Pisces (February 19 – March 20)
The Ghost in the Treestand: The Pisces Hunter
A Pisces doesn’t just go into the woods; they sort of… leak into them. I remember this one Tuesday in mid-November, down in a bottomland swamp where the air tasted like wet oak leaves and old moss. My buddy, a textbook Pisces, wasn’t even looking at his watch or checking a map. He just stood there, staring into a wall of gray fog like he was reading a book. “They’re coming through the laurel,” he muttered, not even turning his head. Five minutes later? A heavy-racked buck stepped out, ghost-quiet, exactly where he’d felt it would be. It wasn’t logic. It was that weird, bone-deep intuition that makes a Pisces hunter feel less like a person and more like part of the scenery.
That’s their edge: they don’t fight the woods. While a Type-A hunter is busy obsessing over gear ratios or wind-speed apps, the Pisces is just “flowing”. They have this radiator-like patience, a quiet stillness that can sit through a bone-chilling drizzle without shifting a boot. To them, the hunt is almost a psychic conversation. They notice the weird stuff—the way the squirrels suddenly stop chattering or a shift in the “mood” of a ridgeline. They aren’t trying to conquer the mountain; they’re trying to vibrate at the same frequency as the deer. When they finally take the shot, it’s usually preceded by a long, silent moment of “thank you.” They’re the most empathetic, eerily accurate woodsmen I’ve ever shared a camp with.
