Anyone out there have a "bucket list"? I never knew what one was until I heard about the film of the same name that came out a few years ago -- the one with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. It got me thinking, and I've never really considered what I would want to do before I "kick the bucket." I realize now that there would a good many things, but it's difficult for me to imagine there being so little time.
In a recent issue of Field & Stream magazine, I read about their "Bucket List" of 75 thrills and moments a sportsman should most like to experience in the outdoors. Before I even read the first item, I was positive that I would be able to check off several items. Mid-way through the list, I really was feeling like an amateur or tourist... a weekend outdoors warrior. After reading the final items on the list, I then felt like I had just shown up to fish with Tom Skerritt and Norman Maclean, only I had brought a basic spinning outfit and a Maxwell Bros. can filled with earthworms. The grand total of items I could check off: 1.
I have planted a tree before. A maple we purchased for twenty bucks at the Maple Leaf Festival in Baldwin, KS. It didn't make it past the second year, but it survived long enough to count.
The list did contain a handful of items I knew I would never do. For instance, I don't ever want to noodle a catfish. There really isn't any appeal for me to want to stick my arm down the throat of a catfish. I don't really want to get within 100 yards of a grizzly bear, either. I think I may have gotten close to one when I was a kid and on vacation in Wyoming, but I was young enough to have forgotten the details. I have been close to a black bear, though, and that was enough for me.
The "grizzly bear" item reminds me of a funny story. Two years ago, I was in Jackson, Wyoming, for the American Wilderness Leadership School. The sponsors sent out a letter telling us what all we need to bring for our stay in the wilderness, and one item listed was "bear spray." I had no idea what it was.
Shortly after arriving at the AWLS Lodge, we learned from one of the instructors the proper use of the "bear spray" and we also heard about the silly people who that that if they sprayed themselves with it, then it would repel bears the same way that Off! repels mosquitoes. I wonder how many tourists had to die before they realized that "bear spray" is more like mace or pepper spray.
Anyway, back to the list, which enumerated a handful of things that I've almost done:
--Catch a trout on a fly you've tied. I've caught a catfish on an ugly pattern (a chartreuse woolly bugger). No idea why that dumb fish took the fly, but it was the first fish I'd ever caught on a fly rod, and it was the first I'd ever caught on a self-tied fly. Still working on that trout, however.
--Teach yourself how to navigate with a map and compass. I know how to read a terrain map, thanks to all those hiking trips with my dad, and a couple summers ago I learned how to use a compass the right way. Never any field application, though.
--Read every book that Ernest Hemingway ever wrote. not quite halfway, but I'm working on it. Some of my students have been keen to identify my "man-crush" on Hemingway.
--Watch every movie that Clint Eastwood ever starred in. Close, but not quite. Still a huge fan of the Sergio Leone “Man With No Name” trilogy.
--Backpack into the mountains alone and hunt. I haven't gone out into the wilderness to hunt, but I have done some good hiking trips. More on that later.
--Sneak up on a deer and touch it.
The item about sneaking up on a deer is probably the one that I've come closest to achieving. It's not that I've almost succeeded in sneaking up on a deer; rather, it's more like I've walked right up to one and, instead of me touching it, the crazy thing bit me!
My dad and I had been hiking across Virginia for a couple weeks and were taking a nice easy pace through the Shenandoah Mountains. There was no exaggeration to the rumors that summer about the deer being so domesticated that they would walk right up to any tourist and eat out of their hands. Dad and I had stopped and were trying to “yellow blazing.” No luck. As we waited, the deer began to quietly make their way into the clearing where we were standing by the road. Out of sheer boredom, I grabbed a handful of Cheerios and walked toward one of the various deer. I stopped about two yards from it and held out my hand. The very picture of timidity, the deer inched its way across the short distance between us. I couldn’t believe that hadn’t dashed away when I first moved toward it.
It greedily eyed the handful of cheerios, and a feeling of anxiety coursed through me as I stood there, so close to actually touching a deer. I ignored everything else around us; I simply stood as still as I possibly could and waited as the creature betrayed its instincts and came closer. Its dappled coat, coal black eyes, and the moisture around its nostrils were as real as can be. It reached forward, extending its neck and opening its mouth, and then I felt the odd sensation of it suckling at my fingertips!
The weird suction quickly changed to a feeling of shock as I realized it was nibbling on my fingers. Suddenly, it lost all coyness and all-out bit me! I jerked my hand back and the spell was broken as the deer dashed back into the woods. Its companions followed right behind it. I realized that it had surely been spooked by my sudden retrieval of my hand; soon it might feel the disappointment at not actually receiving anything readily edible. I shook my sore finger as my dad laughed, the deer having fled deep into the forest.
I’ve never met anyone else who has been bitten by a deer. The thought came to me that I’ve done so few of the things on the Field and Stream bucket list that I kind of look like a pansy to any seasoned outdoorsman. I’m stubborn as can be and I don’t like to feel inferior, so my solution is to add that experience (and a few others) to my own "bucket list." So, here are the things I've done, but most wouldn't think to add to their own bucket list:
--Spend twenty minutes playing "peek-a-boo" with a raccoon
--Climb a 30-foot tree with the sole purpose of falling out of it
--Go on a Spring Break hiking trip in the Appalachians in the middle of March (warm weather and shorts during the day, waking up to a foot of snow the next morning)
--Come as close to shooting off your own toe without actually shooting it off (doesn’t count if you do it on purpose)
--Make your way across a 100-yard stretch of a hedgerow without ever touching the ground (think Tarzan)
--Go on a midnight hike a mile uphill to watch the moon rise over a valley in Virginia
With the things I would never do (catfish noodling), the things I've almost done (read Hemingway’s novels), and the things on my own list (impressive, isn’t it?), that leaves one more category: the items that I hope to someday accomplish:
--Explore and live in a canoe for a week
--Hunt where I can see the Northern Lights
--Drink a beer that's been chilled in a trout stream
--Land a 10-pound bass
--Break in a fishing hat from scratch
--Float the Grand Canyon
--Build a bamboo fly rod
--Skip work and let my son skip school to go deer hunting
--Release a trophy fish
--Get published in Field & Stream
I'm not the epitome of the extreme sportsman, but I have to say that the outdoors is something I absolutely love. A few years down the road, I could grab that same bucket list and check off everything I've done, and I could work out a plan to complete as many as possible before I do kick the bucket, but when it comes down to it, that would defeat the purpose.
I used to like listening to a Walkman (remember those?) as I hiked, and then I started counting steps to keep my mind occupied. The music helped the time pass quickly and the counting helped me keep track of the distance traveled. At some point, my dad and I had a good chat about the nature of hiking and he recommended I just walk, letting my feet carry my body to wherever we may end up and allowing my mind to wander wherever it may go. The music and counting were limiting to me. He was right. Keeping tabs of my outdoors adventures using a bucket list would limit me in the same way. I just like to go with the flow, not like a man-made draining ditch, but the free streams winding down the mountainside.
