Dense clouds and wisps of fog covered the landscape as I drove to work through the darkness of the morning. At times, the mist of this heavy blanket and vaporizing shapes gave the illusion of a deer crossing the road.

It was an intense drive, so I tried to focus on the road ahead. Yet, my mind kept wandering back to one of my first deer-hunting trips in upstate New York.

On that trip, my dad and I hunted whitetails hard for most of the morning. The fall colors were beautiful, and we saw a few does. Early in the afternoon, we ran across two young fellows about 30 years of  age. They were “turned around” and asked my dad for some assistance. My dad got them placed on the map, and they were astonished to realize they were quite a ways from the place where they had parked.

The poor guys were exhausted and hungry. My dad offered the guys parts of our sandwiches, fruit and candy bars. Quite thankful, the men gobbled down the food between saying thanks to us several times. We fed them most all our food and gave them a ride back to their truck. The hunters offered dad some money for gas and the food, but true to his nature, my father would not accept anything in return.

After dropping them off, I mentioned to my father that now we had no lunch. He just smiled and told me, “It is easy to give when you have a lot. But when you have just a little, it means much more. How did it feel to help those guys out, Bri?”   

I replied, “That felt really good, dad.”  

He smiled again, and I have never forgotten that lesson. My dad was a very wise man, and he taught me and my brothers many valuable lessons for life.

Hunters have a great bond. Folks from every age, political belief, geographic location and stance on environmental issues come together in the fall and unite. Guys and gals come together for many reasons, some similar and some quite different.

There are folks who really need the meat to survive, and there are trophy hunters. The gamut runs from RV campers to backpackers. Some people really enjoy the companionship of the camp setting. For others, it’s the self reliance of pitting themselves against nature and emerging successful. Family folks like teaching the traditions of hunting to their kin. No matter what, you will see these folks helping each other drag out bucks, get out of the ditch, and give rides and food to their fellow hunters. It’s a beautiful thing.

I see it on our outdoor education programs too. Participants, sometimes total strangers, come to hike and learn about their environs. But there is always some adversity in hiking. Nasty weather, steep ground, wet terrain brutal heat, deep snow or digging out footholds through avalanche chutes. Somehow, they always come together to help each other out.

Adversity creates bonds, deep and long lasting.

Military veterans know this bond better than most of us. They say there is no stronger tie than having lived through combat together. And, while this month is marked by hunting season, it is also a time to honor our veterans for their service and recognize the bonds that they have with each other.

My dad, a veteran of Normandy and the Battle of the Bulge, also taught my brothers and me that lesson too. He was proud but humble, and he often said the real heroes were the guys who did not come back.

Let’s try to remember our friends and neighbors this Veterans Day. These men and women sacrificed for us for many reasons, including that we may go out hunting and recreating outdoors in this great country of ours.

Thanks to Ken Mancuso, Terry Andreessen and all of the others who worked to secure a new veterans memorial in Lincoln County.

Thanks to Camp Patriot for helping out our distinguished veterans.

Thanks to all veterans for the innumerable sacrifices that were made for the rest of us.

Hunters number about 40 million armed citizens in the United States. We cherish our freedom and the bonds we form with each other each year as the season turns from fall to winter. Please remember these bonds this hunting season and help each other out if needed.

As I continued my morning drive through the shape-shifting fog, the paleness of the morning sun created a surreal green-gray color in the sky. In the distance, the lights of a distant pickup truck were visible up on the hill - probably hunters.

I like working in the woods, but, for some reason, I wish I was hunting.

(Brian Baxter is a naturalist and outdoor columnist for The Western News.)