Collin, this morning, after a solo turkey hunt
Sometimes my reading life and my living life perfectly coincide. At lunch I was browsing through Neil Gunn’s novel, Morning Tide. I’m quite sure you have heard neither of Neil Gunn nor this title. However, if you lived in Scotland, Gunn would be a familiar author. In this-coming-of age tale, twelve-year old Hugh MacBeth is reckoning how he can help the family while his father is away fishing and his mother is ill. I can say with certainty that my sons have all experienced a moment like this.
But if he got this fish now and Bill and himself set rabbit-snares tonight, it might be something. A great desire came upon him to provide for the house. To hunt and kill, to bring food home, and fire. His eyes glistened, but in their light there was also something of awe. Life could hold nothing more supreme than that. To be the provider, the giver. The importance of it made him quiver. He saw in a flash deep into man’s estate. The glory, the power, and the self-restraint that smiles thanks shyly away. To be able to do that…and then for his father to come home, to learn about it, and–to look at him for a moment with his quiet man’s look. Nothing on earth could beat that.