Quaking Aspens

The greatest part about being awake at 5am is the serenity. Life seems to take a break. The cool air refreshes. It is so quiet that if you listen carefully you can hear the sky whisper. It whispers of the coming day, of the hot sun, and the billowing clouds. The sky whispers of hopes and dreams yet to come. As day climbs closer and closer, and the morning stars drift farther and farther, I pause and wonder why I don't wake up at 5am more often. Its sad how it takes an extraordinary event in my life for me to wake up and witness such a majestic display. And a little ironic that the extraordinary event is an attempt to take the life of another living creature.

It used to be a large family affair. We'd all get together, brothers, parents, sisters, grandparents, aunts, and uncles. Annually this was a time of excitement. To some we may have been attempting to murder innocent creatures. Others would call it bow hunting. For me it was a a bonding experience. Over the years it has dwindled from a larger family gathering to a small intimate family outing. Usually just my dad, brothers and myself. But with dwindling numbers the depth of meaning has only deepened.

On this morning I found myself staring at the breaking dawn with my dad and youngest brother. All the others had moved away. We crossed the stream, stumbled through sagebrush and found our way to the base of a rolling ridge. We climbed up through the quaking aspens to the first of many deer highways crisscrossing the ridge.

"We'll take this trail." My dad said. "And you take the higher trail. Walkie talkies on channel 1. We'll meet at the flat rock."

"Okay."I replied and continued towards the top. Looking down the ridge the trees gaped open, revealing golden rolling hills slowly being illuminated by the rising sun. I took a deep breath and began along the trail.

"Soft" I thought. I need to step softly. Thousands of leaves whispered their secrets. I didn't whisper back, but I wish I had. What was I stalking? Deer, maybe. But mostly a fleeting feeling. Kind of like the feeling of letting go. It was like standing on a cliff edge. Thoughts and fears crowd your mind. Some unknown force pulls you forward. At first you resist, but then the cliff slides from under your feet and you fall. As you fall your mind clears and becomes so light that you begin to float down, spiraling like a feather. That was what I stalked.

A branch snapped off to the right, breaking my contemplations. A beautiful buck, bounded from about ten yards away to thirty-five. It stopped and stared at me for a few minutes. I could see the muscles quivering, eyes sparkling, and nostrils flaring. It was majestic. My heart raced. In my hand I held a weapon of destruction. I could raise my bow, draw back and attempt to end this life. But could I? With a wild snort the buck bounded away.

I sat down. And waited. For my mind to clear? For the buck to come back? For another chance? It doesn't matter. I waited.

After a little while I stood up and went to find my dad and little brother.

Some people may say that my hunt wasn't successful. In some regards they were right. But for about 20 seconds I experienced that elusive feeling that I had been stalking.