It was late June in South Carolina. My sun-burned, sweat drenched arms reached out to the steering wheel of the tractor. The mix of diesel exhaust and Off bug spray mixed together with the aroma of fresh turned Carolina dirt had become my new cologne. I was happy.
I find something very satisfying about work that makes you sweat, especially when it serves the better purpose of improving hunting grounds. Call it glorified grunt work, but I am at my best when I am covered in dirt, grease, bug spray, and enough body sweat to warrant a bath outside with the hose before coming inside for a proper shower.
It’s a conundrum of sorts, anyone who knows me knows my complete disdain for anything summer. But I do love that summer time work. Give me a tractor and disk and point me to that tangled field that has laid over since last fall. I won’t care how long it takes. I might even disk it twice for good measure. Hand me a chainsaw and let me clear that path that’s overgrown. I’ll do it with a smile on my face and wood chips down my shirt. Show me the beaver dam that needs to be busted up so that the ducks will have some food for the fall. When the work is done and the water is draining, let me help spread the seed, legs laboring, on top of the thick, muck soil.
At the end of the day, let me look over the work that has been done, that tangible result right before my eyes. I’ll imagine the buck walking from the far corner, or the wood ducks singing in the pre-dawn light, or the September doves gliding over burnt sun flowers. It may be June right now, but in my mind it’s getting already getting cooler.
The Fall Experience 