BACKROADS AND BOBTAILS
More Than Props and Trappings
by Bob Kornegay

Until recently, I've never consciously taken the time to just sit down and think about how much outdoors equipment I own. I purposely avoided doing so, believing I might become quite peeved with myself or, at worst, slip into a deep depression.

You see, I'm absolutely certain I've spent a lot of money on fishing rods, guns, and related paraphernalia that might have been much better spent on other things. In short, I own way too much hunting and fishing gear. No doubt about it.

That fact didn't always bother me like it does now. I mean, despite all the "stuff" I had lying around, it wasn't like I didn't need it. After all, my outdoor life was all about catching fish and shooting game. The deer rifles, the bird guns, and the archery components are necessary for that as are the bass rigs, fly rods, and spinning outfits. I even felt comfortable purchasing only the "best" of everything. One gets what he pays for, right?

Or does he? As Bob Dylan so eloquently put it, the times, they are a'changin'.

I've made an important discovery over the past few years, an evolutionary revelation that is reinforced nowadays every time I venture afield. It manifests itself on every waterway. It is there in every duck blind, deer stand, and dove field.

I see now that rods, guns, and other traditional trappings of the outdoor life are, when all is said and done, merely props. All my shooting and angling regalia add up to little more than just pieces of the hunter/fisherman costume. The resulting outfit is simply part of the image. It helps me look the part. Hey, buddy, look at this expensive rifle on my shoulder. I'm a hunter. See my Orvis fly fishing combo? I'm a fisherman.

Today, as my sporting gear (and my sporting self) grow ever more time worn, it's nice to engage in some of the more aesthetic pursuits, things some might even snicker at me for doing.

Now, it's a lot more important to see the deer than shoot him. The rising trout that chooses a live insect over my nearby dry fly doesn't offend me anymore. It's often enough to simply watch the ducks fly, even when they're in range.

These days, I sit quietly in a boat and contemplate a patch of lily pads. Seemingly, I'm searching for the perfect pocket in which to cast. I even hold my rod at a precise angle, waiting for the right moment and situation. More likely, though, my attention is on the frog perched atop a single pad bonnet. I'm deep-down wishing he'd leap into the water and make the bass strike before I get the chance. Such a thing is a sight to see.

Or maybe I look further, toward the horizon, where the sun strikes the reflective black water, providing a natural laser show against a background of twilight blue and burnt orange. I'm fishing, true enough, but not for meat or trophies. I fish to feed the senses and the soul.

The Carolina chickadee alights on a limb near my tree stand. He isn't three feet from me, but exhibits no fear whatsoever. He's just intensely curious about the strange new "growth" he's discovered on the trunk of his favorite hickory tree. He cocks his black-capped head, bobs up and down, and hops back and forth in wonder, only becoming more intrigued when I move, scratch, or cough.

I watch the tiny bird and somehow commune with him for long moments while, more than likely, deer slip silently by, unseen and unheard. Such occurrences now happen more and more often and, like as not, I'll be quite satisfied at having spent quality time with the chickadee for the price of missing my deer.

It's funny, you know. Ten years ago, holding a trusty rod or gun and not using it would have seemed foolish and impractical. Coming home empty-handed was a thing to fret and fume about. Now, though, as I believe I've mentioned, the tools of the trade are just props, stage decorations. Still important and useful, mind you, but not always necessary.

Nope, an empty stringer or game bag isn't nearly the curse it once was.

Not as long as the spirit and the heart are full.

(Email Bob Kornegay at cletus@alltel.net)