New morning mercies

Published 1:30 pm Thursday, February 5, 2026

“For her, every day was the same, and when each day is the same as the next it’s because people fail to recognize the good things that happen in their lives every day the sun rises.” – Paulo Coelho, “The Alchemist”

“How many times have I made this walk, climbed this hill?”  The thought came to mind as I made my way in to hunt Saturday morning.  The temperature had bottomed out at 15 degrees just in time for my morning stroll, and the wind, which could best be described as fierce, added to the chill with a “ReelFeel” of -4.

I had checked the AccuWeather app on my phone before stepping out of the comfort of my warm truck and into the Arctic blast that had enveloped Mississippi.  It was cold; however, I felt a warmth deep inside.  I was also dressed in enough wool and down to make even the wooliest sheep or downiest goose jealous.

After settling into the elevated blind, I lit the small propane heater that I had brought along as a hedge against the cold and turned in my chair to watch the sunrise.  “How many sunrises have I watched from the Big Field,” I wondered as I stared toward the horizon through the gloaming.

Truth be told, the spot is one of my favorites in this world, home to so many wonderful memories with family and friends over the years.  Sitting there watching the first hints of light begin to penetrate the darkness, I thought of the words of Coelho, and I realized just how blessed I was, on this last day of the Mississippi deer season, to see one more sunrise in one of my favorite places.

The words of angler and outdoorsman Flip Pallot also came to mind: “I think that it’s important, in some ways that I can’t really codify, that we see as many sunrises and sunsets as we can.  I think it’s cathartic in some ways.  I think it matters.”

Pallot, who we lost in 2025 due to complications from surgery, was, in my humble opinion, one of our greatest outdoorsmen.  He was a true journeyman as an angler, traditional bowhunter, conservationist, environmental activist, chef and ambassador for all things outdoors.  If there ever was a “world’s most interesting man,” Pallot holds that title.

His loss last year makes his words hit even harder.  Every sunrise should be savored as if it were our last.  I marinated in that reality as I turned to watch the two game trails that entered the upper end of the field.

Over the course of this deer season, I watched countless bucks and does come up those trails out of the thickets that bordered each side of the field’s upper corner.  It had been a hotspot all season, and I suspected the same would be true for this last morning.

Moments later, a trio of does emerged from the path followed by a nice young eight-point buck.  “I can’t wait to see him in a couple of years,” I thought as I watched the group make its way into the field to feed.

It had been a season filled with young bucks at the farm, more than I’ve ever seen before.  It had also been an amazing deer season.  I’d had encounters with mature bucks from start to finish, I’d seen more deer this season than in any prior season, and the entire herd looked healthy.  I also had fresh venison in the freezer.

I was lost in thought when a bright red flash caught my eye.  A cardinal, feathers fluffed against the bitter wind, had lit in the bare limbs of an American beautyberry at the thicket’s edge.  As I watched him through the binoculars, I thought of Pop.

So many of the memories from this spot had been shared with him.  That’s why the Big Field, for me, is a place that embodies the Welsh word “cynefin.”  It’s a place where I’ve always felt that I belong.

As the deer fed across the field, I noticed several other cardinals had joined their friend in the beauty-berry, a conclave of sorts here in the wild.  “We must be doing something right in this place, Pop.”

Throughout the morning, deer came and went.  Aside from a brief respite for lunch and to resupply propane for my portable heater, I spent the entire last day of season in the aged old wooden blind that sits atop the knoll at the apex of what Pop so aptly named the Big Field years ago.

As I watched the sunset from the western window of the weathered blind, I reflected on the words of Coelho and Pallot.  Much good had happened here this day, much renewal.  The season had drawn to a close in silence.  However, the young bucks, does, and wild turkeys that I had watched left me with a bright vision of the future, a promise of things to come.

Walking out that evening in the light of the full moon, I thought back on the beauty of another sunrise and sunset, bookends to what had been another fantastic hunting season at the farm.  Part of a Bible verse came to mind: “…His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning…”

Until next time, here’s to sunrises and sunsets, here’s to mercies that are new every morning (if we’ll only take the time to look), and here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors.