Cold,I mean the kind of cold that chills to the bone.

The kind of cold that when you breath you can feel your lungs groan;

So cold when the wind brings a sting to your eyes,they are begging for moisture,but there are no tears to cry.

Dark.so black you can hardly see,it brings a strange kind or fear but a reverent kind of peace.

But you are peering out your window of your warm toasty home,

With a big cup of coffee with the weather channel on,

With one thought bombarding your mind,you had better hurry up you're falling behind.

Cause the truth is,it doesn't matter how serve the chill in the air. you won't be happy until you are out there

Now if you have never been there, you won't understand,I'll try to explain, not sure that I can.

It is a strange thing that draws on an outdoorsman.

I'm sure to some people the thrill is not enough,and to others the conditions seem a little too rough,

I want to be in that bottom , WHEN THE WOODS WAKE UP.

Your first customer rustles around his nest,it's the muscle bound squirrel with his white furry chest,

Bounces for the limb as if he was lunched from a spring,he's got a job to do and a song to sing.

Limb after limb and place after place,he's zigging and zagging at a furious pace.

But you better keep the little critter in sight,he'll sneak around behind you and bring your heart true fright.

I can't tell you how many times I have tight gripped the stock,clicked on the safety or pulled the hammer and lock,

Because I hear ol'big boy coming up through those trees,

To turn around and see that little rat bouncing around in the leaves.

Why,that sucker will drive a deer hunter insane, but the woods without them would not be the same.

Next thing you hear are the birds of the air, singing their songs to tell you they know that you're there.

Still dark,hardly anything has begun to move, as the old barred owl gives his last hotty hoot.

Down the woods just a piece,on the side of the tree,you hear a strange little tapping that turns into a famililar beat;

It's the redheaded woodpecker working so hard for such a small treat.

Just behind



you, there's a sound that your ears know so well,it't that good morning whistle of a bob white quail.

Just over in the beaver pond there's a splash and a dive,as wood duck fly in at 105.

A sharp sound brings to your ears an awesome pitch,as you look above and see the hawk circling, A hunter so fierce.

Then just over the ridge with a thundering squabble that ol'Tom turkey gives that good morning gobble.

I've seen him come by with his arrogant little hop;that little Gray fox wearing those black furry socks.

I've seen the worlds geatest fisherman by far it is the Otter, I've seen that cottonmouth snake glide through the swamp water.

Why, my heart has experienced the worlds greatest scare.

To be in a tree and see that graceful lumbering blackbear.

But the creature that brings me to the woods without fail, it's that beautiful deer, the old elusive whitetail.

Now some people say the sports greatest thrill is to mount that buck and brag about the kill

but that's not the experience that I rank number one.

I like to be in the stand watching those deer while I'm hunting with my(grand) son.
Now I'm sure up on Wall Street as they're eating a bagel, thery're reading the journal; Trying to finable the guy next to them out of different kind of buck. I 'm sure out in LA or some where close to the beach, they hunt a cold frappachino calling us outdoor freaks.

Or even in Atlanta while they're on the loop,

They program their palm pilot and they think that we're stoops.

But they've never been there, so they don't understand, if they were willing to try,I'd extend

them a hand, I think that they'd find the thrills more than enough:

I think they'ed enjoy it,even though the conditions are tough.

I'll see y'all in the morning when the woods wake up.





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dont let them bother you. they're the freaks