“Two Roads diverged in a yellow wood…”

                                                                ~ Robert Frost

When I was a kid we spent lots of time hunting and fishing on farmland or ranchland owned by my father’s Texas clients. We’d fish in the farm ponds, man-made reservoirs sometimes big enough to swim or boat in, but mostly serving to water the livestock.

When fishing, my brother and I would wander around looking at things and exploring the surrounding areas. We collected rocks and neat nature things, and always had to be wary of snakes and other critters. By its very nature, fishing is a sit and wait activity, but wandering, looking around or fooling around was more normal for us kids.

When hunting, we tended to be more focused. For doves, we would scatter across the edge of a field, and shoot at passing birds. There was usually interesting stuff around you to see — critters, spider webs, weird plants, insects — so it was sometimes hard to remember to watch for the occasional doves as well. We hunted ducks mostly by “tank hopping,” coming up over the earthen dam quietly and shooting at any ducks that flew up off the water. Occasionally, we would build a blind and set decoys early in the morning. Our dad would call the ducks in while we sat in the cold and waited for them to approach. Sitting quietly while freezing gave “cold contemplation” a whole new meaning to me.

Quail were a whole different ball game. My dad’s dogs would cruise the fields ahead of us, sniffing out coveys before going on point. Usually, we walked in a line across their path so that no one was shooting towards anyone else. Following the dogs meant that for the most part, there were no paths or trails, just open land, often covered with mesquite, thorny bushes and lots and lots of stickery weeds. We wore brush pants and tall boots to protect our legs and, mostly, we walked long ways between chances to shoot. Shade was usually at a premium, so it was easy to get worn down pretty quickly.  

Later, I spent time in the mountains — backpacking or camping — which offered another walking experience. We almost always followed existing trails, sometimes marked with mileage to the campsite or lake. (There were lots of ups and downs, depending on whether we were going or coming.) Unlike our hunting experiences, it was not uncommon to encounter others hiking the trail and potentially camping nearby. You became conscious of the noises that you made and the litter left by others (which we always collected and hauled out).

We usually had to trail blaze to get to a specific spot by a lake or a ridge, meaning that finding our way through forests and mountain sides was different indeed. Topo maps were indispensable as was the compass we each carried. It is easy to get distracted by nature, rocks, critters, weird growths, strange birds, etc., not to mention the weather. We also learned that some map features were either mistaken or changed, so that the trails may or may not go where shown or even exist. Knowing whether to go uphill or downhill became instinctual. There always seemed to be a really interesting “something” shown on the map that was “just over there,” but that we could never locate.

That, however, was part of the mystery and allure of out into the wilderness or even well-worn nature. You never know what you might find — or might find you.