I was a fox, gliding swiftly through the underbrush, my footsteps falling upon deaf ears as I searched for my prey. The wind whistled through the branches of the trees I clung to, chilling the already crisp air. Nature seemed to fight against the wind as if it were trying to steal the very life of the trees around which it whirled.tree in the rocks

I had seen nothing in the last hour and a half; the sun was now clearly visible through the widening holes in the murky fog. The crisp early air had begun to warm, and the winds had stilled. All was quiet in the forest near my home, as I shuffled across a fallen tree I give the view a once over.

I am at the highest point of the grounds now and can see most of the layout. In the distance I see what i think is a field of brush, excellent hunting territory. I slowly descend towards the supposed field, careful not to scare any wandering game. As I near my destination i realize it is not a field of brush as i had supposed but a stream of rocks and brush.

As I make a steadfast climb to a rocky outcrop in far corner of the grounds, as I near the top I spy the thing I have been searching for. Unfortunately my game has spied me as well. As I clamber down the opposite side of the rocky slab, the beast is making a dash for the underbrush. Chance must favor me today; the rocks are solid and extend for a good mile, this whole area is a silhouette against the rest of the hunting arena, a rocky scar upon the beauty of the forest. Rocky Outcrop Beneath Brush Pile

There is a kind of silent triumph as I weave my way down towards the brush; at ten yards I stop to load my bow. Slowly I jounce the limbs of the brushpile under which my prey now waits, My hands are slick with sweat and mud from the morning’s travels. Patience is unneeded; this is the most exciting, exhilarating and distressing part of the hunt. The snap of a twig brings me back to the situation a hand, just in time to see a patch of fur. The string creaks as I break back my meager 55 LB bow, and settle in. Then it happens, in a split second of action that lasted a lifetime, action you only expect from the movies, my game takes his first steps from his hiding place, the first step is cautious but crucial, and as I take aim he steps out. In 2 seconds he is running from the brush.

The climax of my day’s adventures has arrived, this is the breaking point, and as I release the bow the beast looks at me. Looking at me as a man condemned would look upon himself. Then the lights leave his eyes, and my catch is still. Not a bad day all in all, the beast is the largest rabbit I have seen all week and well worth the wait.

The sun is now high in the sky as I sling my catch over one shoulder and lean my bow over the other. As I start home I can’t help but think about how I am going to explain to the misses, all the mud upon my boots.