Thursday, October 23, 2008

Shanty Eyes

The fall season brings me one of my favorite pleasures. Other seasons should take note and somehow contribute joy to my life as well. The pleasure I speak of? Hunting. Hunting for chanterelle mushrooms in one of David's secret mountainous spots. As I was driving home from the bar yesterday I saw a jacked up jack ass truck with the license plate 'HUNTIN'. For a moment I felt a kinship with what is undoubtedly a cold blooded warm animal killing red neck. The thrill of the hunt is what connects us. Chanterelle hunting means hitting the mini mart for seasonal beer and wandering around the brush getting muddy while telling exagerrated tales of our greatest hunting expeditions. It can also mean being a bit bummed, despite our fantastic haul, that Linnton's Lighthouse is closed on Sundays. David is the old pro at this game. He was raised by a mushroom hunting father who taught him the ways of the shanty. Such advice as "they grow in packs" and "gills to the forest floor" were wisdom imparted from father to son. What is life if it is not moments like these?

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