By Bob Owens
In high school and college, I was in the woods of eastern North Carolina as much as possible, hunting whitetail deer.
Sitting alone at the base of a longleaf pine as the sun came up, or stalking between cypress knees and oaks in a swamp near the Tar River outside of Greenville was a source of great joy for me. It didn’t matter if I bagged anything or not. To simply be in the wild, in nature, mattered every bit as much as harvesting deer for the freezer.
It was good for the soul.
Then life got complicated, and other things became priorities …read more
Via:: Bearing Arms