The months of the year come and go. Inexorably they traipse onward, chronologically and unwaivering. And with the months come holidays and societal celebrations and birthdays and anniversaries and all manner of events for reflection and worship.
But for a number of the world's populace, there exists a certain set of months that hold distinct promise and reason for thanksgiving. I'm talking about the people in blaze orange and camouflage (no, not OSU fans, though I understand the confusion). I'm talking about the men and women in tree stands and blinds, purposefully exiled to the fringes of establishment with the sole purpose of "bagging" creatures.
I'm talking about deer hunters. And so it is that the season is upon us here in North America, come blaze orange clothing shortages or firearm mishaps.
And for one such patron of the wild, a roamer of the plains — the Stealthy Leopard, if you will — the deery season brought with it some pleasing fortune if not a rack of antlers as well.
But first, you'll see the Stealthy Leopard practicing his craft in the back yard of Anytown, USA, to the concern of several neighborly passersby.
20 yards. Aim for the vitals. The 'Leopard's instrument is tuned to hurtle the projectile at nearly 300 feet per second.
The older brother Leopard takes his mark. He is calm and collected and feeling instead of thinking, just like Obi-Wan prescribes.
Success. The Leopard spryly pulls his points from the foamish counterfeit. He is ready for the woods of reality.
The prize. The Leopard's trophy taken in western Oklahoma (and with a Boomstick instead of the Long Bow). The townsfolk will eat heartily for many moons this fall season. Well done, hunter and gatherer.