Hunt2Prove

Eight-Thousand Reasons

Posted on June 16, 2019 by James M. Hunsucker IV

For the past several weeks I’ve been confined to the house – a hip replacement slowing me down temporarily. Aside from being necessary for the betterment of my health and ability to lead a more normal, pain-free life moving forward, this down time has provided me with considerable time to study and write. Here’s one of my personal life-lessons that left me with eight-thousand reasons to reflect and get better.

I was fortunate to get to know and work for a family who needed help marketing their timber. Their property was long and narrow, a near perfect example of a rectangle. One of the first steps to setting up a timber harvest is establishing harvest boundaries, which often times are the actual property lines. When flagging and painting property lines that haven’t been surveyed in decades, we do the best we can to find evidence of past markings. Sometimes these markings can come in the form of old paint, old chop marks, old signs, or even old flagging. For anyone that works in the timber business, it’s a great feeling to find an old line or corner that is just shy of being fully reclaimed by the woods – there’s a sense of nostalgia associated with this junction of the past and present. For a brief moment, overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment, you feel a connection to those who’ve worked these lands before, the thoughts on the history of a place captivating the imagination. Often times, though, it has been too long – the wilds of unrestrained nature have erased the visual evidence of parcelization created by those before us.

In my case, on this specific assignment, there was evidence – old flagging and old posted signs that just happened to coincide with a definitive timber change. The mistake I made was two-fold. First, I had somehow gotten off-course as I worked my way from the back of the property forward, the slightest mis-step in degrees when dealing with a line over a mile long, able to have a significant impact on where you end up. Second, I allowed my traverse to veer off of the original angle because of “evidence” of an “established” line. At the end of the day, I didn’t think twice about the need for a surveyor because I thought I was right; and, the only person who seemed to know I was wrong, a tenant of the adjacent property, neglected to say anything until after the Feller Buncher had dropped every tree up to the line I had flagged. Jordan Lumber, the buyer of the lump-sum, sealed-bid sale, cut right up to the line I had established as anyone would have done – they thought I was right too. One gentlemen who liked stirring the pot kept pushing for triple stumpage, shouting “timber theft, timber theft, timber theft” to all who would listen. I’ve even heard rumors circulating that it was 17 acres valued at more than $70,000.00. Thankfully, surveyor Melvin Graham established the correct property line – 6.17 +- acres and over $8,000 later, here we are.

Today, eight-thousand reasons later, I am a better man for having experienced this trying situation. The folks that I worked for believing in me, the landowner whose property was affected, his kindness and understanding, inspiring me to get better. Rather than stump counting the impacted area and making a bad situation worse, Dr. Daley was happy accepting what Jordan had paid per acre for the area included in the sale. This isn’t the only mistake I’ve ever made at work and it certainly won’t be the last. There have been times when I’ve been over-confident, a little too proud, and hesitant to admit that I’m unsure or that I can’t figure something out. Nowadays, when I catch myself falling into this trap, I remember my time on Haw Branch Road and the eight-thousand reasons I have to be better. If a property needs surveying for us to be able to do our job correctly, I recommend it beforehand. Most importantly, perhaps, is the lesson that humans are fallible, prone to falling short and destined to make mistakes. At the end of my life, as my mind and body fail, I can only hope that I have used my failures, my journeys down the wrong path as a means to hunt down the best version of myself, the version that God wants to see.

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Rx Fire: Good & Life-Giving

Posted on June 11, 2019 by James M. Hunsucker IV

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Like a whistling-jake firework on the 4th of July, hardwood saplings are popping open all around me, their cambium layer sizzling to its end. The sound of one life as it burns back into the ground from which it came, like a raging whistle of hope for another. The snapping and crackling of the fire as it consumes a myriad of forest fuels like music to my ears. I know what’s coming in the wake of the fire.

Loblolly Pine Understory – 11 Weeks Post-Burn

A forest understory dominated by death and decay will soon be dominated by life and living. Seeds of all sorts that are no longer suppressed will take root – smothered no more, they can breath and grow – the fire that carefully moved through here only borrowing the oxygen of this microclimate for a short while. Unlike a wildfire that rages out of control, killing most of the organisms in its path, prescribed fire is calculated, meticulous. Like the waves of American troops that stormed the beaches of Normandy, prescribed fire has specific targets: Hardwood competition like Red Maple and Sweetgum, Pine Litter and Logging Slash – things that serve as the enemy to the fruitfulness of a specific portion of an ecosystem – In this case, the understory of Loblolly Pine.

Prescribed Fire is to the understory of man’s forests what coffee is to his body – a concentrated burst of energy. The contrast of the blackness caused by that energy when set aside the green that rushes into place soon thereafter, as different as night and day. The positive shockwaves sent crackling through a forest following a fire, measurable on many levels. The effervescent spark that prescribed fire is to a plot of land passes onward to the wildlife populations that call that land home. Wild turkey immediately scratch through burned areas munching on worms and bugs that flock to and over the more exposed surface, pecking up grubs that might have been cooked nice and crispy like country fried venison. Within days of a burn, White-tailed deer are presented with a diverse food plot that has been literally burned into existence. Bob-White Quail find refuge in the thickets that are sometimes left un-charred by the fire, patches we call them. I find refuge in knowing that what we’re doing here is good on a multitude of levels – from ecologically to spiritually, a difference is being made.

As I drive around the last compartment, the last sub-section of forest that we’ve set ablaze, my mind wanders forward to turkey season. I wonder what hunting memories will take shape in these woods come April. I think of the kindness of the landowner for affording me the privilege to carry out this prescription – nostalgic almost when considering the course of events that led me here to this sacred place, watching a fire burn into itself as the sun withers away in the western sky. Like the deer and turkey that have gotten accustomed to the regimen of fire we’ve implemented here, I’ve been waiting for this moment. As much as these flames have breathed life back into this forest, they’ve also breathed life back into me, further inspiring me to be the best steward I can be.