip.

The icy breeze hits my face and I'm glad I wore my hair down as my ears would quickly be frostbitten! Since my house is in the Ozarks, I don't have to venture far to begin to feel that tinge telling me this is where my soul belongs. Among the leafless oaks and the flourishing evergreens of winter my heart cries out. I am home.