During the previous autumn, I luckily got this wood grouse while my friends and I were hiking. At the same time, one of my uncles lied in a hospital bed. He had serious lung problems and I can only imagine how terrible the condition felt, being half choked all the time. When my father told his brother about my catch, my uncle became very happy. I believe that he flew back into his youth, in the time when he was healthy and wandered through these northern forests like I do now. My uncle died yesterday and now many of us miss the funny, verbally quick-witted, fine uncle.
My father taught me how to seek and catch grouses. My father and uncle got the same gift from my grandfather and together we all got these skills from our ancestors. Like said, we are the pieces of this long and fragile chain, someone of us still playing the eternal chess game between human and prey. Searching and hunting is natural behavior of human beings, and during the most exciting moments one can feel how the blood almost boils inside of chest. Thus, the only thing I can do, and I will, is to put one feather of the wood grouse in my uncle’s grave, after my father and I have carried him to his final resting place.