The Hunter
I am a hunter but, I don't kill things. I have no gun but, I am good at hunting. I always find prey but, the prey is not a living organism. It is neither dead or alive. It is just there waiting. It is not scared or afraid of the human touch. It offers no resistance, struggle, or emotion. It can be both cold hot depending on the weather or the season... Hunting season.

The Reason
To hunt is to live, to find, and to kill. Killing yourself to live. Hunting is fun. But can be hazardous. To your health. If you are not careful. Of Poachers. And the long arm of the law. Johnny Law is not your friend when it comes to hunting. He is your enemy. An inspiration to crawl underground and hunt successfully right under his nose. Operation Hunter. Quiet like an Indian. Not a sound. Don't move. Wait. Patiently. Stay downwind so they can't smell you. He says. Use your head. Think. Wisely. Like a hunter. Or a warrior. You have to be smarter than your opponent. Have a plan. And a back-up plan. Just in case. Of an emergency. Be ready for anything. Stay alert. Stay alive. While hunting. Search for the weak. And left behind. Take advantage of the situation. But work quickly. Leave no evidence. Of your hunting. You can hunt in the woods and mountains but the cities are best. For hunting. Lots of prey. Falling between the cracks. The good,bad,and the ugly. The forgotten. Living in squalor. Poverty. Diseased. A blessing in disguise. For the hunter. Makes hunting easier. Disasters. Fires. Floods. Gods wrath. The hunter loves it. It is sad, but inevitable. The stronger survive. The weak die. Is nature to blame?The Devil?Is anybody laughing?The hunter is smiling. To himself. For his passion. And knowledge. Of being a hunter. Is he faster and stronger. Than the rest?Just older and wiser. More experienced. Maybe even lucky. To live. He has lived over 30 seasons. Of hunting. May the Gods let him live a long life. Of Hunting. And good luck. He will follow the old ones' ways. It is passed on from father to son. My father is a hunter. Thank you father for passing the stick to me. The hunting stick. Wooden. Strong. Blessed. By the witchdoctor. For happy hunting. For good hunting. He remembers. The rules. Taught by the elders. Who have now put down their hunting sticks. Respect your elders. And learn. About hunting. No guns. No knives. No bows. Just the hunting stick. Your stick is your friend. Fight with it. Sleep with it. Practice with it. It is part of you. Your hunting stick. The hunter goes no where without the hunting stick. You need the stick to hunt. To stalk. To overcome. Your enemies. Your foes. Your prey. Celebrate in victory. With the hunter dance. Eat. Drink. Be thankful. To the Gods. For letting you hunt Successfully. The Gods have blessed the hunter with his skills. And he is thankful. Thank you. He says. Looking up at the stars. And thinking of his fallen comrades. Heroes of past battles. From days gone by. They were brave. And fought hard. It was a good day to die. Hunters hunting. Hunters dying. They did not die in vain. Never forget. Their faces. Their memories. They will live on forever. In our hearts. The fire burns bright. And strong. Never waining. In the westernly winds in the Valley of Smoke. The hunters will always hunt. And find prey. In the city. Or the forests. In the valleys. Wherever there is prey. Along the river that Divides. Water is scarce. The heat can kill you. If you hunt in the wrong place. Hunters. Watch out for bandits. And White Eyes. Easterners. Southerners. Traitors. Infiltrators. They are your enemies. Beware. Hunters. You can not trust the outsiders. They will try to hunt on your lands. They will try to be your freinds. And bring you gifts. From the outside world. Do not be confused. Stay focused. And true to your roots. The elders said. Watch your back. Plant some eyes in the back of your head. Fellow hunters. Form an alliance. To drive out the outsiders. The traitors. The infiltrators. Who do not thank the Gods. For hunting. Raping the land.

Do not trust Easterners from the land of Benjaman Franklin. The outsiders pillage the land for their own greed and glory. Another Buffalo gone, extinct, and never to be seen again. Go home outsider. You walk the road to ruin.

Real Hunters
They have hunted for many moons before you were born. Respect the hunting grounds you come across. Thats' what the elders taught us.

Hunters, the tribe who live in the Valley of Smoke underneath the mountain of the Bald Eagle...

We are the hunters.



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