Tuesday, October 16, 2012


The foreign faculty here at Sias live in two buildings. The one I live in is called Peter Hall and was constructed approximately twelve years ago. It is five-and-half stories high. Between each floor there is a balcony that opens to the outdoors. Tonight, after reading for a while, I went outside hoping for a splash of night air to revive me enough to study for another hour or so. As soon as I stepped through the white framed glass doors of the lobby a blast of wind from the west greeted me. A few more steps and I was leaning over the balcony railing and staring into the heavens. What a surprise--the sky was so clear I could not only see the stars, but could actually see them twinkle. Though off in the distant north lights of dwellings and industry seemed like they were next door.

The fresh, cool, night carried with it the spirit of a muse. Within seconds it piqued my thoughts and I began recalling the many times--in just such weather--I trudged across harvested corn fields or followed a dim moon-shadowed trail through the woods to get to a tree stand before light, or to find my way home after dark. Images stored in my memory came back as clear as the sky that surrounded me: a bobcat sunning itself on the edge of a field--unaware he was under surveillance through my scope, coyotes that met their Maker--thanks to my scope, bucks sparring and running does, a flock of turkeys scratching at the dirt under my stand, and the piece of Wrigley's gum that I spit out that landed just above the tail feathers--for the next twenty minutes one of those gobblers strutted around with that stuck to its back! I always brought a book with me when I hunted from a blind; a Louise L'Amour western. Once, while hunting with my buddy Bob, I got to reading L'Amour's Shaliko, fell asleep, and woke up in time to see a nice buck step back into the woods. Never even got my Winchester model 88, 308 cal. to my shoulder. . .

Enjoying the Adventure,


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