Categories
fantasy hunting mystery outdoors Uncategorized writing

The “Bevan“

Slipping quietly along the game trail as the first hint of daybreak shows the figure, is indistinguishable in the dark, his ghillie suit blending completely with the dark and vegetation. Carrying a full sized backpack, and a handmade bow, he slips onto his favorite tree, one that’s very alive but laying down along the ground with an upturn that his back comfortably rests against. Silently unhooking the backpack and setting it on the tree the Hunter settles to wait. The forest sounds become a constant din of noise in the background and the forest slowly wakes, still an hour before full daylight but light enough to start making out shapes and movement quite easily for the experienced woodsman who has spent his life in the woods whenever he can escape the daily grind.

Rugged looking, 6’ with hair graying but with still more brown than gray. Bearded face with piercing clear blue eyes that have seen many horrors and many tender moments, slight smile in the corners as if he knows something funny that no one else does. Well past being youthful, the hunter has many scars, and many wounds, some that ache and always will, and some that are tucked away inside his mind where no one is allowed to see. Just an ordinary, humble man, but one look tells you, that if you are looking for trouble, best look elsewhere because as the saying goes “it’s the quiet ones that you need watch”, and an old man still surviving in a young man’s world is not one to quarrel with. The Hunter silently checks his gear out of habit, on his belt on the left hip a sheath knife given to him by a good friend many ages ago, Damascus blade hand crafted and razor sharp, he never leaves without it. On his right hip, is a “Ronin” 45, a present given to him by the one love he’s ever had in his life who is at home still asleep as he hunts for whatever comes by. Strapped to the backpack is a wicked looking knife 20 inches long, curved blade of stainless with serrations on the back resembling a dragons spine, inside it has a fire starter, rope, a hooded cloak gray and woolen as the archers wore in days gone, by the type that is water repelling and seems to blend into any background, 2 spare magazines for his pistol with 2 boxes of bullets in the bottom that he did not know his “Peach” had put there “just in case”. There are other things that have found their way into the pack over the years that may become useful at some time. The Hunter runs his hand over the smooth wooden bow that took months to make, one that until he practiced with for ages he could not even fully pull back. His arrows, wooden and hand made fill the leather quiver that he carries on his back so drawing is easy. Calloused fingers caress the wood as the Hunter smiles at old comments on the size of his hands…

…Suddenly his eyes jerk towards movement to his right and down one of the game trails that converge 25 yards to his front, and he sees a gray fox trotting along the game trail towards his perch. Watching curiously as the fox comes closer and looks at him before just curling up in a comfortable spot close to his feet and going to sleep as if it was completely normal. “Well bub, I won’t bother you if you don’t spoil my chances”. The fox strangely payed no attention apparently already asleep on the soft grass. The Hunter sat silently contemplating on the oddity that was the wild animal, coming over and sleeping like that, did not appear sick, looked well nourished, so it was a conundrum he pondered. The hunters eyes flicked up as he started sensing something working it’s way down the trail on the opposite side of the clearing. Catching a glimpse of a small but legal to harvest whitetail deer, he slowly begins to draw his bow as the animal is obscured by some blackberry bushes. The deer walked past the bushes and stopped just out of the clearing in the woods, it’s tail nervously twitching and it’s eyes looking all around. The Hunter thought to himself “that deer senses something, winds in my favor so it’s not me” as he settles his aim on the area behind the front shoulder, low to try and hit the heart for a fast kill. Settling into a perfect rhythm between himself and the bow he no longer thinks about the motions or his movements as his fingers start to roll off the string to release it, everything is just how it should be, broadside 25-26 yards away, no wind, undetected, the Hunter releases the arrow and watches as if in slow motion it’s flight towards the deer.

