Today was a pretty special day. Our kids are on fall break, and although we tossed around different plans for epic adventures, we ended up deciding to keep it simple and hang at home for most of the break. I, however, was craving a family day in the mountains. We loaded up and headed into the woods. It always takes a little time away from electronics for our kids to detox and return to their wonderful selves, and today proved no different, but we soon settled into a relaxing mood that included watching the aspen leaves fall and scanning the hillsides for grouse. As you may have read in a previous post, A Walk in the Woods, I have been out searching with my husband for some grouse, but have yet to actually find one to even attempt shooting. I have been after my first grouse for some time now, having decided it was time to step into a more active role in our family’s food production.
For years I swore I would never hunt. Hunting is a part of our family's lifestyle, since my husband has always hunted, and I am happy to cook everything he brings home. At first, I insisted that the meat come in the house looking like it would if it came from a store, thinking I couldn't handle the "blood and guts." Slowly, I began to be more involved in the processing of the meat, and eventually was a regular part of my husband's hunting practices, if only in the post-hunt steps. At some point a switch was flipped. I can't quite explain why, but I suddenly felt hypocritical eating meat that I had no hand in dispatching. All of a sudden, I wasn't at all bothered by the idea of hunting myself, and it became apparent that I really needed, for my own sense of morality, to start hunting myself.
This may sound a little strange, or even backwards, so I think it is important I explain. When I talk about morality and my food, I refer to the knowledge of where that food came from, how it was handled, and who was responsible for it. It occurred to me that I had very little knowledge of where most of my food came from. I loved that my husband brought home an elk or deer most years, and that we grew the occasional head of lettuce, but most of our food came from the grocery store.
My awareness of the distance between myself and my food hit me like a tidal wave. It was amazingly overwhelming, and I needed to change it immediately. Most of my friends and family were shocked, but my mind was made up. I was going to begin my journey to a more responsible connection with my food, and because it was fall, it was going to start with a small mountain bird, a grouse.
And then I came up against the wall that many do, my ambition was no match for the plans of mother nature. She had no intention of making this journey easy on me. And that is where my story picks back up. For nearly a month I had traipsed through the woods, following my husband, who was feeling the pressure of starting off my hunting career. As we approached the end of grouse season I had begun to tell myself it looked like it wasn't going to happen this year.
So here we were, in the mountains above our home, in one of my favorite places on the planet. I let go of the expectation I would shoot a grouse, and just enjoyed the day with my family.
The kids let go of their ties to technology, and rediscovered their love of the mountains. I reveled in the happiness of my family, and the closeness we found in the wild. The air was crisp and the sky was clear. It was one of those perfect days that you wish would never end. We finally had to head home, and we started the drive down the mountain. This road is undeniably my favorite drive, ever. This time of year it shines, with the aspens glowing, and leaves falling in slow motion, even the drive home is perfect.
And then I spotted it. There was a grouse in a tree, just waiting for me. This part of the story is a bit fuzzy in memory, since excitement has clouded the details, but it goes a little like this; I yelled, Nick hit the brakes, I grabbed the shot gun and hopped out of the car, ran into the woods, got into position, and took aim. Then I remember very clearly what happened.
I took my time.
I mean, a long time.
Later, Nick confided to me that he was panicking in the car, wondering why I wasn't pulling the trigger. I laugh now, but then I was very calm, and focused. I was breathing, focusing, visualizing my target.
The grouse obviously REALLY wanted me to become a huntress, because it just sat there, and sat, and waited. It was probably thinking, come on lady!
I finally pulled the trigger, and the grouse fell out of the tree. Yippee! I did it! I am triumphant! Nick came running out of the car, the kids were cheering, and I was smiling from ear to ear.
And thank goodness for that silly grouse, who sat there and waited to get shot, because I am hooked, there is no going back!
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