Ghosts

I am haunted by ghosts these days. These are not the ghosts of horror movies, but the ghosts of days past; days that were spent in woods and fields, lakes and streams. I am haunted by these ghosts when the scorched, white-hot days of August give way to the promise of fall and eventually the chill winds of the first blue norther. You see these are the days I have spent in the field as a hunter. I remember every hunt as if it were yesterday. I remember a day in early December, in 1964, when I went on my first deer hunt and sat in a tree stand through a Hill Country ice storm. I remember another hunt that took place over a rainy weekend in South Texas. I remember a hunt with my Papaw, when he made a pot of venison chili that still makes me want to break out my spoon. I could go on but these ghosts probably interest no one but me and maybe some of the good men who were part of those hunts too.

These days spent with my dad, my brother, my son, my father-in-law, my nephews and friends have played a large role in shaping who I am. Being a hunter is not really politically correct these days, but it has been quite some time since I have been accused of being politically correct. The days I have spent in the field enjoying Creation have proven to me that there is indeed a Creator and that we owe Him our worship and adoration. Perhaps the great naturalist and hunter John Muir said it best when he said that each petal of each flower was a window through which to see the Creator. Amen!

So, do not feel sorry for me because I am haunted by ghosts. Just let me enjoy the haunting and remember days that have past and gone, but have left their mark forever!