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Ronald W. Hull

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The Hunt
by Ronald W. Hull → (All Poetry by Ronald W. Hull)
Saturday, November 25, 2017    Rated "G" by the Author.
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Remembering the joy of wandering off into the woods hunting small game and deer during hunting season. Brought home necessary food for the table. Shooting only older bucks insured that there would be more deer the next year.


Poem Artwork


My twin brother and I with three delicious pheasants from a fall hunt.


The Hunt


The forest opens up this time of year,
there's a chill in the air for ventures so dear.

Walking quiet is difficult on a carpet of leaves,
the rustling signals all creatures beware.

But they are hiding until it is clear.
To come out warily and forage near.

Putting away fat and stores for the winter ahead.
Making sure they can spend it in a warm bed.

Smoke rises in the distance, joining rotting leaves.
Acrid smell of autumn rekindles ancient beliefs.

Hunter sits quietly and waits for the sound.
A squirrel, a partridge, rabbit, turkey come 'round.

Shoots with skill to make a clean kill,
not wanting the animal to suffer any ill.

A time-honored pastime to put food on the table,
all men and boys used to hunt if they were able.

The greatest feeling is to spot a big brash buck,
emerge from the forest for those that have luck.

Heart races as the antlers come into range,
kill must be quick, pull the trigger so strange.

Gun's report echoes through the valley and trees,
he runs for a bit, then mighty buck falls to his knees.

The family won't go hungry this winter of cold.
With warm blankets of fur and venison to behold.

Copyright 2017 © Ronald W. Hull

11/23/17

You can read this format my website here.

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 Reviews of "The Hunt"
Reviewed by Amber Moonstone
Reviewed on December 1, 2017
Ronald,
Very nicely written. I am not a hunter, but I can appreciate your descriptive passages.
Happy Holidays,
Peace love and light,
Amber

Reviewed by Susanne Leist
Reviewed on November 29, 2017
I can't help it, but I feel bad for the buck.

Reviewed by Jms Bell
Reviewed on November 27, 2017
AND THAT'S HOW IT SHOULD BE DONE...NOT FOR THE SPORT OF IT BUT TO LIVE AND NOT WASTE, USING EVERY BIT OF WHAT GOD HAS PROVIDED. WELL DONE AND ENJOYED. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS.

Reviewed by David Thompson
Reviewed on November 27, 2017
Ron,



This is such a nice piece...words from the heart. I can feel your drifting back to an earlier time, when all was well with the world. Thanks so much for the nostalgic read. I thoroughly enjoyed it.



David

Reviewed by Jerri Blair
Reviewed on November 27, 2017
You paint the picture of the hunter in the forest so beautifully. It brings back memories of my tromps through the woods with hunters.

Reviewed by John Herlihy
Reviewed on November 25, 2017
Hunting is something I have never done; but you conjure up the ambiance quite well here. Great photo by the way.

Reviewed by John Bidwell
Reviewed on November 25, 2017
I felt like I was there with you.
Perhaps poets are family.
Beautiful writing- fond memories.

John

Reviewed by Jerry Bolton
Reviewed on November 25, 2017
I was raised where it was assumed to be "manly" to go hunting. I bucked the odds and refused to hunt. My father didn't hunt, in fact he never owned s gun as far as I know.

Reviewed by Tiffany Simar
Reviewed on November 25, 2017
Love the picture and really enjoyed this piece :)

Reviewed by Budd Nelson
Reviewed on November 25, 2017
like you I was raised and taught to hunt and fish for food, and did with glee for years. like Odin below I earned high marks in both rifle and pistol in the Marine Corps (not the reserves though) and as such not all my targets were straw or heavy paper. but I put those things behind me decades ago, and also find much fault in the supposed hunters of today in general.

you have written well of bygone days. as fine a piece of writing as any of yours are.

Reviewed by Michael Schafer
Reviewed on November 25, 2017
I only hunted 2 legged dears, and they've proved to be more dangerous than any other game.

Reviewed by Donald Roberts
Reviewed on November 25, 2017
Very sad indeed, but well written.

Reviewed by Odin odin@aflx.com
Reviewed on November 25, 2017
Reminds me of my father who was a hunter and always impressed upon me and my mother that he hunted only for food. As the years have passed, I've grown to be against the "hunter" of today, who, for the most part,
is trophy hunting, be it antlers, rabbit tails, taxidermy et al. I find I'm not judgemental nearly as much as I'm disappointed that hunting has/is becoming something different from my father's influence and my growing up days. Even though I achieved my rifle expert badge in the Marine Corp reserves, I only had to excel on targets of straw, or cardboard. I'm thankful I never had to use the weapon in battle.


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