The preparation through the summer in anticipation of that fist crisp day when the leaves start to show shades of orange and red.

The butterflies in my gut as the season approaches.

The drive to my "camp" where my brother, my dad and I all have met every fall for the past 20 years. The camp the we built, maintain and a place where I became best friends with my dad.

The old gate that keeps the road untraveled for most of the year and the big deep breath I take when I get out of my truck to unlock it. Peace? Therapy? Call it whatever you want, but it is a necessity in my life.

The camp sets behing some twenty year old pines that we drove over when we laid the first block and drove the first nail. Those same pines hide the camp and there branches now allow us to hang our deer in them.

The creek of the old front door and the familiar smell as I enter. On the wall are our stories, our bets won and our bets lost. There shadows cast a texture to the living room floor and walls. They are like old friends that remind us of days past and days to come.

The hum of the old cast iron wood burner. The crackle and poping as the woodbegins to provide warmth to my heart and to the camp.

The conversation and stories that are shared. The catching up that is done inside the camp walls and the building of family friendships and love and respect.

The long restless night prior to opening day and the awakening of the the old wind up clock and the smell of morning coffee.

The cool morning air and the sunrise that greets me and the woods. The shadows that play tricks on my eyes every year as the sun hits the trees and the branches.

The hunt is almost secondary and if an animal is taken.....it's a bonus. Hunting means so much more to me than just the size of the horns. Money and a 150 class buck will not compromise what I enjoy......

Just basic thought from a basic "hunter".....................