Frozen Silly BY: M.D. Mynhier Ice ebbed outward from the banks on both sides of the narrow stream that fed into the North Fork of Triplett. It was late December and deer season, for the most part, was over and I had been lucky enough to have used my tags on a nice buck plus put a couple of fat does in the freezer. I was in my chest waders, two pair of long johns and my heavily insulated camouflaged hunting bibs as I crunched through the ice to test the water. The sky was overcast and steel gray and the gurgling water a deeper, darker gray than the sky. Snow edged every limb and outlined the edges of leaves and deadwood along the ground. The limestone boulders were shinny with a skim of smooth ice and icicles hung long and skinny from the outcropping limestone cliff banks. I held my shotgun in the crook of my left arm as I moved carefully, scooting my feet along the bottom. My plan was to wade upstream and jump-shoot a limit of ducks on this cold afternoon. I was enjoying the feel of crisp air on my face and as long as I kept moving, the chill of the water was not too bad. There was not much of a breeze and when the wind did blow, it was soft and rattled the few leaves that were still clinging to the limbs and that was the only way I knew a breeze was blowing. As the day grew long, I noticed the ice was growing from both banks toward the middle but I saw no reason for worry. Ice had formed on my mustache and I grinned at the thought I may end up with icicles hanging from my upper lip. I could walk out of the stream looking like a frozen walrus from the Ice Age. I had been in the creek over two hours and had not jumped a duck. I was beginning to question my choice of streams for an afternoon duck hunt. In the back of my mind, I knew that around the next bend, there they would be, or at worst, with sunset coming, they should be flying after a day of feeding and settle in for the night. At some point, it became a game I was playing inside myself. My legs had become so cold that it was difficult to walk. The game was to stick it out until dark or freeze solid trying. I no longer cared about shooting ducks. All I wanted to do was win the game. The ice sheets had grown out from both banks to the point they had forced me to wade down the center of the stream. The day dimmed slowly as I kept to the game I intended to win. The ice kept growing and my path became narrower and I kept going, forcing each leg to move forward a little at a time until I had made a few more yards. It had become a full scale war for me to hold to my decision to stay in the stream until dark. I could see the day leaving as everything around me was growing darker. Soon, it happened, darkness arrived. I had been watching the sky so intently that I had not noticed the surface had frozen together and I was standing in the middle. This time I laughed out loud and my predicament. I looked around and I was the only thing in the stream not frozen solid. I had won the game and now I had to find a way to get myself to dry land. After a moment of considering my options, I realized I had but one. I took the shotgun by the forearm with my left hand as if I were going to take aim and shoot and then, wrapped my right hand around the grip behind the trigger guard and used the butt like as an icebreaker. The closer to the bank, the thicker the ice but the old oak stock of my Browning A-5 stood the test as I pounded and cracked ice all way to the shore. Later that evening, as I sat near the fireplace watching the weather on TV, the weatherman gave the high temperature of the day as six degrees below zero. Some hunts test a man in ways he never expected. For me, hunting has never been about the taking of game. Hunting is about learning about one’s abilities and the depth of one’s heart. It is about beating the elements when they are attempting to kill you. Signed copies of my novel “Where Islands Are” are $10.99 while they last, plus $5.01 postage making the total $16.00. Make your check or money order payable to M.D. Mynhier. Mailing address: Where Islands Are, 2395 Harbor Blvd, Condo 218, Port Charlotte, FL 33952 You can also find my novel, “Where Islands Are”@amazon books for Kindle and in paperback
Posted on: Tue, 17 Sep 2013 23:42:45 +0000
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