Autumn

This postcard kind of sums up the season for me. For many people, hunting is a throwback to the kind of primal stalking and killing that was once necessary for survival. You put on an orange vest, load your rifle, bring your dog or kid or whatever and disappear into the woods and don't come out again until you've killed something. My own grandfather had to go hunt deer and small game to put food on the table when he was no older than 12. I, however, have never had that experience. For me, hunting is very much like the postcard depicted above. I slink off into the woods wearing a green velvet cap, smoking a corncob pipe with my gun tucked under my arm, my simian son following behind me with a bottle of wine and a pair of rabbits stalking us the entire way. It's a directionless and often unfruitful style of hunting, but I much prefer it to any actual bloodshed.