You ever heard the one that goes, “I went to a fight and a hockey game broke out”?
Yesterday, I went on a deer hunt and a bird hunt broke out.
It was high noon in a scenic New Jersey swamp. Ahhhh the wonder. Thankful for some high ground I stopped chasing white flags and sat for an apple and a new plan.
I was just about to the core of a Granny Smith and ready for a nap when an old man ring-neck happened by. He was humping his way through the swamp. I was as surprised by seeing his crisp white ‘necktie’ as I was to find that I’d forgotten to shoot my day’s field-tipped practice arrow.
No better time than the present. Off that arrow went from about 20 yards. The shot was good!
Or so I thought.
While I was busy presenting myself with archer of the year, he beat it to the middle of the quagmire, flying off, arrow and all.
Two swamp sucking hours later I recovered that tough bird. Man, he was something else. Dressed to the nines.
I finished what I’d started and said my peace and counted blessings. It was quick pictures and make shift game bag.
That morass was thick and ugly and was kicking my ass something good.
All those white-flagged middle fingers that I got crashing my way back out reminded me why I’d come.
I couldn’t care less.
