It seems amazing interceptor missiles today zip along at Mach 8, leaving the speed of sound far behind. I have difficulty in comprehending speeds that fast.

So, to help me get a grasp of such a ridiculous number, I calculated it was 9,002.625 feet per second, very close to three times the velocity of a round from my .30-06. Man, how embarrassing for my poor bullet, being left in the dust like that!

Unfortunately, time appears to be traveling the same speed. Just a year ago, January 2025, I anticipated the year would shoot by; it did and then some. First, trout season, then spring gobbler, followed by pike, walleye, crappie and bass.

Africa popped up in August, then archery rushed in, soon gone, followed by muzzleloader, Thanksgiving and rifle. Amazingly, the year was over. You have to be kidding me!

It’s all a blur, fragmented memories flashing by at light speed. Now it’s 2026 and sad experience leaves little doubt this year will zip by faster than last. Anyone have a time anchor?

As I’m writing this a school bus rolled by. My oldest daughter’s children have all graduated from high school. How’d that happen? That would make me a minimum of how many years old?

Well, moving on…

In retrospect, there’s little doubt it was a wonderful year. Successful on so many fronts, so many miracles in my life. A great thankfulness wells up inside of me and I thank the good Lord for looking out for, blessing and protecting me.

When a dead maple snag blew over in high winds during archery it struck the very tree my stand was in at head height. Glancing up, just before impact, seeing the snag coming there was little doubt left in my mind I was a dead man! Miraculously, the maple smacked absolutely dead center into the cherry my tree stand was against, showering me with bark and wood fragments, but stuck there, not sliding to either side and knocking me and my stand to pieces.

At first, there was only shock and surprise I’d survived; later, when the true enormity of what had taken place hit me, my hands began shaking.

Gravity yanked me down several times, sometimes in obviously dangerous situations, but again, injury or death passed me by, sometimes by inches. My grandfather used to say, “An inch or a mile, makes no difference!” Well, easier said than lived! After so many close calls, it’s safe to say I’m still supposed to be here.

The old-timers had a hardened approach to life. Difficult times and the Depression allowed no weakness, no time to feel sorry for yourself. You had to work, scrimp and save, stretch your limited resources to survive. Those times made people tough and, perhaps surprisingly, appreciative for what they had, even if little, and more loving.

Perhaps, the hotter the forge, the stronger the steel. One doesn’t hear sayings like that nowadays, do you?

With Jane gone there’s a huge gap in my life, an emptiness that can’t truly be filled. Luckily, family, love of the outdoors and good friends act as a safety net and allow me to look forward to the upcoming year.

January, February and March are the slow months, of course, but there are things one can accomplish. If the snow isn’t terrible there’s firewood to cut, time to catch up on my fish taxidermy business, gun stocks to refinish, perhaps glass-bed my .243, load some ammo, etc.

I’m hopeful there won’t be additional heavy snow to shovel, my back objects strenuously to shoveling and isn’t shy about telling me so. Thank goodness for ibuprofen. I may ice fish, but my heart just isn’t in it. So it goes. Some do exceptionally well ice fishing of course; good for them.

My heart yearns for trout season for several reasons. First, it’s the true start of spring. The musical waters sing to me as they rush by, laughing, splashing, swirling and in those depths swim those marvelous, beautiful trout if only you can catch them. The red-winged blackbirds perch high in the willows, their crimson red wing patches shining in the sun, their thrilling song an indelible magic to your ears, a melody that reaches deep into your soul, stirring countless memories of seasons past, forecasting those and to come.

Fish hard in April, for gobbler season immediately follows, monopolizing all your time. It takes extra effort to fish after a hard morning’s hunt. Big pike prowl the shallows this time of year, walleyes are in as well. You’d have to be several people to follow all your passions. Before you can blink, June arrives and bass are in as is my annual fishing trip to Maine.

Of course, one must look ahead and begin preparing your food plots. Hopefully, we won’t experience a drought this year. What a disaster — so much effort and expense for nothing in 2025.

Time increases speed in September and, suddenly, archery, muzzleloader, squirrel, waterfowl are in as time spins crazily out of control. You blink a couple of times and it’s 2027.

New Year goals? Stay in shape, increase my spirituality, spend less money, appreciate all those who care about me and be sensitive to those in need.

And, dear readers, may my words continue to touch your interests, hearts and souls.

God bless.