"I wonder what the poor folk are doin' tonight." Dave and I pondered that sitting on the porch of buddy Dave's cabin, drinks in hand, soaking in forest sounds and Canadian blend whiskey, mixed with just the slightest amount of ice and Diet Seven-Up. Priceless and perfect was the night. God had paroled us from a six month long Monday called winter and released a week of sixty degree, blue sky days, just for our five days of turkey hunting.
Dave's cabin sits overlooking a river valley, with rising limestone bluffs on the south side and a mix of forest brush and hardwood trees on the north. This north side, ten by sixteen cabin, sans electricity and running water, fills with cots and duffel bags, shotguns and camping chairs, crowding the permanent fixtures of a corner cabinet and small wood burning stove. The cabin door has a clasping latch, which most often fails to latch when old bladders get relieved, without fail, during the coldest part of the night. Normally that's also the time of night fire and heat have departed that wood burner, for lack of stoking.
The world improves greatly during cabin time, for it's that world that we solve all the problems for, no matter how late into the night it takes. And sometimes, we have an ocean of solving to do! Quite a think tank where the observations are proclaimed without.
Proud reflections of our families are beamed by each. Darn good kids. Retirement is pondered and envisioned, the northwoods lodge described, but yet to be built, where there will be bunks for all. No more cots!
The next day's hunting strategy is put in place, this by two hunters who have not one turkey between them through three spring and two fall seasons of attempted gobbling, clucking and yelping to lure in a Tom. I think I know what a turkey laugh sounds like now!
Friend George joined us for the weekend, as always bringing his pot of sausage and peppers, just so good, it can't be legal! And rain happened by for Saturday night, just because it could.
The cabin has a tin roof, keeps out rain and bats and that's all a person could ask. Saturday night, the rain on that tin roof had Dave reminiscing about the upstairs bedroom of his youth, where that rain on the roof sound would usher him and his brother to la-la land. And tonight it was back. "Great night's sleep tonight", he smiled and figured. And it got better.
Our brand new addition to the cabin was placed about fifty yards away the previous weekend... an outhouse beautifully built with boards and beams cut from the trees of Dave's land. This outhouse with an oak bench, a two foot porch and a tin roof was visited by Dave during that rainy Saturday night. He returned opening the hard latching door grinning and gleaming over the experience of sitting in that brand, spanking new outhouse (which does not stink) savoring the sound of rain on the outhouse roof. Just sit and enjoy!
Our season once again concluded with the population of wild turkeys unchanged. At the cabin, we left some Hormel chili and whiskey in case of emergency occupation. And we left with the richness of time spent with good friends.
I wonder what the poor folks were doin'.