The Hunter watches and suddenly notices a disturbance between him and the deer, something is weird, his view to the deer is interrupted by what looks like heat waves coming off asphalt on a summer day and as his arrow enters the heat wave it vanishes and as soon as it does the heat wave dissipates and there are 4 figures standing in the clearing facing away from him all looking at a 5th, but this one was not a man it was something like you would see in a movie as an ork or troll. This one fell over backwards and it was only then that the Hunter realized that two of the four had swords drawn one an axe and the last a spear all facing the other creature who had one of the hunters arrows sticking out of his neck. All four suddenly turned around and spread out facing the Hunter but it took a few seconds to find him as he blended in so well, weapons pointed in his direction and the Hunter remained quiet his bow half drawn as he had already readied the bow with lightening like speed from months of practice to be ready for a follow up shot at a wounded animal, all this took place even before the four had got totally into view. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the fox was awake and intently watching but had not moved. One of the four slowly lowered his sword and made a motion like putting his hand over his chest and bowed slightly, the other 3 followed suit but none of them looked the least bit relaxed.

Years of reading people and judging threats, the Hunter could tell these were soldiers of some type, they were dangerous and could handle themselves in a fight. The Hunter lowered his bow relaxing the string holding both, arrow still strung in his left hand and his right hand on his thigh near his hip where the Ronin was holstered. His advantage lies in the constant multiple assailant practice scenarios he drilled into himself, and his family. He was relaxed but knew things could go south quick and the chances are he would not get out unscathed if they did. So he remained silent and examined the four. All were tall, silver blonde hair long and down over their shoulders, wearing cloaks like the one he has but these constantly changed it seemed even more to become the same as the background, leather like moccasin type booths laced up to the knees, clear grey/blue eyes. They reminded him of woodsman from an age long gone, but their garb was more well made with silvery thread their shirts were covered with leather armor tightly woven with layers of overlapping pieces to make penetration difficult.

The Hunter got the distinct impression that these “men” were reading and judging him as he was them. The one who initially lowered his sword said something to the others and they sat on the ground where they were while he approached. The Hunter stood up now, still relaxed looking but balanced, weight on the balls of his feet, bladed towards the strangers and hand hooked in his belt by the holster containing the Ronin. The stranger stopped after getting to about six feet away and said “Bevan?” In perfect English. The Hunter remained silent and the stranger repeated “Bevan?” And looked at him curiously.

The Hunter knew Bevan was welsh for “archer” from one of the books that his Peach would laugh at him for reading at one time or another, but he also knew it wasn’t his name nor was he welsh. “Not sure who you think I am bub, but names Lee, not Bevan”.

The stranger looked slightly confused but did not let it dismay him “I am Rotar, I was sent along with my trusted friends to find Bevan, the archer, we need his help”.

“Well Rotar, all I can tell you is that my name’s Lee, I do use a bow to hunt sometimes, but I do not know anyone named Bevan”.

The soldier named Rotar began telling a tale to the Hunter as they stood in the clearing deep in the woods, and the hunter interrupted by holding up his hand, “Perhaps, before you get into a long drawn out story, you could tell me who or what that thing is?”, as he pointed at the creature with his arrow protruding out of its neck, obviously dead.

Rotar said “You don’t know an enemy when you see it? This is a Brak. It’s a foot soldier of our enemy, not very smart but very deadly with its axe”.

“Ok, so it’s your enemy, what does that have to do with me?” asks Lee in a calm voice, “Where did it come from, where did you come from?”.

“We followed it to the portal to try and stop it crossing into your time, but we were too late, and it opened the portal and we had to follow” says Rotar.

“Portal? What portal, and why would it want to come here?” says Lee.

Rotar replied with a solemn voice, laced with a bit of urgency “ It’s mission was to come here and find the Bevan and kill him, and anyone related to him, down to the last of his bloodline”.

Categories
Cooking health hunting Law Enforcement Life photography Uncategorized writing

Things to Do

Batman Says:

So, here we are again headed towards a new year and all that it holds in promise. If all goes well (welp, cross that off, when has all gone well ever?) this time next year I will have less than a month left to work at a job that has encompassed 27 years of my life. Peach and I will be moving on to different things and honestly I’m ok with that. I have enjoyed this career and will think fondly about it after i’m gone, but only for a few weeks, then it goes in the “bucket” and off we go to do stuff.

