If You Write It - We Will Read it

"They take unbelievable pleasure in the hideous blast of the hunting horn and baying of the hounds. Dogs dung smells sweet as cinnamon to them."

Erasmus Desiderius - who must be a friend of Chad's, who else could he be quoting when he said "When I get a little money, I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes."

After my last post I sent begging letters to far-flung places requesting dog-eared copies of yesteryears hunting and adventure magazines and writings. As I dreamed of reading something a bit better written,  from a [mythical] past where all the writers were always on fire, a piece that could invoke the spirt of those quiet places. My RSS feeds reminded me that tomorrows bloggers will only see this golden age of outdoor blogging if we tell each other about it: Chad had sat down at his keyboard to cast his spell

County Garbage Truck No. 2

Where Chad reviews a book and his reasons for reading it

....early on in life I found my primary solace in the solitary comforts of books, ponds, rivers, woods, fields and the company of dogs. I found something there I simply couldn’t find anywhere else. I knew it the first time I walked along a forgotten little trash-strewn suburban creek more drainage ditch than stream, casting for bluegills and finding such wonder and mystery in its tepid waters. I knew it the first time I sat huddled and freezing against the base of a tree as a buck - the first I’d ever seen not running like hell in the opposite direction – apparated before me like a passing drift of smoke. And I knew it the night I first heard the plaintive calls of a passing flock of Canada geese, somewhere far above me in the impossibly black night.

Each polarity contains the seed of its opposite,  the inner peace of solitude would just be loneliness if  not set against the counterpoint of bonhomie,  and who better to demonstrate bonhomie than The Chief Chronicler himself? 

Charged! Hog Hunting Adventures.
Charged they were, misadventures they nearly were!

“We drove up to the guides ramshackle house, the driveway entrance marked by a couple of mismatched fire hydrants (ill gotten to be sure). A couple of hounds of questionable pedigree lifted their mange ridden heads to see what the wind was dragging in, and wearily dropped them back into the dust wallow they were in. A little cur with half an ear came up happily to meet us, his tail just a waggin, and a look on his face, that in hindsight could have easily been taken as "Please, take me away from here!" But I was more taken by the charnel smell in the air; a mix between a slaughterhouse and a municipal waste dump. It wouldn't be long before I was to find out what caused that peculiar and most disagreeable odor.”

A Nice Walk In The Park
Where fitness is tested, and lessons in preparedness are learned.

“As I was licking the last bit of bacon grease, tomato, and mayo off my finger tips, I thought of how fortuitous I was to live on some land, far from the foolishness of subdivisions and McMansions. I made a comment to my wife about it. She nodded in agreement, and offhandedly remarked that, not only had I not shot any of my firearms in quite some time, but that I hadn’t even done any of my usual scouting either. Handing me the keys to the gun safe, she said I should really go and spend some quality time by myself and do a little shooting and maybe some scouting. “Who knows,” she said, “there could be a hog on the prowl somewhere.” Well I certainly didn’t need anymore encouragement.”

Chad reminded me that the future is still unwritten - so the benediction should be:

"may you live in interesting times and get to be a part of them write them up on your blog".

Your pal

SBW

PS If you have any old hunting mags you think i'd like send me an email.

Picture credit Chad