Alone in God's creation.

At least that is how I felt on that Fall day so long ago, trudging through the soft mud of the country field in the middle of nowhere.  As kids, we were raised to respect and honor nature.  We were also taught to be responsible with firearms.  I had enjoyed shooting the 12 gauge shotgun, even if I winced at the thought of the kick it would give my shoulder.  I liked the 20 gauge better because it had less recoil.  Along with my Dad and my brother, I had practiced shooting at clay targets many times.  In the rare moment when I could at least graze one with a shell there was great satisfaction indeed.

Dad had asked me to go hunting with him and Mr. Jackson, whom he had known for many years.  We were in search of dove on that particular day.  As I recall, the sky was overcast and the Fall chill hit me early and often.  Somehow I ended up in a field by myself.  It was evident that this was a field which had been harvested previously, although I do not recall which crop.  I moved slowly and purposefully through the field, as if I knew what I was doing.  The silence around me seemed to have depth and voice, as if disturbed by the punctuating clump of my boots in the earth.  All my senses were on edge.

I suppose I was somewhere near the middle of this particular field as I approached a bush or shrub of some kind.   Any greenery had been stripped with the encroachment of cold weather, but it was rather large in size.  I sidled closer for a better view.  In an instant, the sky erupted with fowl as a veritable bevy of doves ascended from in and around the bush.

And herein lies the sad part.  Shocked as I was, I still had enough wits about me to bring the 20 gauge shotgun up to the shooting position.  But I was confronted with birds flying everywhere, and I simply fired hoping to hit something.  Alas, it was not meant to be.  Poor shot that I was, the birds were never in any real danger.

I may not have scored a hit that day, and I was cold and wet.  But I did find solitude.  It was a unique experience of being alone [well not really alone, correct Lord?] in nature.  Of seeing the majesty in some of His handiwork of creation.  Those birds were breathtaking and marvelous, even if I couldn't hit one.

I guess I was hunting solitude all along.