Waterlogged

The last several times that I had planned a morning walkabout, my hopes had been squashed by unwelcome precipitation. Even though rain had settled in on us for the last couple days. I had my alarm set for zero dark thirty this morning in hopes that the mist and drizzle would subside for just a little while.

Just as the black outside my window was starting to turn to a slightly less black, my four year old strode into the bedroom to tell his mother that he was up. She very nicely reminded him that daddy wanted to get up early today to go out with his camera, so he walked around the bed and put his little hand on my shoulder.

Gently shaking me, "Daddy, do you still want to get up early?"

I trained my ear to the outdoors and could hear the rain thumping on the roof of the shed in the yard. Like an unwanted house guest that didn't know when to leave, the rain was really starting to annoy me. I peeled my eyelids back, and sat up on the edge of the bed, contemplating a plan of action. "Get back under the quilt and go back to sleep" was leading in the polls, but "Get your butt up and go out shooting anyways" came up from behind to score the surprise victory.

I got myself dressed, and threw a few logs into the wood stove. Grabbing my camera bag and tripod, I stopped at the refrigerator for a can of Coke to infuse my system with some much needed caffeine. As I walked out the front door, I was greeted by the cold, wet, dark air. Going back to bed was sounding better, but I was already this far. No sense turning back now.

I haven't shot in three days now, and my trigger finger was getting itchy. Speaking of shooting, to top it all off, it's deer season too, and I'm out in the dark dressed in black. I'm going to have to be careful out in those woods.







“I'm a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it.”
Thomas Jefferson 1762-1826