Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

Published 3:43 pm Thursday, December 11, 2025

It sits roughly 100 yards from one of the busiest roads in the county.  I can literally open the gate, park my truck, walk 75 yards, step inside the old blind, and I’m hunting.  The “right spot” doesn’t always happen to be in an ideal location and this spot certainly isn’t, but it’s one of my favorites, nonetheless.

The trees in the section of the pine plantation leading up to the old structure have grown big enough over the past few years that I can no longer see cars or their headlights passing on the road when I look over my shoulder. That wasn’t the case just a few years ago.

A smoke phase wild turkey is a rare sight. I enjoyed watching this beautiful and unique hen from my old blind this past weekend. Photo by Brad Dye

Those pines also help with the road noise, which can be an issue when you’re trying to hear the crunching of leaves, the signal that something is coming out of the dense thickets bordering the lane which the blind overlooks.

There’s a two-person ladder stand next to the blind that rarely sees use any longer.  I still maintain it, checking it each season, loosening and replacing the straps and checking all the connecting nuts and bolts.  I’ve taken several good bucks from that ladder stand.  It’s a great stand, but to be honest, I don’t like climbing to hunt anymore.

The blind has seen many seasons.  When I found it five years ago, it looked rough.  As narrow as it was, it reminded me of an old outhouse.  “It’s not much to look at,” would have been an understatement then.  It still would.

A huge hole gnawed through the floor added to the outhouse vibe.  It was inhabited either by squirrels, based on the piles of acorn shells littering what remained of the floor, or perhaps field mice as there were enough droppings that hantavirus seemed a valid concern.

Fortunately, the hole in the floor allowed most of the detritus of neglect to shake out when I strapped the blind to the front bucket of the tractor and lifted and slowly relocated it to its current location.  I hardly had to sweep it out after the move.

Last year, Dan and I upgraded it with a new floor and sub roof.  Copious amounts of silicone sealant allowed us to patch and reuse the rusted tin that covered the roof; however, recent rains last week exposed the fact that I may need to purchase a few new sheets of tin.

I noticed water stains on the plywood ceiling when I stepped into the blind Saturday afternoon.  Before sitting down, I felt the seat of the old office chair that we somehow wedged into the narrow confines to confirm what I already suspected.  It was more than a little damp from leak.  I added replacing the tin to my to-do list.

Fortunately, I had come prepared.  A couple of thick, waterproof “ThermaSeat” cushions prevented a case of the “wet bum” and made for a comfortable afternoon sit, even with temps in the upper 30s.

After taking a seat on my newly constructed waterproof nest, I raised and adjusted the “window” (a section of camouflage burlap), loaded my rifle, and settled in for the hunt.

Within minutes a doe appeared at the end of the lane and, moments later, a small six-point emerged from the thicket in pursuit.  I watched turkeys and deer come and go throughout the afternoon, waiting for the big 8-point buck I had seen the prior week.

At some point during the afternoon, between watching wildlife and examining the roof to determine how much tin I needed, I received a text from a friend.  He was hunting with his grandson in a new prefab blind that he had erected on his land earlier this year.

I studied the picture, carefully examining their surroundings.  The new blind was immaculate.  There were no water stains on the walls and roof, and no questionable critter droppings on the floor.  It looked warm, with no open cracks, and real windows that opened and closed.

Was I a tad jealous?  Not in the least.  Their smiles told me that they were having the time of their lives, and to be honest, I was as well.

Those smiles matched the one that had been on my face moments earlier when a huge flock of turkeys emerged from the thicket into the lane.  One of those turkeys was a smoke phase hen that I had previously only seen on game camera photos. My heart raced as I watched her and snapped a few pics with my phone.

The old blind will eventually need to be replaced.  Like me, it has a few years on it and is certainly showing its age.  Maybe one day I’ll have a granddaughter or grandson to take along with me to the blind and, by then, I’ll want a “facility upgrade.”

I’ll need something bigger, something sealed and insulated with room for at least two people.  However, for now, this old blind works just fine.  With a little patching, it should see at least a couple more seasons.  Three sheets of tin should do the trick.

There are still memories to be made here, for me, for my family, and for my pal “Stuart Little,” who, I’ve noticed, seems to be stockpiling acorns for the winter underneath the old rug in the corner behind the chair.

Until next time, here’s to the outdoor spaces we love (even those with imperfections), to the memories we make there, and here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.