An homage to “the sit”—those endless hours of solitude, watching the hunting magic unfold

I think any time spent afield is a privilege, but I’ll take that solo morning sit above all else.

I’m talking about getting into position in the dark, finding the perfect spot with just the right vantage point and just enough cover that game won’t know you’re there. Or venturing under moonlight to that blind or stand you’d set up before the season even got underway.

For me, the why of the sit doesn’t matter so much as the when. If I were to have it my way, my sit would always begin before first light, before the landscape awakens and the legal shooting hours arrive. I want to hear the woods and marshes come to life, that harmonious morning choir of the wild filling the still air. It’s what I long for each spring and fall. I want to hear a shock gobble from across the field, and the whistling of wings above the cattails. And few things compare to the stillness of the morning woods or the cool breeze rustling through the marsh as you sit motionless, watching it all unfold.

As with the deer hunters of fall, I also like to take a sit in a treestand, albeit in June, after the blackflies have tapered off and the black bears are on the move instead. Mornings aside, I’ll also gladly soak in a spring evening’s dying southwest wind, letting the silence descend all around me, heightening my senses to all but the most subtle of movements below the stand. Unlike the autumn mallards that come screaming in from above, or the spring toms that alert the entire countryside, bears move like silent ghosts. All of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, they just appear. Deer hunters know the same feeling.

Wherever and whatever you hunt, and no matter the result, a good sit always leaves you wanting just one thing: to do it all over again.