I arrived at camp Rack & Feather early. The cell phone rang; it was Jim Acker. His wife, Carla, was preparing a large dish of lasagna and a salad for camp, but it wasn’t quite ready. Could I please go inside, build the fire and wait.

This happens often; I’m somewhat suspicious Jim likes coming to a warm camp. But I have to admit it was a small price to pay for Carla’s delicious cooking!

I hauled my stuff inside, started the fire, settled into a reclining chair to ease my aching back; it’d been killing me, and so I waited.

Waiting doesn’t bother me, especially since there’s Solitaire and Sudoku on the cell phone to occupy your mind. But, how much of our life do we actually spend waiting? More importantly, do you mind waiting?

When we’re young we can’t wait to grow up, a big mistake for sure. I couldn’t wait to become 12 and purchase my first hunting license. Next, waiting impatiently for 16 and a driver’s license. Back in the day we in Bradford couldn’t wait for 18 — not to vote, for heaven’s sake, but to drive across the state line and buy an ice-cold beer at the old Limestone Grill. They really made great hamburgers there as well and the pool table was always busy. You usually had to wait to play a game.

After that you couldn’t wait to graduate and escape high school. When I think back to all the fun and friends I had then it was really a silly wish — high school was exciting, something always happening.

It was expected I’d go to college and, once one begins that journey, you’re impatient to finish despite many other good experiences. You didn’t know it then, but the world was just waiting for you to graduate and indoctrinate you to the realities of adult life. Marriage, car payments, mortgages, taxes and bosses suddenly took the place of teachers. Hadn’t expected that!

Then the shocking reality of restful nights being shattered by the cries of your little baby. Adorable, but they can wreak havoc with your schedule. To my own amazement I became quite proficient at changing diapers, diagnosing why the little one was crying, treating diaper rash, knowing when to change formulas and deciding the experts actually knew next to nothing about babies or children.

Mom knew what to do; throw the book out!

For some silly reason you can’t wait until your baby begins to walk. Again, a disaster! Curtains ripped down, falls, bruises, bumps, hide all sharp objects, your favorite lamps overturned, valuables broken, burns, new dangers with stairs and steep banks thrown in for good measure. What was I thinking? Crawling was much less stressful.

Jim arrived shortly and we settled in waiting for the other hunters to arrive. We didn’t wait to try the lasagna, though. Delicious!

The next morning the alarm blared at 5:30. Chris Shaw was shaking his head in the kitchen; he’d set the coffee maker for 5 p.m. instead of 5 a.m., so everyone waited for coffee. I myself mixed up a.m. and p.m. the day before and missed an appointment, so I sympathized with his distress.

Jay Acker dropped me off in the darkness and I staggered across the ditch, and up the bank barely able to see enough to find my way to the stand. With my back hurting so badly a tree stand seemed unwise, so I settled beside a large oak. With my scent-free clothing, ground level, hopefully, shouldn’t present a great disadvantage if the wind cooperated just a little. Despite the darkness the huge oak’s looming presence was discernible and I sat, once again, and the waiting began.

Slowly things began to acquire solid shapes, edges became visible and trees took solid form. Soon even the leaves were visible as separate outlines instead of globs of darkness.

The silence was absolute, the forest comforting. I thought of moving to the tree stand but a small voice said to stay put. OK.

Suddenly, an acorn plopped down beside me. A minute later claws on bark and just 3 feet away, a squirrel appeared, head down, tail jerking. He froze when he spotted me, and after a close inspection spun around the tree and vanished. Soon three other squirrels appeared. The day had begun.

A flash of motion caught my eye as a large, dark, square-bodied deer briefly appeared 100 yards away. I’d bet a small fortune it was a buck, but there was no time to see details. I raised the crossbow and balanced it on my knee. The deer were moving out of the bottom toward the ridge; be ready. Almost immediately ears appeared below and soon a doe and her two fawns moved past at 15 yards, never even looking my way. Ten minutes later another deer appeared, a 3-point. He passed at 10 yards, every hair clearly visible. Just before 9 a.m. a doe angled by at 30 yards.

A horn sounded below. My ride; time for breakfast.

It’d been a good wait, a fine morning with few dull moments.

Life has made me realize we’re silly to be impatient; instead, we should be counting our blessings and savoring those moments of peace and reflection. A lesson it appears you must “wait” some time to fully appreciate.