I love bird dogs whose reason for being is finding birds and they look at you as you come abreast of them by rolling their eyes until you see the whites without them moving their heads.
I love the covey flush which gets your chest pounding and your adrenaline going as if it is your first covey.
I love the rise of a trout or better yet the hidden wink of the take of a dead drifted nymph.
The pull of a salmon as the fly swings on a drift.
The feeling you feel as you realize that you will soon have the moose dead to rights after a tense 20 minute stalk and you look asking, is he there? he should be there and then you see him bigger than anything you had imagined.
Sunsets,woodsmoke, leather, canvas, cold rain, warm sun, first snow of the season. The smell of balsam fir and wet dog. I taste and smell all of this in simply cooked wild game. Moose and onions. Its as good as food gets.
Well that picture was a disappointment, it didn't do it justice. Oh well off to the city tomorrow. Snow shoes and snowshoe hares soon winter has arrived.