The opening day of rifle season. Deer run back and forth through the laurel—each shift of the wind must bring a different human’s stink.
The view from my front porch first thing in the morning, in 140 or fewer characters.
Tag Archives: hunters
The still, gray morning is interrupted...
The still, gray morning is interrupted by the throaty roar of a pickup truck full of hunters hauling an enormous homemade wooden tree stand.
Halfway up the ridge, a flashlight...
Halfway up the ridge, a flashlight bobs through the trees, stops, goes out. Then the rustling thuds of hooves in dry leaves. Then silence.
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