I was turkey hunting this morning and as I walked across one of my fields I looked down in the soil and saw a bit of flint that caught my eye... I picked it up and found a perfect arrow tip made by another hunter that had walked the same path hundreds--if not a thousand years ago. I couldn't help but wonder what he would think of our world today, or if he thought the arrowhead that he let fly at some variety of wild game would ever end up in someone's hand again, much less a hand so many years later. I held the arrowhead up and actually felt that I could see it attached to a carefully chosen stick that became an arrow shaft....I imaged what he had looked like, but somehow knew that even though he hunted in order to survive while I hunted for pleasure, as hunters both, with him I felt a bond that has endured across the ages....
We have a great hunting heritage. This morning just helped me appreciate even more where much of it came from....
