There are two magical times in nature that any hunter,
photographer, or simple admirer will point to; dawn and dusk. While the majority of the world may revel in
the bright warm sunlight for their outdoor activities, those truly intimate
with nature seek these daily fringes.
What is it about these times that hold us so magically captivated?
Certainly the beauty of sunsets and sunrises have unfathomable attraction. The
various hues of orange, gold, purple, and fire red can render the otherwise
blue-and-black canvas a whirlpool of chaotic wonder. I sometimes fancy that
these displays are a special reward for those who leave the warmth of their
comfortable beds to awake with the frosty dawn and delay returning to them
until the yawning expanse of evening has grudgingly given way to night.
For me there is more though, a more primordial love
for dawn and dusk. Both my love for
photography and hunting are unified in an excitement piqued before the sun
begins its daily trek and after it descends to make the journey around
again. For it is during these times
nature seems most real, most alive.
Birds sing in the morning, a song to reassure each other that they are
still there after the long night, and again in the evening as if to wish each
other a good night. Squirrels scurry
busily about with renewed fervor in the morning and with increased purpose as
dusk falls. Elk and deer retreat from
their feeding in the open meadows to the safety of the woods as the cover of
night retreats from the sun, and venture out to fill their empty stomachs after
the fiery orb has nourished the grass they rely on. To all of this I am but a witness, an
observer locked out of the true cycle of nature. For soon after night fall I will return home,
to comforts necessary for my species survival. In the morning I will awake and
venture forth to nature again, having missed the regenerative time that exists
in the duality of activity and slumber. As
I watched the sunset recently in Rocky Mountain National Park, listening to
turkeys calling as they strutted off to their roosts, watched the elk feeding
contentedly in the meadow, followed the different birds as they streaked to
their nests, I was reminded of this separation.
While we may love nature, enjoy it, revel in it, and try to capture it
in a myriad of ways, we are unequivocally divided from it. And it is this division from it, this “otherness”
that gives nature its beauty. Just as dawn and dusk dividing the day from the
night give each circadian sect its beauty.
