BigGamehunt.net: In the first light of day and the last grayness of evening, there are imagined sounds which seem real and real sounds which might be imagined. And between the two is the muffled silence of the northwoods in autumn, sodden still from the pre-dawn drizzle and musty already with the change of the season. Somewhere in the distance drifted the faint song of high flying geese headed south.
But my mind had registered another sound, the sharp snap of a twig behind the screen of alders that crowded the edge of the marsh. My ears scarcely heard it and the longer I strained to hear it again, the longer I strained to see movement behind the brush, the more certain I became that the sound had been imagined. A figment of my imagination created by my eagerness to see game. As I relaxed the grip on my compound bow and I settled back to my silent vigil, I felt the morning chill crawl down my spine. Ducking a bit deeper into the warmth of the wool jacket, I gathered up the loose ends of earlier thoughts left dangling. Click here for the rest of the story: http://www.biggamehunt.net/articles/lessons-moose-have-taught-me