Bird Hunting
According to my outdoor journals, in spite of increasingly cross looks and sour rumblings from my wife involving lawn-mower maintenance and dandelion removal in the yard – I’ve frittered away a grand total of 25 hours over the past two weeks wandering the forest bottoms and field edges of southern Wisconsin.
Magnolia warbler
“Frittered away” is my wife’s phrase, not mine. I prefer to call it bird hunting. And there aren’t too many of our feathered friends that I won’t burn up daylight trying to shoot.
Turkey, ducks, geese…crows, vultures…eagles, loons, blackbirds or bluebirds. It doesn’t make a difference to me. I’ve collected a limit of warblers this year, but my trigger finger is still itching for more.
Bay-breasted warbler
Unfinished chores aside, my wife is reasonably sympathetic to my bird-brained addiction. She’s especially forgiving when I take off my muddy boots and fold the camera up neatly before walking into the kitchen when returning from the hunt, and she beams from ear to ear when I put my mounts in a nice frame and hang them on the living room wall.
Chestnut-sided warbler
I hope PETA is as forgiving as my wife when it comes to bird hunting. Like the hayfields and dandelion bloom springing into bloom along my front step, the wild harvest is in full-blooded flight with no sign of falling back to earth. I’ve still got room in my trophy case, and there’s still a memory card’s worth of ammunition that needs to be fired.
Scarlet tanager
John Luthens is a freelance writer and photographer from Grafton, Wisconsin. His first novel, Taconite Creek, is available on Amazon or at www.cablepublishing.com or by contacting the author at Luthens@hotmail.com