Get 20M+ Full-Text Papers For Less Than $1.50/day. Start a 14-Day Trial for You or Your Team.

Learn More →

The Hunter's Afterlife

The Hunter's Afterlife THE HUNTER’S AFTERLIFE Ten bags of decoys nest in the basement; twelve rubber waders, like half-torsos, hang from the ceiling; shotguns fill two steel safes; there’s a duck call for every breed he knows. His pile of possessions constantly grows like sandbags to hold back the rising flood. Bury him with one of each, a pharaoh crossing to a happy hunting ground, heaven of frigid dawns, duck blinds, deer stands at dusk, where animals come to him without fear when he speaks the language he knows by heart, his rubber-coated waders grow webbed, wings spring from his sloped shoulders, or antlers sprout from his skull. Forgiven, he has no need of things to run with the herd or fly with the flock, and when the sun sets the swamp on fire, he runs faster, ascends higher. Such lightness, father, as you would never know on earth. VIRGINIA OTTLEY CRAIGHILL http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

The Hunter's Afterlife

Appalachian Review , Volume 49 (1) – Apr 29, 2021

Loading next page...
 
/lp/university-of-north-carolina-press/the-hunter-apos-s-afterlife-kV5bm3aQyx

References

References for this paper are not available at this time. We will be adding them shortly, thank you for your patience.

Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

THE HUNTER’S AFTERLIFE Ten bags of decoys nest in the basement; twelve rubber waders, like half-torsos, hang from the ceiling; shotguns fill two steel safes; there’s a duck call for every breed he knows. His pile of possessions constantly grows like sandbags to hold back the rising flood. Bury him with one of each, a pharaoh crossing to a happy hunting ground, heaven of frigid dawns, duck blinds, deer stands at dusk, where animals come to him without fear when he speaks the language he knows by heart, his rubber-coated waders grow webbed, wings spring from his sloped shoulders, or antlers sprout from his skull. Forgiven, he has no need of things to run with the herd or fly with the flock, and when the sun sets the swamp on fire, he runs faster, ascends higher. Such lightness, father, as you would never know on earth. VIRGINIA OTTLEY CRAIGHILL

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Apr 29, 2021

There are no references for this article.