It's that time of year again. The time where everything is starting to change from green to shades of red, purple, orange, gold and brown. Here in Pennsylvania, mourning dove and goose seasons have opened. This means long walks around fields of corn, alfalfa, or soybeans. It doesn't necessarily mean any dove or goose meat on the table though.
Some will call me cruel for hunting doves. I don't look at it that way. They are an animal like any other and are perfect game for someone like myself who doesn't have the ability to stand or sit still for very long. To be honest, the doves are nearly as safe with me hunting them as they would be without. I used to be a much better shot, but it seems time has changed that.
I put my Remington 870 Wingmaster 20 gauge in its travel bag, which was then strapped in front of the crate, and headed to the farm I normally hunt.
It was a lovely day for a walk. The fields of soybeans stretched away as I strode around the outer edge. There were dragonflies flitting this way and that above the green and brown plants, but the only birds to be seen were sparrows and a few raptors overhead. This was fine since I don't really go hunting for the wild game, but rather for the joy of being outdoors, besides, not shooting anything means I don't have to clean it.
Going hunting on a scooter requires a bit of minimalism. It also helps not to forget that there's a gun strapped to the bike. I kinda forgot until the the gun case knocked into my neighbor's truck. There was no damage to either the truck or the shotgun, but it threw me off balance which nearly made me dump the scoot. Even so, scooters are a perfect way to get out for small game. One doesn't need much to hunt small animals; just a firearm, some ammo, and a place to put the results of the day's hunt. Scooters or other small bikes can easily provide this.
The small things in life seem to have a healing power. Being alone has its own catharsis. The beauty of nature, time with one's thoughts, time with God, all alone with no one else around. It's a beautiful thing.
The Gift of Riding
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Realizations of the Obvious I can get lost inside myself. Preoccupied with
meaningless or sometimes even harmful or pointless preoccupations that cut
me ...
1 week ago
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