Food for thought... I stepped out of the truck tonight and started to do the usual routine, having pulled into my uncles property. Hunting clothes, gearing up, binoculars, range finder, gloves, boots, etc. Felt good to suit up for the hunt tonight. Brisk wind just chilly enough to wear my favorite warm hunting hat. I usually don't wear it until around halloween but hey it is cool enough now. Bow case comes out of the truck, snap in my quiver. I am ready. I can't help but think of my uncle we just lost to cancer, while all of this happens. Walk down the 2 track winding it's curve into the timber. Some early yellow leaves down on the trail leading in. I notice an old ash tree, that had fallen down and started to rot. I had cut off part of this ash to heat my first home with my woodstove. I see it's going down good now after 5 years. Round the curve and come to the opening, I see our small little camp. 2 buildings, one in serious need of a roof and the other needs new paint for the wood siding. Sounds like a good project for next summer. I remember moving the small barn into place 10 years ago and how my uncle repaired it and made it nice again. A modest barn, where we cook chili on opening day, swap stories and donuts, and talk about the buck that got away. It's a perfect spot, with a warm woodstove and propane for a stove if we need it. A few chairs and a small couch, nothing fancy but it's just right for our crew. Many of my early opening firearm season mornings I spent at this small camp. Through the pitch blackness of night at the back of a pickup we did the same things. Prepared for the hunt and walked over to the barn. Meet up with the guys and talked for awhile, before the 4 wheelers would start with beaming headlights into the forest. We would head our seperate ways for the hunt. Opening mornings were treasured. Nestled into our spots, it wouldn't be long as the November sun peaked, that you can hear the first shot ring out. Then the ATV would start, here comes Uncle. Down the trail to drag his or others buck back to camp. Teasing and harassment usually accompanied the lucky sportsman, as to who shot first and who was buying breakfast for the guys. A quick gut job on the buck and it was off to breakfast. These are memories that I hold, special to me because I lived them. A boy learning from others, how to be an outdoorsman, how to hunt, and what makes it special. It's the morning sun shining on the timber floor, as the frost melts away and crashing bucks chase the does in early November. It's your cousin, or uncle, aunt, niece, sister, parent or friend, Who shot there first buck and can't wait to show you. It's someone else smiling while posing for a photo with there trophy deer. It's the youngster who is just learning about the land where deer and turkeys live, and how to hunt them. It's you, taking others into the wilderness and providing them an opportunity at the same thing that you love, being outdoors with friends and family. As I continued to view this small camp and the memories and fun of all that we did, I realized it couldn't have happened without someone who gave back. He gave back to us, so we could enjoy what he had on this glorious property. It posed the thought, what kind of legacy are we leaving? For our familes and others? God gave us a gift, he gave us back life when he sent Jesus down for us. Our everlasting life wouldn't have happened without His sacrifice. He did it so we could live in heaven if we believe. Just sitting in a tree tonight with a cell phone and a thankful heart. Have a great hunt!