Longing for more bush

After days in native alpine vegetation, terrible windy, wet, even snowy. Having seen only a couple other hunting humans and less deer, I woke up this morning facing reality and realised I smelled worse than an old billy.

Family must be feeling sorry for me for spending all that time searching and stalking and walking, because no-one not even the cheekiest little one warned me how bad I actually smelled.

I wondered and pondered what work might be after being free for so long, at the will of only the wind.

Concluding work will never be anywhere near as good as even the worst 10 days of hunting, and spurred on by an angry roar from across the creek.

I decided fu#k it. I'm not showering to please anyone, the smell I've accumulated in this wonderland our bush is to be cherished and celebrated, not embarrassed by or frowned upon.

I'd rather be a happy stinky bastard reminiscent of adventures been, than clean and miserable washing away the memory of the hunt.