I have been pondering ideas around in my mind as what to do with the time I will have. First time must be spent repairing and replacing all the little things around the place that I have let slip with the “I’ll do it later” tag on it. That honestly is not a lot of things but it is a few and should keep me busy for a couple weeks, then what? Peach has informed me numerous times that she will not be giving up her job so I will have to find interesting things to do to occupy my alone time, I will probably do a bit more fishing, I used to enjoy that and my kids called me the fish whisperer as a joke. Run the trap lines with a bit more interest, something I kinda got out of the habit of doing that I really enjoy the challenge of. Exploring new spots in which to hunt is also an option, can’t ever have too many spots to sit and surprise a wary buck. I won’t be going off taking photographs by my lonesome, as that is something Peach and I do together. I may write more, get in the habit of posting small little blurbs as to what my daily plan is and what I did the day prior, basically a record for my family to see and laugh at when I’m no longer here (you’re not that lucky Peach, it’s gonna be a long time still). Peach got me started with this blogging stuff and I don’t always hold up my end and write posts like I should. But, I won’t have the “work” excuse anymore. I have made myself a promise that I would try and write a book of stories, as mentioned in a previous post “writing interesting things” (it was I think) and putting it out there to see if there are any “old country boys and girls” like me out there that might find it humorous to buy a copy and laugh at my “out of the wrong time period” sense of humor and right and wrong. We are gonna give it a couple months to see how things settle down in the Country before we start travelling around, not in the mood for people to freak out if I’m not wearing a mask on the side of the road changing a flat tire for some lady who is helpless roadside (yes it could be a guy too, don’t get all indignant, told you I was from the wrong time period). Once we start traveling, I hope to post interesting tidbits along the way that others who are traveling around may find useful, even if it is a “do not do this or that” mistake we made that saves someone an issue. I know Peach will be posting all kinds of good things as we travel I am even gonna get her a new faster computer to use to do so (no excuses now, Peach). Been rummaging around through stuff on the internet (what a fresh h*** of grossness and stupidity you can find if you’re not careful what you search for) reading about people making money doing blog posts, that is novel. Not sure I got what it takes to do that but if someone wants me to write a blog post for their business or about a product that I am familiar with, and they want a down to earth honest opinion on, and they are going to pay me for it, then I’m your huckleberry (y’all point them my direction will ya?).

Some of you all will remember Peach and I teach firearms usage and gun safety, we have done this for a while now and its a satisfying pastime, plus brings in a little extra income. We plan to do this even after retirement as we have found that it is something people want and need. As an NRA instructor I have 3 certifications: Certified Home Firearm Safety, Personal Protection in the Home, and Basic Pistol, all of these are important to some folks, and its something we are happy to provide. The cool thing about being an NRA instructor is no matter where in the United States we are, we can sit down and give a class to anyone that wants it, provided we have the necessary safety precautions in place, and in some instances a range to shoot. Another side project I recently took an interest in to perhaps provide a bit of extra income if we need, but more to keep me active and out of the refrigerator (have I mentioned Peach is an EXCELLENT cook?) is becoming a “Home Inspector”, there seems to be a place for me as one, and it is something I could do when I wanted and not do when I was busy with other important matters (like fishing, hunting, napping is very important to me, also), it would require I attended classes either in person or online, and pass several tests (if you knew me you would know how much I dislike tests of any kind), but I think I could manage to do well enough to get licensed in the State to do it. I think I would be good at it as I have knowledge already from life experience and I have a willingness and want to help people. The biggest issue facing Peach and I as with most retirees is health insurance, but with Peach’s smarts and us listening to each others ideas, I believe we have a plan that will let us do what we want when we want without to much hassle.

It would appear from all the ideas about extra income that we are going to be working just as much as we do now, but that’s not the case, all these ideas are what float around in the mind of Batman when he has to much time on his hands. Y’all keep checkin back in, if for no other reason, you can see what scatterbrained ideas I come up with next.

“Now I get to enjoy some of your awesome chili huh, Peach?”

Categories
danger Fear hunting life styles nature peace photography Uncategorized

Hunter or Hunted

Batman Says:

All my life I have, as have millions of others have, hunted things. Be it animals or pictures or items, hunting is ingrained in my soul. I have hunted with my eyes, numerous cameras, rifles, shotguns, bows, crossbows, fishing poles, traps, and cages, you name it and I have probably tried it. The degree of success depends on what you think the outcome should be. There are times when I could walk out my door and trip over something I wanted to hunt, and there have been times that entire seasons have gone by without me getting any game at all. Both to me are victories as I get to participate in a sport/hobby/lifestyle that I love. I have written a few times about being out in the wilds and finding my “peace”, and sometimes it applies when I’m hunting, not always though, as it’s a different mentality to me.

