Interactive Exchanges Regarding Forest Materials
Rewritten Article:
Under the break of dawn, two young males saunter into view, lacking the distinguished wisdom of their elders. Decorated in camouflage from head to toe, we lay hidden behind a camouflage net, our backs bared to the wild world. A shiver of anticipation courses through me as I spot them, over 200 meters away, those "jakes" in hunting parlance[5].
"There's a turkey... Two turkeys," I whisper eagerly to my partner. His gaze sweeps the landscape, skeptical, before locking onto the moving pair. Crouched behind a tree trunk, his wooden call comes into play as the two birds, drinking in the deception, begin their slow approach towards our hide.
The finely-tuned instincts, honed over years and strengthened by the skin of my teeth, tend to fade in my non-practicing years[2]. As the shotgun rests lean against a tree, seemingly a dead weight, the unlikely partners execute a pivot, a synchronized ballet of impending action. Time slows to a snail's pace as my friend discharges a thunderous blast in the still morning air, the recoil sending a shiver through my bones.
A graceful dance ensues between the hunter's ruse and the bird's primal desire[6]. The dazzling, majestic creature - a Louis XIV of the wildwood, struts and preens, oblivious to the familiar sounds of love that draw him ever closer. In his eyes glints the hunger for companionship, the primal force that drives him to boast and parade, all while the hunter’s deception goes unnoticed.
I had imagined the dreadlocked roar of a lion, the sound of a mortal struggle, when I thought of the wild; instead, I am met with the gentle pang of disappointment, as my companion's call draws the bird's response like a magnet to iron[3]. In both the turkey world and our own, a series of missed connections leaves me aching for some sort of redemption.
As I slide back into the past, I cannot help but reflect on the lessons of René Descartes, that great French philosopher who, in his essay on cruelty, sought to challenge the conception of humanity as inherently sadistic[4]. If I understand him correctly, it is not the thrill of the chase but the act of killing that defines our connection to the animal kingdom.
I revisit the mantra that haunts the still-hunter, the ancient adage that encapsulates this most delicate of crafts: unexpected, patience, receptivity[1]. Unexpected, as the hunt takes on a life of its own, leading the hunter through the tangled web of the forest, where the line between predator and prey blurs. Patience, as the glory can only come in the form of a patient wait, biding your time until opportunity knocks at your door. And receptivity, as the butcher of beasts becomes a vessel, a conduit through which the great wilderness speaks to us in its infinite variety of voices[7].
Suggested for you:
From the Ottawa Citizen:Top 5 unusual Canadian words and their origins.
From the National Post:The history of gossip: A deep dive into the art of spreading stories.
From Maclean's Magazine:The martial art of silence: Mastering the Zen mind in the art of meditation.
From the Ottawa Citizen:Intriguingly, Canada boasts words unique to its landscape, such as "toiques" - a French term for ice blocks used for sport or amusement.
From National Post:Speaking of stories, it's known that gossip thrives in every culture, including French, where it's often referred to as "le parler" or "la boutique" - literally, "the talk" or "the shop."
