"When Nature Wins" - Keith R. Bridgman - 1997:Time slowed under the canopy of that cold, dark, morning and I felt small and insignificant sitting there alone under the broad expanse of that star-lit sky...
Never again would a sunrise simply be a sunrise. It would be a unique moment of time and place forever bound and tested against that morning...forever etched as a defining principle of what an outdoor experience should be.
When I stepped out of the warm cab of my truck and into the chill of that pre-dawn, morning air, little did I suspect that this day would be unique. The air was light and crisp and well beyond the point of being cold, and I shivered as I looked toward the still black sky across which spread the silvery haze of the Milky Way. I was to meet an old friend here on the northwest side of Canton Lake, in Northwest Oklahoma, for some late season goose hunting. Forewarned of his late arrival, I set about performing the well-rehearsed motions of getting ready for the day’s hunt. On previous outings we had noticed that few hundred Canada honkers followed a predictable pattern each morning and afternoon. We hoped to ambush one or two as they flew low over a spit of land that extended a few hundred yards into the lake. The cover was pretty good there with a group of knurled willow trees on the point and copious amounts of tall grass along the edge plus with the lake being low that season, the walk in was easy.
The thin layer of ice along the shallows crunched under foot as I trudged along the peninsula. I carried no decoys, for we planned on remaining mobile and adapting to the movements of the geese if the opportunity presented itself. Eventually, I settled in amongst the willows and leaned back into a comfortable position long before the first vestiges of daylight became apparent. There was a calming silence that pervaded over the lake…no wind…no sounds... except the soft rush of condensed breath set aglow by the starlit sky.
Time slowed under the canopy of that cold, dark, morning and I felt small and insignificant sitting there alone under the broad expanse of that star-lit sky. A sense of melancholy drifted over me born from a fatigue that hovered like a fog around my eyes. Eventually, along the horizon across the lake a faint glow became evident, so pale as to be almost imperceptible yet distinct and recognizable as the first sign of the approaching dawn. Somewhere across the lake a group of mallards stirred and their chatter echoed across the silent waters. Overhead, a flight of buffleheads whistled from left to right and circled behind before disappearing into the darkness. More flights followed in rapid succession. A group of teal rocketed nearby, then pintail and more mallards whipped across with their wings whistling as they ripped through the crisp morning air. Unseen high overhead, the haunting chattel of sandhill cranes added to the symphony that was slowly being orchestrated across the lake. For each new moment a new sound…a new flurry…broke the silence of the once still morning and slowly, as if in unison with the stirrings of the waterfowl on and around the lake, the glow over the horizon changed in texture and intensity.
The perfectly imprinted image of clouds that drifted low over the horizon began to glow with a deliberate shimmer, celebrated with layers of pastel blues and pinks intermixed with streaks of orange and red, setting the mirrored surface of the lake aglow. A flight of hooded mergansers swooped in and sat down less than twenty yards in front of me, their distinctive profile a silhouette against the ever-growing intensity of the sunrise. I was spell bound and leaned my shotgun against the willow…and simply watched.
The once star studded sky began to lighten and one by one each star began to dim…then blink one final time, and disappear. By this time, multitudes of waterfowl were stirrings all around me. I couldn’t believe what was unfolding. It was like an image taken from the an artists canvas, yet no words, no film, no imagination could capture the majesty of this morning. The effects of the blazing sunrise, the fire like reflection on the lake, and the chaotic movements of countless waterfowl could not have been choreographed more splendidly than the spontaneous explosion of time and place presenting themselves across this, the best of nature’s theaters.
On the horizon, what began as a faint whimper of light, progressed now to a bold amber glow with jets of red and orange ripping through and dancing across the low clouds. The lake and sky were ablaze with the sunrise fire and the chaotic migrations of thousands of ducks and geese crossing in confused movements.
Like when a conductor raises his baton, a hush fell over the morning a moment before the sun thrust is blazing surface above the horizon. An instant later the sky was filled with brilliant, golden red light and the surface of the lake appeared as though it were on fire ripping the hush apart when thousands of waterfowl exploded into flight across a stage of unbridled beauty.
At that moment I realized something unique was unfolding not only around me, but within. It was something I suppose I always knew, but which never before became so evident. From all the years of hunting and fishing, from all the priceless moments spent outdoors, it was a moment like this that I was seeking...to witness the incomprehensible complexity of nature, to feel the indescribable simplicity of a rising sun, to understand that I was a part of God’s creation given the privilege to witness and enjoy the splendid array of what life has to offer. This is what the outdoor experience is all about.
Far too many outdoor moments have gone unnoticed, far too much focus placed on the success or failure of a hunt based on what was brought home…and far too many times the most important images were lost in the vacuum of time. Never again would a sunrise simply be a sunrise. Few images can stir the imagination or soothe the soul like witnessing God’s creative hand as it unfolds across his palette. Every morning and every dawn is a new creation…there for the taking…there for all to see…there as a free gift, a reward beyond any expectations.
My partner eventually arrived and was able to witness the last moments of what I had been privileged to observe from it’s beginning. We failed to bring home any game on that trip, but it was a fitting end to a perfect day afield. Somehow, it seemed appropriate that nature, so elegantly endowed, so perfectly displayed, as was the intent of its creator, would win on this day.
Keith R. Bridgman