There’s not a lot of danger hunting where I do, yes there are some bear at times, and wild boar, and even a white tailed deer can mess you up if you get it cornered and are careless. But for the most part it’s accidents, the occasional snake or your own clumsiness that will be your undoing. There are ways to make it challenging and even the playing field a bit. The object of hunting is to take game to consume (for me anyways I DO NOT trophy hunt, you can’t eat horns) and to do so in a humane fashion. Granted I could shoot an animal from 500 yards away with today’s modern rifles, but in my humble opinion, this is not hunting in the true sense, it’s more sport shooting. I have NOTHING against this way, it’s just not hunting to me. I prefer the close combat hunting where I pit my stealth, woods knowledge and skill against an animal that lives there, where it knows all the paths and ways. Out foxing a wild animal at close range in its “home” to me is the definition of hunting. Slipping up on a sounder of wild boar within 20,15, 10 yards armed with a bow or crossbow or even a handgun, is thrilling and scary as all get out, especially if all you’re doing is taking photographs and the “weapon” you have is not really adequate to stop a determined charge of a boar or momma sow with piglets. My point in this being, given the right circumstance even modern hunting can be challenging and dangerous. I can describe things like this and people might get it, here wait, come along on a hunt with me and see…

Quietly closing the truck door in the darkness after getting all my gear out and on, I look up and listen to the night sounds. 05:30 am, still at least 2 hours before first light, may have gotten here a bit early today, but it is the first day of the season. Silently slipping into my back-pack and then cocking the crossbow I get set, and take a few quiet moments to look up at the sky full of millions upon billions of stars and thank God for another day. Some days you just feel “it”, there’s something here not quite right today, but you shake it off and begin to make your way to the ground blind that Peach and I set up a few weeks ago, this will be the first stopping point until it gets bright enough to see to legally hunt. Moving slowly along the trail, listening to try and make sure I don’t spook any early morning game on the way to the blind. Hearing the softest sound of a footfall in the palmettos and briars to the side of the trail and immediately freezing, to try and determine what it could be. It’s pitch black, I truly wish there was a better description of the kind of dark it gets in the deep woods before dawn, an inky blackness that blocks all light, it’s like swimming in black paint at times. At times like this it’s the other senses that I trust, closing my eyes I listen, and try to catch a whiff of any scents (animals do have distinct smells and we can sometimes pick up on them) that may be drifting on the almost non existent wind currents. Time slowly ticks past, and here and there the errant mosquito buzzes around and still I stand perfectly still like an old oak tree with its roots firmly sunk in the rich earth. There is a feeling something is there but no sound, no movement, no smell to give it away, so I wait. Slowly the feeling subsides and the night creatures go back to making their soft noises, and I, even though I cannot shake the feeling that I’m being watched, move on down the trail towards the blind. Finally I reach the blind and settle in one of the two camp chairs slowly relaxing and waiting on the first signs of daylight.

Waiting in the blind, listening to the world wake slowly, the feeling is still there, muted, subdued but still there, the feeling of watchfulness. The first hints of daylight start showing through and yet I still wait, not time to move yet, cannot legally hunt. Slowly things start to take shape in the graying light and something moves across the trail I just walked 25-30 yards away, low but moving like silk undulating in the wind without making a sound. What was that? No idea, but it was quick! Silently putting my back-pack on again and picking up my crossbow I emerge from the blind. Put a bolt (crossbow arrow) on the crossbow and stand still preparing to begin my hunting.

Today I’m “still hunting” which unlike its name, involves moving. Taking two preplanned steps I settle and look, slowly all the way around me, starting close up and moving my eyes in ever widening arcs over the terrain. It never ceases to amaze me how animals can be standing right in front of me and I don’t even see them until I make a mistake and get too close or move when I shouldn’t and they bolt. Still hunting brings into play all the senses and skills learned.

