A New Beginning

Quiet Nights

Amongst aspen trees and towering evergreen conifers, where Grizzlies East meets Cumberland Forest, a small patch of land lies host to a number of burrows, around and nearby. From the branches and sky atop, creatures of the canopy chirp, tweet, and caw with ardent zeal, in excite, – in haste of enthralling a female kin with their vocal prowess or ascertain their brethren of their rightful realm before day turns night. Quails of sparrows meld with the warbling trills of blue jays, songbirds, and cardinals, the ceaseless cheeping of hatchlings, the cawing of crows and high above, the lone screech of an eagle. Bees and butterflies are living the best life their two-to-five-week allotted span allows, whirling about with pep and verve among blooming shrubs, the white blossoms of wild carrot or the blue of violet snowdrops, only fleetingly disturbed by the romp of a black-tailed bunny rabbit blissfully oblivious to the crosshairs tailing its fluffy, little head. Your body low in the foliage of a lush-leaved shrub, you wait for the little feller to come to a standstill before lining up the scope right between its large bunny ears. Now, hold steady and gently pull the trigger, nice and easy...

And BOOM – down it goes. Beasties, critters, and feather-donned creatures scatter about. Jaunty cheep-cheep and chirp-chirp morph into an ear-splitting screech commingled with the flapping of a hundred wings. Then all is still. The peace has been disrupted. Mother nature holds her breath.

You approach the bundle of meat and fur, at which you sink to your knees and put the rifle aside. The skin is intact, barring a small hole where the bullet had pierced its skull. A one-hit kill. Your chest swells with relief. The animal did not suffer. That established, you think nothing more of its fate.

Your arm is healing nicely, though your injury is not of concern right now. The blade of Arthur's knife slides into the carcass with the deft ease of trained hands. Dots and specks of dappling sun bop about your fingers as you separate skin from flesh, sometimes clumsily, sometimes dexterously, your mind somewhere else entirely. The chipping above resumes. First, as a careful warble, then a thrill and then another still. Not before long, a medley of birdsong resumes as if nothing has passed at all.

The first hunt – the first kill was quite the challenge to put it mildly, owing to lack of experience as much as the deed itself. As were the second and the third. Now, inversely, hunting, killing, plucking, and skinning have become quotidian routine. And there is no shortage of practice. Notwithstanding rare rainfalls and dry ground, the forest is teeming with game high and low. Granted, there are some predators too, as with any biota, of which the biggest concern is wolves; shy and mostly nocturnal this time of the year, the grey howler is by and large an easy one to chase away with a shot to the air provided no cubs are around. Other than that, the fauna is none too worrisome, aside from coyotes maybe – where you fear rabies more than anything, and the odd viper.

The rays of sun relative to the ground has gone from perpendicular to slanted. Upon your whistling command, the trotting of hooves can soon be heard. You fasten the freshly skinned carcass to the saddle, whereupon you wipe your hands on the apron tied around your waist, adding to the copious streaks and splotches of red, slip the pelt into your satchel, pick up a hamper crammed with greens and mushrooms and head back from whence you came. You can't afford to be gone for long.

Outside the small, grass-covered hut that's been your home for the past week or so, you hitch Buell and, following a habitual treat and pat on his neck, you gather the flora and fauna of today and head towards the derelict, mound-like housing.

As soon as you open the door, stale air hits you like a barn door to the face. It's the same routine every day. You stand idle in the doorway for about three seconds, listening. For all your hurry to head back, you are suddenly in no hurry at all. Then you enter the dimly lit room and gently close the door.