A GLOWING CAMPFIRE
We make our way quietly through the woods along a forgotten path. The treetops are sighing, and the damp ground retains the moisture of yesterday’s quiet rain. Like a green blanket, widespread moss covers rocks and ruins from the past. A bit into the woods we catch a glimpse of an abandoned stone wall. The land here has not been worked for a long while. But then an opening in the woods appears.
HUNTING A ROEBUCK ON A MISTY MORNING
The morning is overcast. The mist hangs over the fields and meadows as I silently and carefully make my way through the woods. I stop as usual at the Fluxfallet waterfall and taste the ice-cold water. It feels special to quench my thirst right there at the water’s edge. Bordering a clearing is an old stone wall that I know makes a good hiding place. Roe deer tend to pass on the other side of the meadow. If I am quiet and careful enough, and if the wind direction is right—as I have calculated it to be today—then there is a good chance I’ll bring a buck home.