I am a hunter but, I don't kill things. I have no gun
but, I am good at hunting. I always find prey but, the
prey is not a living organism. It is neither dead or
alive. It is just there waiting. It is not scared or
afraid of the human touch. It offers no resistance,
struggle, or emotion. It can be both cold hot depending
on the weather or the season... Hunting season.
To hunt is to live, to find, and to kill. Killing yourself
to live. Hunting is fun. But can be hazardous. To your
health. If you are not careful. Of Poachers. And the
long arm of the law. Johnny Law is not your friend when
it comes to hunting. He is your enemy. An inspiration
to crawl underground and hunt successfully right under
his nose. Operation Hunter. Quiet like an Indian. Not
a sound. Don't move. Wait. Patiently. Stay downwind
so they can't smell you. He says. Use your head. Think.
Wisely. Like a hunter. Or a warrior. You have to be
smarter than your opponent. Have a plan. And a back-up
plan. Just in case. Of an emergency. Be ready for anything.
Stay alert. Stay alive. While hunting. Search for the
weak. And left behind. Take advantage of the situation.
But work quickly. Leave no evidence. Of your hunting.
You can hunt in the woods and mountains but the cities
are best. For hunting. Lots of prey. Falling between
the cracks. The good,bad,and the ugly. The forgotten.
Living in squalor. Poverty. Diseased. A blessing in
disguise. For the hunter. Makes hunting easier. Disasters.
Fires. Floods. Gods wrath. The hunter loves it. It is
sad, but inevitable. The stronger survive. The weak
die. Is nature to blame?The Devil?Is anybody laughing?The
hunter is smiling. To himself. For his passion. And
knowledge. Of being a hunter. Is he faster and stronger.
Than the rest?Just older and wiser. More experienced.
Maybe even lucky. To live. He has lived over 30 seasons.
Of hunting. May the Gods let him live a long life. Of
Hunting. And good luck. He will follow the old ones'
ways. It is passed on from father to son. My father
is a hunter. Thank you father for passing the stick
to me. The hunting stick. Wooden. Strong. Blessed. By
the witchdoctor. For happy hunting. For good hunting.
He remembers. The rules. Taught by the elders. Who have
now put down their hunting sticks. Respect your elders.
And learn. About hunting. No guns. No knives. No bows.
Just the hunting stick. Your stick is your friend. Fight
with it. Sleep with it. Practice with it. It is part
of you. Your hunting stick. The hunter goes no where
without the hunting stick. You need the stick to hunt.
To stalk. To overcome. Your enemies. Your foes. Your
prey. Celebrate in victory. With the hunter dance. Eat.
Drink. Be thankful. To the Gods. For letting you hunt
Successfully. The Gods have blessed the hunter with
his skills. And he is thankful. Thank you. He says.
Looking up at the stars. And thinking of his fallen
comrades. Heroes of past battles. From days gone by.
They were brave. And fought hard. It was a good day
to die. Hunters hunting. Hunters dying. They did not
die in vain. Never forget. Their faces. Their memories.
They will live on forever. In our hearts. The fire burns
bright. And strong. Never waining. In the westernly
winds in the Valley of Smoke. The hunters will always
hunt. And find prey. In the city. Or the forests. In
the valleys. Wherever there is prey. Along the river
that Divides. Water is scarce. The heat can kill you.
If you hunt in the wrong place. Hunters. Watch out for
bandits. And White Eyes. Easterners. Southerners. Traitors.
Infiltrators. They are your enemies. Beware. Hunters.
You can not trust the outsiders. They will try to hunt
on your lands. They will try to be your freinds. And
bring you gifts. From the outside world. Do not be confused.
Stay focused. And true to your roots. The elders said.
Watch your back. Plant some eyes in the back of your
head. Fellow hunters. Form an alliance. To drive out
the outsiders. The traitors. The infiltrators. Who do
not thank the Gods. For hunting. Raping the land.
Do not trust Easterners from the land of Benjaman Franklin.
The outsiders pillage the land for their own greed and
glory. Another Buffalo gone, extinct, and never to be
seen again. Go home outsider. You walk the road to ruin.
They have hunted for many moons before you were born.
Respect the hunting grounds you come across. Thats'
what the elders taught us.
Hunters, the tribe who live in the Valley of Smoke underneath
the mountain of the Bald Eagle...
We are the hunters.
~Salba
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