There is a certain kind of silence that only exists deep in the woods, right before the sun dips below the cypress trees. Most people find it unsettling, but I find it honest. Unlike the voices back home, the swamp doesn't judge—it just survives. Just finished tracking a deer near the creek; my hands are stained with earth, but at least my mind is clear. Does anyone else feel more at peace when they're miles away from civilization, or am I just becoming as wild as the landscape?