I mull right
As you get older and wiser, contemplation is one of the blessings of the outdoors
About 15 years ago, when Dad still moved around easily, I found a sitting spot for him while deer hunting, then circled a couple of miles on a Pennsylvania mountain and pushed five deer past him.
I didn’t hear a shot, though I knew they were within range for a good marksman like him. When I reached him, I asked, in a huffy tone, why he hadn’t shot, and he just shrugged. I finally asked if he had loaded his rifle. When he said he wasn’t sure, I got angry. He ignored my snit, then motioned for me to go to my evening spot.
In the years since, I understand his savoring moments in the woods and just sitting there, uncaring if the gun is even loaded.
Being older probably helps in that regard. Having my chest split open for a triple bypass in January really heightened that. There’s something profoundly humiliating and humanizing about my wife having to do
such mundane things as putting my socks on for several weeks.
It really hit home Sunday when I was “squirrel hunting” at Iroquois County State Wildlife Area. I really didn’t give a damn if I shot at a squirrel or not but truly enjoyed sharing the morning coming down with wildlife.
I brought it up with Dad on Monday. Since Mom died, he and I have long phone conversations on Mondays. He just turned 93, and he cracked, “That’s what happens when you get older.”
Maybe it’s getting older.
I prefer to think it’s getting smarter and more honest about what truly matters in my outdoor life.
That struck me even more Sunday, when news side at the Sun-Times published a longer story on my top-10 fishing spots around Chicago. I did a public list for a general audience. My personal list shares some spots, such as the South Rocks at Montrose Harbor, where I learned to fish Chicago from reading the late John Spehn in the Sun-Times in the 1980s, and the Kankakee River State Park.
Longtime reader Ed J. Schmitt posted in response, “Thank you for leaving out Mazonia. It needs to go back to being a hidden gem.”
On my personal list, Mazonia SFWA would rank in the top three, and Schmitt, who also loves fishing at Mazonia, understands. Though I think he values the fishing more than I do. For me, Mazonia is a great place to disappear and clear my head.
Tom Palmisano wondered why I hadn’t included Palmisano Park, one of my favorite spots in Chicago. The catch-and-release fishing is good there, but it’s not why I love it. If I’m nearby, I stop and hike to the top of the hill for the second-best view of downtown Chicago.
Maybe part of it is that I’ve caught some memorable fish — a 30-pound-plus flathead catfish from the Rock River and a 34-pound muskie from Kinkaid Lake — and lost a lifetime fish when I finessed a 100-pound-plus tarpon from under a dock on the west side of Florida, only to have it break off with an unstoppable charge under the boat.
Another part might be that I had two chances to shoot my dream buck, which I had followed for months while holed up in a mountain cabin pretending to write a hard-boiled Mennonite detective novel, but I missed both shots.
In the spring, I wander odd paths at Kankakee River SP, pretending to look for morels. I’m really just feeling the progression of spring in my bones and guts, savoring being alone.
More and more, time alone to mull life is what I most value in the outdoors.