The Greyest Day Ever

 My greyest day happened on my last hunting trip about 10 or 15 miles NW  of Fox Creek. It’s all bush and muskeg out that way. I stopped my quad  in a stand of birch just like this (those may be poplars… but whatever). It was a dreary overcast day and snowing big fat, wet flakes. The silence was almost absolute, the only noise came from a big cow moose browsing on the shrubs about 60 yards away. I sat on the quad, looking at that moose for a time. My back was on fire from a day on the ATV scouting out the lay of the land.  I was frozen as well. I didn’t know it at the time, but my thyroid had decided to stop producing the hormone that the human body uses to regulate its temperature and metabolism. I watched the moose for a time, thinking about the work and bother of dressing and quartering it and packing it out. It would be dark soon. 

We were beside a small pothole of a lake that hadn’t frozen over yet. A pair of swans floated out there on the water, possibly the last ones in the province? The migration had been over for weeks. I had never before experienced such a profound sense of isolation and silence. I realized with a start that I didn’t belong here anymore. I used to live and die for the fall hunting season, the campfire and booze and tents… but now? I had aches and pains, and found myself bored. I used to sling up and practice making good hits at 300 yards… and here was a goofy, dopey swamp donkey at 60 yards, offering a perfect shot I could make in my sleep! None of it felt right. But as a kid I used to dream of being in a spot just like this. I pulled out a cigar and lit up, wondering if the moose would stick around… but she just kept cropping the shrubs. That was the other thing - like an idiot, I had started smoking again. Addicts can tell you all about savouring that smoke in special places, or during special occasions with special folks. I was just feeding a habit and would have to quit. Again. The moose started moving away browse more succulent shrubs. If I was going to shoot, I told myself… now would be a darned good time to do it. But I just sat there on the ATV, smoking a cigar I didn’t really want, in a place that no longer held any real appeal to me… and at length the moose was gone. I could hear her crunching and chewing out there… but a shot would be impossible. I wasn’t overly broken up about it. Kinda relieved, actually…

The swans on the lake left next, beating wings south. I was alone, at a crossroads of sorts in my life, in a position of perfect tranquility and silence. I didn’t know where lose to go, so I turned the quad around, and headed back to camp, knowing I’d passed a milestone in my life, and that I would never be back this way again.