Today is the first day of the new fall that I went hiking with a set of old friends. One is my wool jacket. It’s got most of a collar and both sleeves. The two pockets sag at the top but don’t have any holes. My hunting coat is missing the bottom button on purpose because I cut it off a couple of years ago to accommodate a larger mid section I had grown into.
Something had to give and I hope with all this walking another button doesn’t ever have too. I could have left it unbuttoned I suppose but I felt better knowing it would never have to be fastened or somebody might say, hey, the bottom of your jacket is unbuttoned. Now if anyone inquires or points it out I just say, “The button has been gone for years.”
It’s nice every once in awhile to walk away from all the trails or paths. The roads or lanes won’t feel my footfalls today. Sunshine on my shoulders and off I go. I don’t even follow a good deer trail, I just walk wherever I think nobody else has ever stepped. No thinking, no concentrating, just walk. That always looks good to me when I start out.
Sometimes like today I take a walk and I have to keep both hands in my coat pockets. It’s not cold enough for gloves, gloves that I forgot, but it’s too chilly to go au natural. In any case I find the dangest things in last fall’s coat pockets. My right pocket I have extracted two grouse feathers, one sinker, too many pine needles to count and of course one dried and shriveled cigar. I bet I was just about to light it up end of last season when a ruffed grouse exploded so I tucked it in my pocket real quick for safe keeping. I don’t recall if I got the bird, but a dried cigar is better than no cigar.
My left pocket has an equal number of pine needles, two used stick matches, a one bladed jack knife I use for slicing into apples or my favorite after nap pasttime of whittling whilst I while away the day leaned up against lords-knows-what pondering some great mystery like how did I get so turned around again. Being lost is a good time to clean my coat pockets, its amazing how being lost clears my head too. With a very clear head, I always tell myself I’m not lost, I’m right here.
Then I find out real quick what I don’t have. Spare food or a survival kit. What I have that’s of no use, or more to the point, totally useless, is a lone fishing sinker. Once I take stock of all the stuff I don’t have I decide maybe I don’t want to spend the night in the woods playing the 2009 version of Daniel Boone so I stop whittling, fasten all the remaining buttons on my warm wool friend and look for my other friend. I should’ve brought my compass, and it may be a longer walk than I thought, but Mr. Setting Sun can just lead the way, and thank Heaven, that looks pretty good right now.
The trout whisperer
I’M HERE, RIGHT HERE.