Fall carries beneath its bold colors and cool sunny days a whisper of the struggle for life that comes with winter. The Hunter's Moon rises from the edge of the prairie,its red a nighttime reflection of the red of blood spilled out during the day over prairie earth and scattered among the forest leaves in the battle to survive. The hunter posted in good cover and perfectly still waits for the fullness of his time, and watches curiously as two long-legged spiders before him each stalk the other in a delicate dance touching lightly,having nothing much to eat. As the afternoon sun gives way to the dim evening light and long shadows, a cooler breeze brushes away what warmth he felt just a short time ago. A shiver signals the end of his wait and with one last look around he breathes a deep sigh and moves out toward home. Nothing to bring back tonight. Perhaps tomorrow will bring something better. The Hunter's Moon, brighter each night than the last, ascends the horizon to the East and displays its dull red color. There is some comfort in its glow.