Hi all.....Yes.....the HUNT. It is a basic human instinct. Especially in the male species of our race. It goes back to our cave man days of survival I guess. You know....Survival, hunter, gatherier, provider etc. Even war, fighting & conquering. These instincts have sort of been replaced in the so called modern age, for most of us anyway apart from governments, by sport, hunting & finding. The fighting & conquering instinct has been fafilled by sports such as rugby, soccer, gridiron, baseball, basketball etc. You know....two teams battling it out to the death. There can only be one winner.....right? The hunting & gathering instinct, although still for the same reason, food, by fishing, wildlife hunting & stalking etc. With the hunting & gathering instinct comes the CHALLENGES & ADVENTURES that need to be overcome. The study & research. The thinking & planning involved. Reading of the land & the enviroment & the obsticles in the way that need to be overcome. Out smarting nature & devising ways to WIN etc. To walk away with what ever it is you seek. In our case it is gold or minerals that the earth is so eager to hide & squirrel away from us.
So yes.....the HUNT & all those CHALLENGES that go with it in our quest. It involves all of the above CHALLENGES to our instincts. The satisfaction & feel we get when we CONQUER & recover the bounty we are looking for. Weather it is for financial reasons, or an excuse to just get out into the beautiful wild blue yonder & share special times with special like minded people, gold of another kind, or just get out of our zone. Be the reward so often so small today.....but it is what makes us keep on at it year after year........ INSTINCT, FRIENDSHIP, LOVE FOR THE OUTDOORS, REWARD.
Here is a poem. Author unkown. Enjoy.
THE PROSPECTOR
Sitting by the fireside, staring into flames.
Remembering lonely diggings,
Which now are only names.
Seeing in my minds eye,
Beneath the gravels swish.
The glitter of the gold
In the bottom of the dish.
I feel the icy water
Swirling round my hands.
I feel my fingers raking
The dirt & stones & sands.
I feel the the sudden surge
Of the miners greedy wish.
The sight of little nuggets
In the bottom of the dish.
I've hunted in the mountains,
I've shot an eighteen pointer stag.
I've tramped the streams of Southland,
And carried home a bag.
But more thrilling than the stalking,
Or the tug of a fighting fish.
Is the glimpse of flaky gold,
In the bottom of the dish.
They think Im sleeping soundly,
Sitting here so still.
But though my limbs are quiet now,
My mind roams free at will.
And sees beside the river,
Even while they're saying " shish".
The glitter of the gold,
In the bottom of the dish.
JW
pan due to damn dredging ban 
