SHEPHERDING OUTDOORS
COLD DAYS B Y WA LT M E R R E L L Cape and I walked down the wooded lane … two sandy ruts meandered in parallel through the pine trees and occasional hardwoods. The pine needles squeaked ever so slightly beneath our rubber-soled boots, and the wind whispered in the treetops. “That sun feels good on the back of my neck,” I said softly. Cape rolled her eyes a little and shrugged her shoulders. Covered with her long brown hair, her shoulders lifted silently and then dropped again, reminding me that she couldn’t feel the sun on her neck because her hair had it covered. I chuckled and said, “I guess that was stupid.” She grinned and shrugged her shoulders again. I knew she agreed … she was a teenager – everything I said was stupid. She was simply courteous enough not to agree with me … this time. We continued our gentle stroll through the wintered woods in silence for the next 75 yards or so. The frosty blue sky blanketed the pine boughs swaying gently overhead. “Dad?” She whispered now. We were too close to the field to talk out loud. I leaned in towards her, straining to hear over the whistle of the wind. “How many times did you go hunting with your
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dad?” I stammered in my response … “Wha-what?” My voice cracked into a talk instead of a whisper. Cape repeated herself, only, this time, whispering more deliberately. I heard and understood what she had asked. But her question caught me off guard. I needed to process her words. “Not many,” I finally responded. I knew that would not be the end of the questioning. “Why not?” The next question came as stunningly as the first. “How did such a peaceful and serene walk to a green field turn into 20 questions with Dr. Phil?” I wondered silently in my head. “I don’t know, Sugar. He never liked to deer hunt when I was a kid. He took me dove hunting a few times. I guess it just wasn’t his thing.” I slowed my
