The Club

A Special Club

There is a club you may belong to; I know I do.  A group of men and women with well-worn boots and chaps all tattered on the cuffs.  People prone to staring into the distance who appear to be distracted at times as if they hear something, or have been transported somewhere else.  It’s a club that’s free to join but sometimes the dues can be high.  I have met many members of this club and have never met one I didn’t like.  It’s a club whose members appreciate deeply the smell of the dark earth under the aspen grove, the depth of a bird dogs eyes, the sight of a meadowlark on a rotted fence post or the freckles on the bridge of a tomboy’s nose.

     You probably belong here if that fancy leather journal that you don’t write in enough has gun oil, fly tying cement and Chukar blood stains on it.

            You probably belong here if you have all the latest and greatest in equipment but when the day is closing and the hatch is on the water, you are fishing the same rod you did the last time it was just right.  And the time before that.  And the one before that.

            You probably belong here if you love the sound the bell makes as a bird dog works your favorite cover; unless the dog belongs to a stranger.

            You probably belong here if you have an old coffee can over your work bench with a couple of grouse wings and an old leather glove inside just waiting on that next pup to learn to retrieve. 

            You probably belong here if your dress pants have beggar lice in the cuffs from when you checked out the cover behind the church were your niece got married.

            You belong to this club if you love peepers in the spring, the whippoorwill on a warm summer night or the sound of rain on a tin roof.

            You could be one of us if you know of an old abandoned cemetery deep in the woods where you often stop to eat that last sandwich or an apple.  If you leave the apple core on a grave stone for the squirrels.  If you read the names and maybe make up brief life stories to go with them.

            Are there certain times of the year that make you restless?  Times that awaken a stirring? If so you may be one of us.   

            You probably belong here if every three or four years you hit that hidden brookie stream Just to see that flash of beauty and to feel your hand go numb in that mountain water as you release that small thing of great beauty.  You belong If you have a place like this were you go to renew your soul.

            You probably belong here if on rainy days you check out antique shops and used book shops looking for things dog our fish related.

             You probably belong here if you wish you could put these things into words but you struggle because you know no man made language can describe this God made wonder.