by Martin Kaine

Created on: November 02, 2008   Last Updated: November 06, 2008

It is late January, 4:30am, 27 degrees on a Saturday morning and I am walking through the woods beside a river. It is still dark in this hollow and icy limbs slap me in the face for my effort. I am on my way to a large rock, jutting out from the side of a hill that this river has been carving for thousands of years. From there the view is magical. At dawn the sun will begin to rise above the hill behind me and the hollow below will begin to illuminate at a pale blue at first warming into the colors of the fallen leaves as the sun beams work their way through the cold Grey trees. If I am quiet and still when I sit on that rock I will see nature in action. I will be witness to the drama of predator and prey, dominance and competition, natural selection, and evolution in action. So I climb the hill and take my balcony seat in the theater of the river near my home.

At first there is silence, but not total silence. It is accented by the sound of water over rocks and the calls of the birds who woke early. As the sun climbs the hill and illuminates the forest an impressive air show begins. Finches and cardinals dart in and out of the bushes like little fighter pilots trying to get a lock on their target. Their speed and precision is as remarkable as their behavior is comical. These tiny birds, no bigger than my thumb, puff themselves up and fly bombing raids and perform great feats of air borne acrobatics.

I feel a sense of gratitude as the sun finally tops the hill and warms my face. As it climbs higher the light covers me completely and takes the chill away that had come from sitting still in the cold and the dark. Now there are new actors in the theater. I hear a turkey in the distance. There is a beaver in the river and a fox causing quite a panic among the fighter pilot finches and bomber cardinals of the bush.

I hear a short, quick rustling in the leaves. I am familiar with that sound. That is a squirrel digging around for something to eat and that is who my business if with this morning. I have a .22 caliber Marlin semi-automatic rifle with a Bushnell scope. That may seem like overkill but if you have ever seen how a properly motivated squirrel can move through the tree tops then you know you usually only get one shot. This one is to my right. I move slowly when he is digging and I freeze when he looks up. Gradually I move into position and shoulder my weapon. The squirrel is in the cross hairs of my scope. I won't shoot him yet. He is still on the ground and

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