Big September Feelings

Deer season, death, and Louisiana wetlands

I’ve let most of my favorite month slip by without posting an update. September has been a whirlwind. I turned 51 just before the archery opener, which I spent in the woods getting soaked to the bone in a rain storm and seeing zero deer.

After the weather slowed to a steady drizzle, I watched a steady parade of wild turkeys feed past my stand. Despite my drenched status, it was relatively enjoyable, albeit frustrating, considering I saw only a single gobbler and a solitary hen bird all spring.

Of course, a nice eight-pointer still in velvet showed himself on my trail camera that afternoon, not 20 yards from where I popped up the ground blind that morning. I about had an apoplexy in the produce aisle of the local Food Lion when the notification hit my phone. A little old lady bagging tomatoes watched me bang my forehead against my shopping cart handle with understandable concern.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

I managed a shaky “no, ma’am” before turning my cart toward the checkout, a red welt slowly swelling just above my right eyebrow.

I haven’t been out since that first day. My father-in-law died in a hospital bed a few days after the opener. His death wasn’t a surprise. His health had been steadily declining for years. My husband made several trips north to handle arrangements. I went along for moral support.

My father-in-law and I were far from close. He tended to talk around me and seemed to consider me more of an inconvenience than a blessing. He once berated my husband for missing his niece’s housewarming.

“I know, family second,” he rebuked over the phone.

We had been too busy spreading my father’s ashes to attend.

Still, the man’s passing stirred up plenty of big feelings, leaving me pondering things like my own mortality and what kind of legacy I hope to leave behind. I probably need to hit the woods. That’s where I do my best thinking, and places in my heart need the kind of healing I only find in wild places.

The day after his funeral, I was on a plane bound for south Louisiana to spend three days on the Cajun Prairie chasing redfish and knocking teal out of the air with steel shot. (Special thanks to Academy Sports and Magellan Outdoors for the invite.)

Lousiana wasn’t on my bucket list, but it should have been. With acres of bayous and estuaries, it has plenty of prime redfish real estate. We fished just east of Calcasieu Lake, where freshwater from the Calcasieu River mixes with saltwater from Calcasieu Pass, creating a happy brackish water paradise for inshore species. They were biting hot on popping corks, and I can’t imagine a better time on the water.

Photo credit: Ben Sassani/Academy Sports + Outdoors

Our guide’s name was Duncan. At 24, he’s still living fast. Duncan opened up the outboard on the way back in, cutting tight curves in the maze of canals while blasting classic Fleetwood Mac.

Listen to the wind blow; down comes the night
Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies
Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light

The sun was sinking over the marsh grass, just hitting that golden hour light. With the wind whipping across my face, I could feel the sting of immense gratitude welling up in my eyes.

I felt like I was in paradise.

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Watching the sunrise from a Louisiana duck blind is also about as close to heaven on earth as one can get (minus the mosquitoes). I rode waves of adrenaline that crashed with each flock of birds that turned toward the decoys.

I checked a cooler full of redfish and teal for my Delta Airlines flight back home. That made me feel kind of like a badass. I’ll be cooking up a fine meal for my family this weekend, which also hits me right in the feels.

I may not have spent as much time in a treestand this month as I would have liked, but it’s been a damn good month. Life is good, and I sure am living.

Photo credit: Ben Sassani/Academy Sports + Outdoors

Photo credit: Ben Sassani/Academy Sports + Outdoors