One notable experience I have had since we bought the Wisconsin cabin is that I am becoming accostomed to and accepting of the sounds of...
...gunshots.
Its strange to think that I'd choose to leave the noise of traffic and instead sit outside with the sounds of shotguns, and sometimes even automatic weapons, going off in the surrounding forest and countryside.
Truly, I will admit, that last summer, when I first heard it, I began to have regrets about our purchase. It unnerved me.
But I did some reading, talked to hunters in my family, and began to learn that the shots were quite far off. And it takes only one drive down county highway C to see the scores of deer and turkey and realize that our little woodsy home is a hunter's paradise.
Almost everyone I have met up there, including the realtors who helped us buy our home, are both avid fishermen/women and hunters. And those who do hunt do it partly for sport, partly for food. That is, it is not so much to mount the head of a buck on the wall but to load up a freezer with (imo) delicous, organic game meats to last through the harsh winters. It is ingrained in much of Wisconsin culture. In fact, I had a friend in college, Wisconsin born and bred, who wrote his senior thesis on the subculture of Wisconsin deer hunting.
As a welcome to the neighborhood last year, one neighbor brought us some frozen venison filets from a deer he shot near our property. They were GOOD! (I marinade them in dijon mustard, soy, and olive oil before broiling or grilling them)
During the week, it is incredibly quiet up there, the only "loud" noises are the squawks of crows or blue jays. Weekends bring the sportsmen/women.
Last weekend during the afternoons, the sounds of gunshot rang through the air. The frequency of the shots led me to belive that a target range was set up in the shooter's yard for practice (or even just for fun.) I was still slightly rattled.
Then I recalled an image that set me at ease. I thought of Mr. Darcy and entourage (From Jane Austen'siconic
Pride and Predjudice) at a shooting party on an estate in the English countryside in the 1800's.
How genteel! How "Lord-of-the-Manor!"
OK, maybe I will get used to those tell-tale popping sounds over time. But I know I'm not yet ready to be up North during full-fledged deer gun season (November). My neighbor who brought the filets noted that, "During gun season it sounds like the civil war up here!"
But there are truly serene moments, as evidenced by the pic below. This is my daughter last weekend, fishing on a secluded beach on Lake Petenwell:
