Woman Midwest-style

The eyes of the Peregrine will plainly see; she 'tis truly a paragon of the falcon tiercel;  for all knows it's a victory dive in tumultuous pursuit; therefore, neither is prey,  synchronization innate. Glorious speed conquers the wind; life's course only its eyes can see. Masters of freedom's wing with sinewed talons of steel - - survival a constant test of nature's will to be free. Purest strength, the highest ideal, its instinct for freedom, with mate and free, the falcons will always truly be.  by Trish Frommer-Joy

Considering that humans can also be on the menu of the largest of predators, I had what I'd say was my worst scary moment while deer hunting twelve years ago.        Remnants of light snow clung to the grass on the southern slope of the open field, the icy patches barely clung to the brown grass... frozen white spots in an abstract painting mottled brown and white with the frigid, sunny morning. Stiff weeds softly crunched underfoot as I still-­hunted. My slightest step could rouse a deer.  Ed had gone into the woods on the north plateau of the timbered ridge, his 'climber' on his back and 30.06 in hand. I envied him having that strength, but my restless legs have been cursed with a childlike tendency, cramping up so I can’t sit still for very long. Easier to head back to the vehicle seeking warmth than to struggle down with a tree stand.  Bundled for cold, I was very content to stalk with the attentiveness of native ancestors.