Out of the Woods

By MIKE OSTERHOUT

This morning was opening day of bow season. I got up, fixed a cup of tea, took a shower, rigged my bow, climbed up into my stand and didn't see a thing. Not much of a story for an outdoor writer. Let's try again. Yesterday I slept in, got woken up by a bunch of shooting down by the river, borrowed my ex-wife's 20 ga. (she got it in the divorce) and spent the afternoon waiting for ducks at the bend in the river. One lone mallard flew over high and that was about it. Oh yeah, I did run into this fisherman and his dog. We got to talking.

He asked if I knew the land owners and I said I did. I was going to ask him the same thing, but he seemed like a nice old duffer so I didn't even bother. I told him I owned the church up on top of the hill. He said he knew the place and that he remembered me from a time a few years back when I had inquired about an old bell over at Wolf Lake. I had asked the board if they'd be interested in donating the bell to a good cause (that of the little green man). They considered my request and it was promptly denied. "I was on your side," the fisherman assured me. "What the hell were they gonna do with that bell? I was disgusted by the lot of them. I'll work on them for you. After all what's a church without a bell?" I liked this guy.

Then, I don't know why, he asked if I was married. I told him I was divorced. "That's a real shame son. A man shouldn't be alone up in these mountains. Say you shoot a duck, what then? You gotta pluck it and go home alone and cook it. Damned if I've ever been able make one taste edible. It's just a damned shame." Up until I'd run into this guy I'd been having a rather pleasant afternoon. No the ducks weren't flying but I didn't really care. Yes, I was alone, but I wasn't lonely. This guy was putting me into a funk and I had to fight back. "I got a date with a real pretty vegetarian," I countered. He just shook his head and launched into a five-minute diatribe on dating someone who didn't share my interests. "Sure a vegetarian may go to bed with you but what's she gonna do when you want her to whip up a nice venison stew?" I tried to explain it was our first date, but he wasn't listening. I got the feeling he'd had some bad ju ju with vegans.

I looked up and that mallard I mentioned earlier blasted by at twelve o'clock. "How do you know John and Mario?" the fisherman asked after getting all the vegan bashing over with. John and Mario owned the farm we were on. "Actually they are friends of my ex's," I said. "She lives with them." He looked at me like I'd grown a third eye. In a stage whisper that even startled the dog, he confided, "You know they're gay?" I admitted I'd heard rumors to that effect. The dog and I both shook our heads. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. These days, well, Christ-your wife you say?" "Ex," I corrected. "That's a damned shame." I knew he meant well but I had to detour this conversation or bail. "How 'bout those Yankees?" I tried in desperation. "Don't pay no attention," he stated flatly. I had him dead in the water.

Before he headed off he promised to try to convince "that bunch of idiots" to give me the bell. I sat back down on the river bank and discovered my watch laying in the grass. It must've fallen off my wrist when I got up to talk to the man. The sun was going down and I noticed the watch had stopped, I looked down the dirt road along the edge of the corn field and the fisherman and his dog had disappeared. I swear, off in the distance I heard church bells.