By Mike Oosting

Pit, Pat, Pit, Pat….., Great, I made myself look like an idiot! Chicken , that word echoed around my head. Who did he think he was? That fat tub of flub would wet him self if he even looked at that hill!

Then an idea popped into my head, what if I proved him wrong? What if I actually went to the hill! What if I went to the top!

As I awoke from this thought, my Gramma’s faithful lab Oscar trotted his way up to me and sat down, waiting for his morning walk.

“Hmmmm….” Oscar whined.

“You want to go for a walk!” I teased him in a taunting voice.

“ Aaaarrrrr!” he yipped in excitement.

“Well this time” I said, “we’re going a bit farther back”

“ Mmmmm? ” Oscar tilted his head questioningly. Then appeared to, without warning, give up asking questions and marched toward the field.

“Good boy” I whispered, then picking up my hatchet I ran after the yellow bobbing body of Oscar. Gonna need that, I thought.

The fields are safe, 4 wheeler holes and walking paths criss-cross all through it, leaving little room for a bear’s den or a coyote’s knot hole. But beyond the fields lies the backwoods, riddled with carcasses and animal dens of all varieties. Then beyond that there was the hill, kite hill. It was massive and surrounded by the ominous backwoods, it was enough to keep me away, but not anymore.

I dodged through fields Oscar in tow. Soon enough we reached the tree line boundary of the border to the backwoods. I gulped, this is it, I thought, I’m going to kite hill. Slowly, I entered the tree’s and left the fields.

The backwoods were ominous and often I wanted to turn back, but I didn’t, I kept going. When I turned onto an animal-made path some 200m into the backwoods Oscar whimpered.