Staying Downwind

                “By-God if you’re gonna pick your feet like a monkey…you do it downwind!’

  -Bluebonnet “Boss” Spearman

    Open Range

     It’s one of the funnier lines from one of my favorite movies. Boss Spearman (played wonderfully by Robert Duval) is chastising his young hand “Button.” Button is a young kid who Boss saved from a life of poverty and who now works for him. Boss is both his employer and his de facto father. He dutifully gathers his sock and his boot and nudges his horse downwind a few yards, and another life lesson is learned.

     Being downwind is on my mind these days. Ten days from today, I’ll be in a tree stand for the first time in thirty-six years. When I hunted as a young boy and a young adult, I split my time between the stand and the floor of the forest. I liked to walk the woods and see the signs of the deer in the neighborhood. I always tried to be mindful of the wind and remain downwind of where I thought the deer would be. Sometimes you get it right, and sometimes you get it wrong and they smell you before you ever see them.

     Now, I’ve never been one to go overboard in putting too high a value on scent and scent blocker. Especially during the rut, when most bucks are so randy you could wear a suit made of pine tree air fresheners and they’d still take the chance to get near a doe. So maybe I’m not that careless about scent…but I think you get the picture. I’m not marching out into the field covered in Old Spice, nor am I keeping my hunting clothes “hermetically sealed in a mayonnaise jar on Funk and Wagnall’s back porch” to quote the great Johnny Carson.

     I’ve done my best hunting and had my greatest success from a stand. A stand gets you up and out of the dense ground cover. It broadens your view and…it keeps you essentially downwind, regardless of which way the wind is blowing. A stand keeps you up and out of sight. I remember an episode of “In The Heat of The Night” where Carroll O’Connor’s character was giving a life lesson to one of his deputies and he used deer hunting as the teaching tool. He explained why we hunt from tree stands. “Now, the deer has no natural enemies in the trees. So, he normally doesn’t look up to spot danger.” I don’t know if Carroll O’Connor ever hunted, or if the script writer ever did, but it was sage advice. Your best bet when pursuing a wary prey is to hide where they won’t look.

     I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of weeks as deer season approaches. Thinking about being downwind. I’m downwind of middle age now. (I just turned 55) In December I’ll be 20 years downwind of a painful divorce that shook my soul and reshaped the rest of my life. I’m downwind of some hard years when a business failed, and losses piled up.

Downwind of some relationships that needed to go, and sadly…some that I wish were still active.

     I’ve learned the value -stubborn as I am—of accepting the facts about some things and just getting downwind of them. It was hard to just let go of the harm done by my ex and her (now second ex) husband and just move on, but I had to in order to get downwind. It was hard letting go of the sting of the crash of ’08 but I had to get downwind and move on.

     Lately, for the last few months or so, I’ve been realizing more and more how I’ve allowed fear to paralyze me. The last economic downturn was horrible for me and for my daughter. It took a long time to find a decent job again and once I found one, I’ve found myself slowly being constricted by it like a python, in exchange for the relative security of a steady paycheck every two weeks. I’ve worked where I work for four years now and it’s the longest time I have ever been in a non-commissioned role in my life. I have always made my own money and always risen or fallen as a direct result of my efforts.

     I yearn to face that challenge again, but I find the fear of the unknown, or rather the not-guaranteed, is very great and its power is strong. I’ve been afraid to do what I know I need to do if I’m ever going to have a life that resembles -even remotely—what I hold in my heart. I want a home again. I want time to write more books and work on cars in my own garage and be around people a little more. My current job -and all the side jobs I must do to supplement my income—is not conducive to this life I seek. So, I need to make some decisions.

     Next Saturday I’ll be climbing up into a tree stand to place myself downwind of the thing I seek. The height provides me with a clearer view, a sharper angle, a keener sense of what is moving. I can hear a little more, see a lot more, and I can be downwind of the prize I'm after. I can watch it, and study it, and decide whether it’s the one I want, or if I’ll wait for another one to come by. There are times when  buck looks big and his rack looks record-breaking because your view is hindered by the thicket. But up high, you can discern better whether you want this one or not.

     While I’ll be seeking this position next week, I’m also seeking it in life. Now, especially as I’m downwind of youth and every shot must count, I’m looking for a stand in a tall tree, above the trails and ruts and beds of the things I am looking for. Up where I can take it all in, think about it, and then take my shot.

     I think that’s the lesson I’m learning as I return to the woods for the first time in so many years. And I think it’s one of the reasons we hunt, besides filling a freezer, of course. Because it takes us back to something elemental in our lives. There are life lessons we can learn, regardless of our age or how many times we’ve come to these woods and fields. I’m learning that I need to find my stand. To get up above the normal view of those things I am after; success, a home, an adult relationship with my now-twenty-year-old daughter (it was easy when she was six and I was her hero) maybe even love again. I need a place above where those things are looking, so I can take the shots and make them my next trophies.

     I’m seeking a spot downwind. Downwind from something much more than a high-scoring buck. Downwind from the things that have brought me to where I am, and the things that might be preventing me from going where I want to go.