Walking In The Woods

When I was in my tweens I started going hunting with my dad. Initially, I wasn't allowed to carry a gun, since I hadn't completed hunter safety yet, so I would walk with my dad. The thing about hunting with my dad is that he was a terrible hunter. Well maybe not terrible, but pretty unlucky at least. So our hunting outings turned into walks in the woods. These walks are some of my favorite memories of my dad from that time of my life. While dad's hunting prowess was questionable, he did know a lot about the woods, or at least it felt like he did. I remember him pointing out things about trees or the way grasses laid or animal tracks. As an eleven or twelve year old boy I found it all fascinating. We rarely saw any animals during our walks and frequently got lost, perhaps because dad was too busy telling me about everything, but we did have a good time. Perhaps that's why I was willing to deal with the frigid cold of Maine in November at 6 a.m. - it was either that or breakfast at Burger King. It's hard to suss out a twelve year old's motives. In a way it was those walks that made me love being in nature so much.

To this day a walk in the woods refreshes my soul. I'm sure that part of that is the nature of being in nature. Fresh air is an amazing commodity. Being away from the hustle, bustle, stress and requirements of life is surely restorative as well. But every time I'm in the woods I remember walking with dad, him carrying a high power rifle, me astonished by the world he described. I'd give just about anything for one more walk in the woods with dad.