"Belly of the Beast"

2019 Archery Elk Chapter 1 "Belly of the Beast" 

Howdy folks, this is Bryan Huskey and we're going to kick off my first essay of the 2019 archery season. I hope you enjoy the ride!

 
I've always LOVED storms. Late summer thunder storms in particular. But any kind of weather that's remarkable is worth remarking in my book. As a little kid on the Oregon coast, I can recall a few instances when major storms would slam the Tillamook region, and the larger than life old growth trees of the community would on occasion be blown over. The devastating look of shattered wood and crushed surroundings was fascinating to me. With every enormous tree I'd gaze upward at, I'd imagine what it would look like to break or be uprooted and come crashing down to earth. It was simply the way the mind of this young boy worked. And every time violent storms rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, I'd watch from our living room window at a row of towering hemlock that bordered a neighboring diary pasture.  The powerful winds forced the trees to flex, and bend back and forth together like dancers on a stage. I would gaze in wonder as branches would be pushed in unison to reveal straining tension and the undersides of bows seldom seen. Sometimes I'd even pretend a tree was a giant fishing rod, and tied to it was a huge shark in the nearby Wilson river that pulled and thrashed from the end of the line.

2019 Archery Elk Chapter 1 "Belly of the Beast" 

Howdy folks, this is Bryan Huskey and we're going to kick off my first essay of the 2019 archery season. I hope you enjoy the ride!

 
I've always LOVED storms. Late summer thunder storms in particular. But any kind of weather that's remarkable is worth remarking in my book. As a little kid on the Oregon coast, I can recall a few instances when major storms would slam the Tillamook region, and the larger than life old growth trees of the community would on occasion be blown over. The devastating look of shattered wood and crushed surroundings was fascinating to me. With every enormous tree I'd gaze upward at, I'd imagine what it would look like to break or be uprooted and come crashing down to earth. It was simply the way the mind of this young boy worked. And every time violent storms rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, I'd watch from our living room window at a row of towering hemlock that bordered a neighboring diary pasture.  The powerful winds forced the trees to flex, and bend back and forth together like dancers on a stage. I would gaze in wonder as branches would be pushed in unison to reveal straining tension and the undersides of bows seldom seen. Sometimes I'd even pretend a tree was a giant fishing rod, and tied to it was a huge shark in the nearby Wilson river that pulled and thrashed from the end of the line.