Life's Hunts

I watched him hunt. He hunted often.

He would hunt everyday, if life allowed it.

Sometimes three days in succession.

Sometimes not for three days.

Rain or shine, pocket full of cash or empty.

The hunt had to continue. What would the day bring?

Success? Joy? Accomplishment? Or Failure? Wondering why? Planning?

Perhaps something in the middle. Smaller but still successful. Motivation.

He needed to find one that well compared to the images.

The images from fellow hunters. Comparable in mass.

A mass that would allow him to enter their conversations of success.

Find one that made his smile as wide as theirs in the images.

His hunting tools are large. Heavy Duty imprinted on each piece.

He uses two at once, carefully monitoring each one for hours.

Hanging at the end of each one is a smaller version of what he hunted.

It was big enough that some hunters would call it success; not him.

Today is rain. He will not leave. He watched from his truck window.

The markers in the water did not move. The rain fell heavily.

His spirit did not fall. He was hunting and the hunt felt good.

One of the markers vanished beneath the surface. A door swung open.

He leaves the truck and grabs his hunting stick in one motion. Delight shows.

The stick bends as if to break, but does not. Fast clicking sounds come from one end.

He pulls his arms back. Barely able to speak; “I got it.” he shouts.

One hand holding and pulling, the other hand winding. The marker shows; then splashing.

He works it to shore, then into the net. The smile widening with success.

A deep breath. The hunt is over. Others come to see it. He is in disbelief.

Some celebration. An image is taken. The captured smiles too. I will get away next time.

I watch and realize all hunts can end this way. With persistence. With determination.

A splash of its tail and it is gone under water. Ready for the next hunt.