Walking in the Woods.

When I first started hunting, I was just a little fellow. Excited to be in the woods - the great big woods. Happy to be engaged in pursuit of wild animals which were much better than I at woodcraft. Thrilled to be trusted in such a weighty way. And energetic - oh, lord, was I energetic.

Sitting in the woods was fine for some folks. I would even do it myself from time to time, if I had to. Well, okay, sometimes I would even sit still by choice - but not as a rule. I always wanted to see what was around that next bend in the trail, what was behind that clump of palmettos.

After a year or so of hunting with Dad, I was allowed to move off on my own sometimes. I imagine Dad saw that I was too restless to enjoy sitting by his side all the time, and he knew that I could be trusted not to blast myself or someone else. At any rate, I was allowed to wander - and wander I did.

I followed any trail I could find, creating a map in my head of where I was and where I'd been. I didn't bag much game, but I sure did get to know my way around the woods. I recall one hunt when I was thirteen or fourteen years old, when I walked the woods from one main road to another and back, following twisting, winding, and often brush-choked trails, in less time than I would later spend sitting on a stand on a given morning or afternoon. Those roads were roughly three miles apart, as the crow flies - and I ain't no crow.

Eventually I learned some patience - and trust me, it was truly a slow learning process - and got to where I could stay put for a while. This was when I finally began to find and take deer.

But I still liked to wander. Often, my first trip to a new area would find me walking miles - literally - around stands of planted sand pines in various stages of growth. Learning the lay of the land, looking for sign. After this recon, I would have a better idea of where I wanted to hunt.

I still like to sit on a stand and watch critters as they move past. I enjoy that immensely, and that's how I have taken the most game over the years. But sometimes, the familiar old itch starts getting under my skin, and nothing will do but for me to climb down and start slew-footing through the boonies, the way I did as a skinny lad in my youth.

It's one of the best ways to learn your way around the woods, and that's a fact. There's nothing like a good walking tour to tell you what's out there and what kind of critters have been there.

Knowing that no matter how careful I am I'm likely to spook more game than I'll see, I just can't help myself. I guess it's just in my blood. Or maybe I'm just looking for the long-lost hiding place where the big, tall-racked, ancient whitetail bucks hang out. Who knows? One of these days I might even find it.

Until then, I guess I'll just keep wandering the woods, hunting for whatever lies beyond the next bend in the trail, or behind that clump of palmettos. If you should happen to see me coming, give a whistle or a wave, and I'll get out of your hair. -Russ Chastain