Ugh. The dreaded alarm. 5:15 am. A favorite Ryan Bingham song, quickly becomes less favorable as it wakes me from sleep. I set that song in an attempt to making an alarm mess of an enemy. Snooze. 8 more minutes. Who decided a snooze should be 8 minutes? Again, Lover Girl begins to play and in disgust I Snooze again. And one more time 8 minutes later, because the third time is the charm and I’m really comfortable.
My eyes are barley open and I hear rain on my tin roof. Oh it’s raining! I could lay in bed and listen to the rain, warm and cozy. Sip coffee and watch Netflix because I am emotionally involved with Wentworth right now. I could catch up on laundry and housework while the house is empty. I could do all these things, because it’s raining.
BUT two days ago, two shooter bucks stood at my camera on and off all day long. Last week, a wide, spindlely 8 pointer came in at 9:30 am. Rain makes the trek in quieter. Rain knocks down scent. Rain can wash away a blood trail QUICK. Rain can be a hunters best friend or worst nightmare.
Coffee brewing while I shower to get scent free. Camo freshly washed and ready to go. Lunch packed with snacks a 7 year old would grab. Hardy Facepaint on because I’m white as snow and glow in any light like a Twilight vampire. And I’m on the road to sit in the rain, and pray it’s my best friend today.
The only sound was rain on my walk in. Branches christening me as I slipped through the woods. By the light of a soft glowing headlamp, I unpack and set up my gear. Settled in, I open the shooting windows of my blind and get comfortable. This could take a while. Birds first songs of Saturday, rustling chipmunks and chattering grey squirrels. But this rain, this rain on my blind roof, is so much better than laying in bed and watching Netflix.
Hunting is so much more than the harvest. It’s an experience that is hard to put into words. Being in nature, watching and hearing the world wake up in the morning or go to bed at dark, it’s good for your soul.
-Erin Bingham
