Snow last night
Early this year
Flakes still flutter
White drifts four feet deep.
Deep powder,
Feathery stuff,
So cold so dry
You see the six points on every flake
Each unique
I climb straight up the mountain
Before dawn
On the mountain's other side,
Away from ski lodge and trails.
No sound heard.
But my boots shuffling shuffling
Through snow
Up to my knees
Sunlight awakens the world
Dawn
I keep moving... one hour... then two.
The trees... leaves mostly fallen
Others still hanging, yellow or red
What are they?
Maple, ash, and oak,
Hemlock, poplar, some kind of pine
Fifteenth birthday last July
First hunt
All alone
Totally clueless
Delighted to be where I am.
Stop... eat some jerky and an apple
Drink some tea
Then go on, ever up and up.
Young... I think I can climb forever.
But I stop next to a wild apple tree
And suddenly!
Listen... what is that?
It's like whispering, whispering, whispering
In my ear
It is deer moving through the powdery snow
Whisper, whisper, whisper
I hear them from far away
They come in a line.  No antlers.
All does.  My.35 is up
Sighted in the day before
Waiting for the buck
Stunningly beautiful scenery,
High up on Belleayre Mountain
Watching those does, six—no seven of them
Gracefully moving through the snow
All in a line
And they don't see me
Don't catch my scent
Air too dry
They pass so close
I could reach my carbine out
And touch them with its tip.
CRASH in the tree line
Just above me...
Hundred yards away
A great antlered buck and a white tail
Disappearing in the flash of an eye
No fool he...That wise old buck!
My heart is beating fast as a rabbit
Tapping its paw
I couldn't take that buck
But I don't care.
I could never have even gotten him
Down from there, anyway
If I had shot him
But I don't care.
I'm glad he's alive and free
Just like me.
One of the most
Beautiful days of my life
Hunting up on Belleayre Mountain
Near Margaretville
Just those deer, the snow,
The trees, the sun,
The mountain, and me.