The Last Day
The alarm jarred me out of sleep. It was December 8, 2024, the last day of Northern Zone rifle season in New York. I had been going straight-out since mid-October, never missing a day and out of bed every morning before 4:30. Although I had loved every minute of every day, my body was finally beginning to feel the aches and pains associated with bushwhacking through swamps, scaling cliffs, climbing mountains, and crossing rivers. With the exception of two travel days, I had found myself in the woods every day from sun-up until sundown. While I've heard many others say they've done the same, I've often doubted it because I know how difficult a task it is to accomplish. The embers in the wood stove shone brightly as I cracked the door open and stacked a few pieces of wood on top of the burning coals. Although the fire was just about gone, the fresh flow of air gave it some life, and there was a slim chance of hope that the newly added wood would catch fire and bu...