Ever so slowly I move in the same pattern, 2 steps, stop, look slowly around me. In this fashion I take a great deal of time to go anywhere. The sun still hasn’t breached the horizon, so the world is a gray pallet and distant things blend into the background. Making it to the fork in the trail I have to decide to either go into the deeper woods or stay along the edge. Today I enter the trail that will eventually take me past a ladder stand and into the woods deeper eventually running into the creek and swamp parts. Slipping deeper into the woods I stop by the ladder stand and just wait, watching an open area where game travels at times, partially due to its location near wild persimmon trees. Squirrels hop about gathering the abundant acorns and chasing each other and I slip quietly on. The sun finally erupts over the horizon behind the trees in a burst of color like blood and orange all across the sky behind the trees lighting the woods. Carefully I move trying not to be noticed by the animals seen and unseen that I know are here as I can see and “feel” them. Freezing mid step I see a flicker of movement ahead, and try to determine what it is. Bird? Or maybe it’s the tail of a feeding white tailed deer. It’s a deer! Walking away it hasn’t noticed me, not in a position to shoot either, walking away, to much growth between us and farther than I like. Winds ok, blowing to me off my right front so it won’t smell me, so I ever so slowly, like the decay of time, inch forward on the trail behind it trying to stay where I can keep it in sight. It’s amazing how they can brush past bushes but make no sound, if I could do that I’d be the most efficient hunter in the world. Despite my trying to, I’m unable to keep the deer in sight and be quiet, so it fades off into the trail ahead, not spooked that I can tell, just feeding along. I slip along, hoping to catch a glimpse but never do again. Breaking through to the edge of the creek line the woods are darker but the undergrowth much thinner, making visibility better but not as much as one would think. Slinking along in the same fashion I make my way through the woods cautiously, stopping every 2 steps just as before.

I stop and watch a raccoon family tromp past and cross the creek 15 yards to my right, never noticing I am there, too involved with whatever thoughts raccoons have. Slowly and steadily, I make my way in a long circle eventually coming back to the opening in the woods, by the persimmon trees, again this time from the opposite side and as I approach the hair on my neck stands up and I know I’m being watched. Freezing in place I start methodically picking apart every piece of cover, searching for whatever it is causing the creepy sensation, my senses in full alert as my heart pounds in my chest so loud I think it’s audible. Nothing! I can’t see…wait There it is, holy cow He’s huge!! And he’s looking right at me!!! Bobcat “Lynx Rufus” aka “red lynx” Florida’s #1 ambush predator, sneaky, stealthy, ghostly killer, efficient at its art. Not normally a threat to humans unless trapped or cornered. This is what I have been “feeling” since I first arrived, why is it not slinking off like normal. Watching it sink lower almost flat to the ground it’s floating shoulder blades allowing it to almost appear flat, claws digging into the ground to get a better grip it is getting ready to charge! Honestly I can’t believe what I’m seeing, leveling the crossbow scope on his shoulder I hear the audible click as the safety clicks off not even realizing I did so and at that instant he explodes from cover, leaping 5′ before I realize, I drop the sights rapidly catching up to him and release the bolt and it travels the 20′ left between us in seconds hitting home and passing completely through. He somersaults mid-stride Breaking off his charge and dashing towards the briars where I hear thrashing and growling for a few more seconds then silence. I had no idea I had backed up so far as I try 3 times before I can get another bolt from the quiver and cock the bow never taking my eyes off the spot I last saw him. Letting my heart sink back outta my throat I finally slowly (and I cannot stress how slowly) I move towards the spot. Scanning scanning don’t see him, gotta be there, where.. there he is, not moving, not breathing. I drag him out and look at him, big “Tom” bobcat, looks healthy, why did he act so odd? Bolt hit him right in the shoulder and passed clean through, he was dead before he knew he was hit. The scared ****less shakes hit, and subside with time and I gather the “cat” and slowly make my way back to the truck. I will skin, and sell the hide as I am also a trapper and bobcats are in season.

Funny how hunting goes, sometimes when we think we are the hunters, we become the hunted. I did nothing to the bobcat mentioned earlier, for some reason he chose to stalk and eventually try me. Today was my day, next time…

I’m a creature of the woods like all the other creatures God put here, I’m at home there as much as I’m at home in my house. I know there are dangers in hunting as in every walk of life, but with the “Armor of God” and faith in Him I will continue to hunt and live my life with Peach.

Next time you get to tag along Peach, 4 eyes see more stuff than 2″