OUTDOORS COLUMN: Wandering windward

Sometimes the wind is wicked. Sometimes it twists and turns, blowing chaos and destruction. At such times I fear the wind and dread its very presence.

Sometimes, though, the wind is kind, cooling with wafting breezes a sweat-soaked brow on a hot, humid summer afternoon. Or perhaps lulling one to sleep in a gently swaying hammock during a fall evening.

Sometimes the wind makes gentle mischief, continually blowing my too-light boat beyond casting distance of a crappie school or shellcracker bed. Sometimes it rocks my pine tree perch and disallows all attempts at accurate aiming, letting the deer walk away unscathed.

Sometimes the wind breathes cold. It hurts ears, noses and other naked protuberances. It makes tears come, not from pain or sadness, but in defense of eyes that would suffer greatly from wind-dryness. It often causes frigid fingers to disobey time-sensitive commands, be they orders to reel, cast, squeeze a trigger or focus binoculars.

Yes, the wind is a fickle and sometimes contemptuous companion.

But not this morning. This day it blows neither hot nor cold. My body produces no perspiration. There is no humidity-fueled shortness of breath. I suffer not from wind-numbed, brittle, frostbitten appendages.

Not to say the wind is not alive today. On the contrary, a stiff, steady breeze is blowing. It blows, however, to my advantage, not my discomfort or aggravation. It is a good wind. A woods-walk wind.

Moving through the trees with this wind in my face, I see things I might not otherwise. The wind