>Here are some final photos from my Idaho dream trip. A photo essay with the great words from my brother and favorite hunting partner.
Andy, thanks for such a memorable trip!
[Author’s Note: With October quietly slipping away, I am beginning to think of the times to come. This piece is my tribute to November. Maybe some of you can relate].
November. The kindlier months have come and gone and Ol’ Man Winter grows stronger each day, eager to rule his kingdom with his icy grip.
The harvest is over, the leaves have long since bloomed with color, wilted, and trickled to the ground where they are tossed to and fro by the cold wind. What are left are skeletal tree trunks and branches, harsh lighting, and shadows.
If we’re lucky, the month may give us a few warm Indian summer days. Such days afield with bird dogs should be savored as a gift. However, the birds are much scarcer, warier, and less apt to wait around to see what predator is in pursuit. The birds seem to have even more of an advantage in November.
Yet most diehard hunters are not willing to hang up the game bag or to put away the shotgun for the year. The dog still wines eagerly in her kennel. Instead, we welcome the challenge and even chase after the more difficult species, like the Chinese dragon or the fast-flying demonic birds of the near vertical, rimrock slopes. When we and our dogs occasionally connect with a wily November ringneck, it is truly an accomplishment—a reason to celebrate.
November is an opportunity to sit by the fire and reflect on what has been and what will be. In November’s scarcity, the bounties of the past spring, the summer, and the harvest seem almost embarrassing. We realize that we have taken things for granted. November is a time to give thanks, to count our blessings, and to pull close to us those things that matter most. November is a time to pray for better days to come.
Kansas Bobs…here we come!