The Hunting Life

Trey Luckie says he is never more at peace than when he is outdoors with a gun cradled in his arms, walking along with his bird dog hunting wings, or sitting in a tree stand watching the sunset as deer feed in a dark, green food plot he prepared.

The first hint of cooler weather has tickled south Georgia, and the trees are slowly starting to show signs of trading in their green shady canopies for future burn-pile fuel in hints of orange, red and yellow. The corn has been picked and the fields have hosted early season dove shoots with the popping of finely crafted shotguns ringing over the late-evening pink horizon. The peanuts are being turned over daily in preparation of the thrashing they will receive when they are harvested with red and green combines spitting out their discarded vines and dumping the nuts into waiting wagons bearing the name of the local peanut and grain buyer. The cotton has been sprayed, and the dried-up leafy foliage is opening its camo curtain to reveal fields of snow-white bulbs that will be gathered around the time that deer hunters are climbing into their tree stands in October. All of this tells me that fall is here in south Georgia and my heart knows it’s hunting season.

It is very hard to express the feelings of those who have the pleasure of living “The Hunting Life.” People outside of our world do not understand the emotional ties and bonds that we as hunters feel with the outdoors and the game that we pursue. I am never more at peace with myself or my world than I am when I am outdoors with a fine gun cradled in my arms walking along with my bird dog hunting wings or sitting in a tree stand watching the sunset as deer are feeding in a dark, green food plot that I prepared. Being outside in this environment for me is being as close to God as I can get. I know God made this world, and I am more than happy to allow myself to be immersed in its beauty that can be found on a pine hill in south Georgia or a 2-mile-long field of milo under the bright blue skies of Kansas.

However, I don’t just get caught up in the moments that I am in the field.  The Hunting Life consumes me in just about everything I do. If it’s not hunting season, then I am waiting for hunting season. From September through March, when one season ends, I prepare for the other. It’s the summer months that are hard to live with as I wait for fall to arrive. I often find myself cleaning my guns as I recall great hunting memories with every one of them. I constantly scan magazines and read about hunting all over the country. I sit up late and watch hunting shows to see them chasing longbeards, big bucks and fast-flying game birds. I long to be a part of it.

Sometimes as I sit and “look for answers that ponder me so” (I stole that from Jimmy Buffet), I find myself wondering why The Hunting Life gets to me on such a deep level. I think I know the answer, and I will give it to you, but I challenge you to take a moment and ask yourself that same question. Why is The Hunting Life so important to those who participate in it? I think the self-reflecting will do all of us hunters some good and just might help deepen the relationship we have with the outdoors.

Here is why I think The Hunting Life tugs at my soul. Memories of the perfect hunt. We all have memories of the perfect day in the field. Those kinds of days where we think that it just can’t get any better than this. But you know what we do? We go hunting again and try to relive those precious memories afield, and at the same time we are constantly creating new memories. It’s a never-ending cycle. Each and every hunting experience has the opportunity to be our next “perfect” hunt. I have so many perfect days stored in my memory banks that I can recall on a regular basis.

• The first time I sat by myself on a dove field killing two birds with a single-shot .410.

• The first deer I ever shot and how I yelled with excitement ruining the rest of the hunt for other hunters in the area.

• The first time I ever killed more birds than my dad.

• Quail hunting on my granddaddy’s farm with my dad, uncles and cousins.

• The deer hunting trips with a camper full of friends.

• My first turkey hunt is one for the ages!

• Shooting an 8-point while my 5-year-old son was in the stand with me.

• Drinking the coldest beverage imaginable with your best friend as the sun goes down after the last shoot of an epic dove season.

• And on and on and on…..

This author says this is just one of hundreds, if not thousands, of memories made while hunting. This Ben Hill County buck from 2009 was the first time Trey’s son Reid was in the deer stand with him.

If you think about the adrenalin spent on these hunting adventures and the excitement felt at the end of the day, then it is easy to understand that a hunter’s body and soul could just possibly crave and need that rush. We want it and we want to share it with others, especially those that we love.

During the off season, we spend time away from the sport that we love, and we start to miss it. By the time fall comes around, our craving for the outdoors and a shotgun in our hands has reached a fever pitch, and we are overcome with anxiety and a strong need to get back out there and do the thing we love the most.

That’s why I am glad I’m a hunter. That’s why I live for fall!

I live The Hunting Life.  How about you?