To All Of You

[Dutch]

Well said.

Good luck to everyone.

Im going to miss most (if not all) of this one.

 

[Nicodemus]

It Is​

It is the muffled thud of rubber boots in unison on a dampened, leaf covered logging road in the dark and the sound of the breathing of old friends before each ventures off on his own trail to discovery and adventure.

It is the riot of color as the forest celebrates Summer’s passing and the advent of Fall.

It is the sighing of the wind through the tops of pine trees on a new moon fall evening.

It is the rattle of the last fugitive leaves in the tops of the hardwoods against a cold north wind.

It is the feel of balanced blued steel and polished Walnut, connecting one to that ancient man that hefted the world’s first spear, and every brother hunter down through the ages.

It is the December moon on the leafless hardwood trunks, casting all the world into shades of silver, gray, and black by turn.

It is the mirth and laughter around the wood stove when old friends share the memories of times gone by, and hope for the days to come.

It is the Hunter’s Moon waxing high, announcing to the forest, Man’s time as predator has come.

It is the crackle of dry leaves as the lone squirrel shuffles across the forest floor on a still, windless late afternoon.

It is the laughter of water cascading across the rocks in the creek bottom on its’ way to the sea so far away.

It is the rosy glow of first light on the horizon trumpeting the coming of a new day, and the pastels of the evening sunset against cotton ball cumulus clouds, wishing all peace and farewell until the morrow.

It is young spikes cavorting and sparring under the White Oak.

It is the yip of the coyotes in the fields on a cool November evening.

It is Orion and the Big Dipper in a coal black Autumn sky.

It is the sound of pine boughs sliding over brushed cotton.

It is dawn on a winter morning, the leafless forest laid bare revealing life in sharp contrast.

It is the chatter and glee of darting children around the campfire.

It is fog, rising from the creek bottom below as day slowly loses sway and yields to night.

It is the solitude of the hours on stand, when time slows down so one can think, remember, reflect, and pray.

It is the echo of voices and dancing beams of light in the dark in search of downed prey.

It is the smile of the novice on his first success.

It is the gathering shadows at September’s days’ end.

It is the chill of the late fall wind under lead colored skies.

It is all these things, twisted and woven together, that form the slow deep rhythms of man’s oldest pursuit. I am drawn to them. They encircle my senses, capture my thoughts, and I am held thrall. I cannot resist, and willingly surrender.

Glad to see this post appear again, as it does every year. A Woody`s Campfire tradition. Thanks, Lee.

 

[Nicodemus]

Well said.

Good luck to everyone.

Im going to miss most (if not all) of this one.

Hope you can get out there at least a little bit, and get some meat in the freezer, Dutch. Here`s to fast healing.

 

[elfiii]

Glad to see this post appear again, as it does every year. A Woody`s Campfire tradition. Thanks, Lee.

God bless and the best of luck this year my friend.

 

[Jim Thompson]

As this new season is finally near about on us, I`d like to wish all ya`ll the best of luck. May we all stay safe, be mindful of our shots, and remember to show your respect of not only the game we seek, but also our fellow hunters. Hope all of you will experience the hunt of a lifetime, whether you kill a big buck, fat doe, spike, no matter. Enjoy all our wild places.

Appreciate you Nick!

Enjoy the ride no matter what it brings.

 

[sea trout]

Thanks! And best wishes to you and yours also!

And very well said!!
I believe the trophy's are in the moments of the beholder! I love this forum so I can read and see pictures of as much fun and success as possible!!
Good Luck GON FORUM!!!!

 

[Meriwether Mike]

Good luck to all who renew their predator instinct this Fall!

 

[ScLowCountry]

And please wear a harness. Already had a tree stand accident in the ED

 

[rugerfan]

As this new season is finally near about on us, I`d like to wish all ya`ll the best of luck. May we all stay safe, be mindful of our shots, and remember to show your respect of not only the game we seek, but also our fellow hunters. Hope all of you will experience the hunt of a lifetime, whether you kill a big buck, fat doe, spike, no matter. Enjoy all our wild places.

Good luck to you as well.

 

[Spotlite]

You too, Nic!!! Thanks!! Hope you kill the best one ever this year!

 

[OleHickory]

It Is​

It is the muffled thud of rubber boots in unison on a dampened, leaf covered logging road in the dark and the sound of the breathing of old friends before each ventures off on his own trail to discovery and adventure.

It is the riot of color as the forest celebrates Summer’s passing and the advent of Fall.

It is the sighing of the wind through the tops of pine trees on a new moon fall evening.

It is the rattle of the last fugitive leaves in the tops of the hardwoods against a cold north wind.

It is the feel of balanced blued steel and polished Walnut, connecting one to that ancient man that hefted the world’s first spear, and every brother hunter down through the ages.

It is the December moon on the leafless hardwood trunks, casting all the world into shades of silver, gray, and black by turn.

It is the mirth and laughter around the wood stove when old friends share the memories of times gone by, and hope for the days to come.

It is the Hunter’s Moon waxing high, announcing to the forest, Man’s time as predator has come.

It is the crackle of dry leaves as the lone squirrel shuffles across the forest floor on a still, windless late afternoon.

It is the laughter of water cascading across the rocks in the creek bottom on its’ way to the sea so far away.

It is the rosy glow of first light on the horizon trumpeting the coming of a new day, and the pastels of the evening sunset against cotton ball cumulus clouds, wishing all peace and farewell until the morrow.

It is young spikes cavorting and sparring under the White Oak.

It is the yip of the coyotes in the fields on a cool November evening.

It is Orion and the Big Dipper in a coal black Autumn sky.

It is the sound of pine boughs sliding over brushed cotton.

It is dawn on a winter morning, the leafless forest laid bare revealing life in sharp contrast.

It is the chatter and glee of darting children around the campfire.

It is fog, rising from the creek bottom below as day slowly loses sway and yields to night.

It is the solitude of the hours on stand, when time slows down so one can think, remember, reflect, and pray.

It is the echo of voices and dancing beams of light in the dark in search of downed prey.

It is the smile of the novice on his first success.

It is the gathering shadows at September’s days’ end.

It is the chill of the late fall wind under lead colored skies.

It is all these things, twisted and woven together, that form the slow deep rhythms of man’s oldest pursuit. I am drawn to them. They encircle my senses, capture my thoughts, and I am held thrall. I cannot resist, and willingly surrender.

I got on here this morning and actually had this post in my mind. I love this elfii and thank you for always sharing this with us.
I printed this out a few years back, and every year on opening morning I take it with me and I drive to my hunting spot and sit in my truck before I head into the woods, take this out and read it out loud. I read it slow and reflect on every word and it brings back precious memories in my life.
I am 32 years old and I hope to do this every year until my hunting days are over. Thank you sir.

 

[Lindseys Grandpa]

A tradition we are lucky to be able to continue and sometimes take for granted .