Summer’s almost gone. A part of me now rouses itself from its hibernation. The weather has yet to cool but already I can feel this primal thing inside me warming my blood. The fever will be coming on soon.

There are others out there who know this thing like I do, especially in Oklahoma.  There are others still who will never understand the thrill of the hunt like this.

I can already almost taste the crisp, silent air that comes in the black morning hours before sunrise. I will step as quietly as I can into the woods. I’ll weave through the forest guided by instinct alone beneath the light of the moon, hearing the forest creeping and alive around me as I take my place — this place where I will wait in stillness, allowing this great ancient thing for which there are no words to permeate through me. My mind and my soul will quiet and if on that day I am blessed, as dawn breaks, I will hear the sound.