photos by Brad DyeThere’s something magical about watching a sunrise, especially when you watch it from one of your favorite outdoor places.

I studied the weather all weekend, hoping for a change in the wind direction that would allow me to hunt the area the big buck had been frequenting. It looked like Monday would finally be the day.

Based on the prevailing wind and the dramatic drop in temperature overnight, Monday morning held promise. I was giddy with delight as I dressed to head out. It would be my first time this season to hunt the stand we call the High Road, as well as my first time to hunt from the old hunting blind I moved there earlier in the fall.

Settling into the weathered blind in the darkness before dawn, I awaited the coming sunrise. As the woods around me came to life, filled with the familiar morning song of the cardinal, I watched the sky awaken in the east, a beautiful palette of purple, orange and blue.

In past seasons, we hunted the High Road from a ladder stand which is still there and still in use. I moved the blind for days like Monday when rain (and a little sleet), wind and temps in the 20s make having a bit more shelter a nice option.

From the new vantage point of the blind, the familiar site where I have spent hours hunting over the past several seasons looked different. It had the feel of hunting a place for the first time, which got me excited. It also got me thinking.

A week earlier, I had surgery on my hand. Trigger finger release surgery to be specific. I had been dealing with the issue for a couple of years and it finally got to the point that I had to address it. A middle finger that locks whenever you grip something is a problem, especially when it’s on your dominant hand.

By Monday, I was using my hand normally again and, although it was still a bit sore from the surgery, I was almost as good as new (special thanks to Dr. Jimbo Green for that). However, being limited to the use of one hand for several days taught me a valuable lesson about how much we take things for granted.

The thought hit me early in the week when I was struggling to manage through a work day with one hand. I realized at that moment, when I was, if I’m honest, a bit put out over my struggle, that my short-term one-handedness paled in comparison to the trials that many others around me faced.

It was a humbling realization that turned my woe-is-me attitude of the moment into an attitude of gratefulness, a spirit of appreciation for all that I have.

As I sat in the stand reading José Ortega y Gasset’s “Meditations on Hunting” on Saturday morning, stopping from time to time to scan the woods for movement, I thought again about gratitude, about not taking our blessings for granted, and about Christmas.

How often are we underwhelmed by our surroundings, by the beauty, majesty and miraculous life that surrounds us? How often do we enter this season, the joyous season of Christmas, in a spirit of simply “going through the motions?”

As I sat pondering these greater questions of life while reading, I caught movement in my peripheral vision. A doe and her twins stepped noiselessly from a thicket into the the lane that I was watching.

For the next hour or so, I watched the trio as they fed along the browse that lined the lane. One of the fawns had two solid white front legs. He became “Two Socks,” and I pondered if perhaps he (or she) shared some of the same genetics as the piebald doe that we have now watched for several seasons on the farm.

Watching the fawns frolic about under the watchful eyes of their mother was the highlight of my afternoon and a lovely reminder of the wonder that exists all around us if we will only take time to tune in and notice.

The words of writer Jim Harrison came to mind, “Life is the small pieces.” My hand helped remind me not to take things for granted, and I can’t think of a better perspective to have going into the Christmas holidays.

Watching “Two Socks” and his brother (or sister) and their mother also reminded me of something about the wonder that surrounds us everywhere in the outdoors and what effect that wonder has on me. Harrison had something to say about that as well. In his words, “I find that I have to spend a great deal of time alone in the natural world to be of any use to anyone else.”

Here’s to a spirit of gratitude for all that we have, to being in tune to the wonder that surrounds us, and here’s to seeing you out there in our great outdoors. Until next time, Merry Christmas to all of you!

Email outdoors columnist Brad Dye at braddye@comcast.net.