THE CALL OF THE WILD
WILDERNESS. The word itself is music. These words hit home to me as I read them laying in my camper with two bird dogs snoring at my feet. I had spent a long day in the wild, chasing mountain gobblers in early spring. My dogs, Lincoln and Jones, were along to enjoy camp and the mountain air—and I was glad to have them to keep me warm on this cool night, high off the beaten path. It means something lost and something still present, something remote and at the same time intimate, something buried in our blood and nerves, something beyond us and without limit. Outside, the wind rustled lightly through the pines, and the darkness blanketed the landscape. The stars provided the only light for miles. It was just how we like…