Get Outside, Where You Belong
One morning, while sitting around the table in a fairly warm deer camp barn before we all headed out to hunt, a friend who was dressed too warmly for the room said, "I need to get outside where I belong."
As I sat perched in a tree stand an hour later, his words resonated with me. Today, so many people spend the majority of their lives indoors, in an invented environment. Nature and the beauty of the great outdoors is forgotten - and, worse, is a gift never given to children.
We humans are made with an innate love for the outdoors which, if nurtured, leads to a richer life. We love the Grand Canyon, fall colors, the ocean. We love waterfalls and geysers and volcanoes. Our planet is a source of wonder and awe that we are hard-wired to admire.
The only way to appreciate a cold morning in fall woods is to be there. Where I sit as I write this, I see rolling terrain, a mixture of hardwood trees, and leaves of green, brown, gold, amber, crimson, and blood red. I see a small creek, a forest floor carpeted with fallen leaves, old tree limbs, and acorns. I can see my breath, and intricate whorls and crevices in the bark of the tree to which my climbing stand is attached.
I'm outside, where I belong.
Getting outside doesn't always happen, unfortunately. Most folks stay indoors and don't see or enjoy these things. And much of the time, that's because they never learned to appreciate being there - because nobody took them.
I'm writing this article on my phone, thumb-typing between photo ops.
I'm perched high in a comfortable tree stand in November during deer season. In a way, this is my office.
I cannot think of a richer blessing, and I have my father to thank. He is the one who took me away from reading in my room and showed me how to love being away from buildings, away from people, away from home, and out in the elements. (I still enjoy a good book - but mainly in the off-season.)
Most hunters have had someone similar in our lives, someone who showed us the way of the great outdoors. Whenever possible, we need to be that person for someone else.
Imagine a life without hunting, empty and comfortable and bland. No trembling in a tree as whitetails mill around below. No shivering in a duck blind waiting for birds. No knife-edge anticipation of action, no flurry of activity when a buck chases a doe past you, no head-to-toe rush from a flood of adrenaline when you finally get your chance and lay one down.
Imagine a life indoors.
If that notion disturbs you as much as it does me, I suggest you do two things.
First, find someone to mentor and to teach the merits of the great outdoors.
Then, get outside, where you belong.
- Russ Chastain
See Also: