Hunting fever

I have hunting fever so bad!!! Due to previous engagements I will not get to Elk hunt this year. I can hardly stand it, I have not missed archery season for years! Every evening when I go outside I hear the bulls on the private ranch behind the Trading Post calling. It is killing me, the season is almost over. I miss my mountains, I miss the aspen trees, I miss the mushrooms and the sent of damp earth. I miss getting out my cammo and pine scent guard, tightly lacing up my hikers. I yearn to walk carefully up the springy ground, watching for twigs or loose stones that might send warning of my approach. My body aches to stand for hours in Nei Kung, to empty my mind of all but the present, to focus to the point of hearing a single leaf fall. Then out of the quiet to hear the monarch of the forest slowly glide in. The only warning of his approach; birds still and the sensual rustle of leaves as he thinks he is the stalker and I the prey. Seconds warp into eternity till finally a glimpse of his tawny hide is seen. He appears. Breath must go on, the heart must beat, but all knowledge of this is erased from thought. Mystically he lumbers on owning the ground upon which he walks. Head held high, black nose wet and shiny as it flairs and contracts. He circles checking the wind proud in the knowledge he is superior to his enemy. Then the moment of rapture as he walks in to you from down wind. I have won. What happens next does not matter, whether I take his life or he recovers from delusion and escapes; it matters not. I have entered the enemies country and broken down his fortress walls. On his own turf, at his own game, he is fooled; the battle is over and I am the victor.

Oh! I pine for the hunt!