Even if you’re not a hunter, you know that “skunked,” as in many other pursuits from cribbage to baseball, means you didn’t score. Birds one, hunter zero.
And while we often console ourselves with the cliché, “it’s not about shooting birds,” blah, blah, blah, it really is about shooting birds. Or is it?
A birdless trip opens your eyes to the rest of the outdoor world, from the merganser brood bobbing past, to the subtle whiff of pastel green as you brush against a sagebrush. You may sulk for a while, putter in your vest, but soon you actually do find better things to think about.
Like the play of sunlight on moving water. Blue sky contrasted with snowcapped peaks. The earnestness with which your dog performs his age-old job. How about the fact that you can visit such places, stand on a rocky mountain top and marvel at a three-state view?
Or something simpler, like spotting a Bohemian Waxwing for the first time, and knowing there are still places and things awaiting your discovery. Come to think about it, who needs a shotgun?
I’ll bet last time you were skunked, you got something memorable out of the trip. What was it?
