The old pump jack sputters a blue flame while in the distance, the engines of distant pumping units pop rhythmically. As a kid, I used to hear their thumping and imagine Indians dancing around the fire, beating their drums and passing the peace pipe, while grandfather peyote brought visions. A lot has changed out here over the years, but some things remain the same.
Today, I checked the news and read about a war in Gaza, Russians in Ukraine, drought, famine, political polarization, and more. It's easy to lose serenity just by watching main stream media. The term "programming" is aptly named because it comes with a political spin. But today, I choose to think for myself and not buy into it. Instead, I'm going hunting.
The world will continue to turn, spinning madly on, but when I'm out in the field, it seems to spin a little slower. There's something in the air, both within and without, that transcends the boundaries of this world. Hunting is a moment of respite, where those boundaries are but illusions. It's a place where one can take a breath and clear the mind, where our instincts are woven with nature, creating a seamless continuity that defies polarization. It's a primitive freedom, seeking solace in a holistic truth, one that is not influenced by political spin.
The coyotes were quite active. I managed to call them in on almost every stand until after midnight. However, their activity slowed down and they became less vocal once the waning crescent moon began rising. Despite this, I pressed on until sunrise, focusing on the things I could control - location, setups, avenues of approach, and direction of my scent cone. I used the same sequence - first, I would start with a series of lone howls, followed by a couple of minutes of silence, and then some whimpers and whines mixed with bird and rabbit distress. If nothing showed up within the first 15-20 minutes, I would start trying to sound like a couple of excited, worked-up coyotes yapping, and then go into some type of fight and pup distress.
Imagine looking down from the moon at the human race, seeing soldiers marching and wars raging. We are a destructive species.
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