Our area’s rifle season opens next Saturday. Having sat out the last two seasons for various reasons, I admit that I am about to burst at the seams with excitement. And while I wait patiently, gathering clothes and knocking the dust off the gear, I can’t help but think back to previous seasons. I am going to apologize for the length ahead of time.
********************
My dad enjoyed hunting when I was young. He was a quail hunter and loved to train and work the dogs in the field. My dad wasn’t very good at training the dogs though. So when we went hunting, it was usually my dad, younger brother and I hiking all over creation chasing the dog who was interested in anything that qualified as “game” in his eyes. Some of the prettiest points that dog ever locked into often turned out to be armadillos, rabbits or turtles.
Being 7 or 8, dad hadn’t turned me (or my brother) loose with firearms yet…which often turned out to be wise on his behalf. We tagged along toting our Red Ryder BB guns shooting anything and everything we wanted to. One day while traipsing about, my brother and I discovered some local plants that produced a tall stalk about 2 or 3 ft tall which ended with a small cone of some type as a bud. We saw these as cheap reactive targets since upon sending a BB through them, you would get a small shower of petals. When you have spent two hours following a dog who is more interested in killing armadillos than pointing quail, our young minds start looking for something exciting.
As my brother and I carried on with our “competitive shooting” match, I found another of the cone buds a few feet in front of me. I ran up, pointed the muzzle of my Red Ryder at the little bud and pulled the trigger. I immediately heard a pained grunt and saw my dad flinch energetically about 15ft in front of me. In my haste, I had lined up my barrel and sent a BB straight into the back of my dad’s thigh. Thank god it wasn’t a .410 in my hands. Dad went to scolding both of us pretty heavily and demanded that we empty the ‘guns,’ but as was typical with him, I don’t remember any curse words. The rest of the trip was pretty quiet and somber as we followed him (limping) back to the truck.
After that dog got up in age, dad quit acquiring and training hunting dogs…and really gave up hunting all together. He always had to split his time between fishing and hunting, and discovered he much preferred fishing so he poured his recreational time there. He and I still regularly fish together, but I still think back to those early days when life was simpler for each of us and we were just hiking in the woods with dad, following that crazy dog. And every time I think of smacking his backside with a Red Ryder BB I can’t help but chuckle uncontrollably to myself.
********************
Been thinking about my uncle a lot too (mom’s brother). He was the man that got me into deer hunting back when I was 14. My first weapon procured in the pursuit of deer was a Traditions percussion muzzle-loader. My stepfather spent $100 dollars at a pawn shop for it so that he and I could hunt with my uncle in Florida’s primitive weapons season. I remember my uncle telling me to “shoot anything that comes by and we’ll get it out of here.” At the time, I didn’t know the season was for antlered bucks only. So when a doe came trotting out, I fired one off. When the cloud passed, there was no sign of her and we looked for about an hour for any tells of a hit before we decided the youngin’ just missed. The following year my Uncle told me he was walking by the exact spot he set me up at and noticed a tree had fallen right where I claimed the doe posed for me. He said about 5ft off the ground, a young pine had snapped over from a perfectly centered .50cal lead conical hit. True or not, it didn’t matter, I took some ribbing over the years for that…as a teenager should when starting their hunting career.
A year or two later, my uncle was invited to hunt on a coworker’s family property and managed to get me included in the permissions agreement. This was between 150 and 200 acres as I recall and just the three of us for the most part. We had a blast. The things I learned tagging along with my uncle about deer, land, and life were priceless. Truly some of the best times of my teenage youth were spent camping up there with my uncle. A month or two into the season, the coworker’s father (we’ll call him Pops) heard of our success, the quality of the land and the potential deer. Pops hadn’t been on the property in years and decided to come for a hunt one weekend while the other three of us were up there. Pops brought along his old trusty .30-30 and missed a shot at a big doe right at fading light. You could see the excitement in his eyes as he told us of his time on the stand after it had been years since his last time in the woods. To my recollection, we all had a blast.
A week later my uncle called, talked with my mother for a bit and hung up. She informed me that my permission to hunt the property had been rescinded. Apparently I offended Pops and was told I couldn’t come back. To this day, I don’t remember what I could have done or said to offend him and I suspect I was just easy to push out of the picture so Pops and his son could maximize their opportunities. I later asked my uncle if he took up for me and all he said was “I tried…but I want to hunt, so I had to keep my mouth shut or get kicked off too.” As a 16 year old full of short sighted judgement, I never really accepted his response and pretty much ignored him moving forward. Living 100 miles away from each other made it pretty easy to ignore that side of the family. That was 20 years ago and we never really put that past us. 10 years ago he was diagnosed with cancer. He fought it for a while, but 6 or 7 years ago it became too much and he threw in the towel.
Growing up, my uncle always had the funniest stories, best jokes and largest adventures. One of my few life regrets was never mending our differences and enjoying, together, what little time he had left.
********************
Back in Oct 2009, my then girlfriend (wife now) and I drove from south Alabama to upper Idaho to spend a week at her uncle’s cabin in the mountains. The plan was mostly a family get-together of sorts, but hunting was on the agenda and we had deer and elk tags between the lot of us. After driving 3.5 days to get there, we all relaxed that evening and slept in the following morning. From then on though, my future FIL and I spent the next 3 days driving and hiking the mountains before my GF would join us for the 4th day. I don’t know how many miles we hiked…but I know we did more talking and laughing together than truly “hunting.”
We talked about previous hunts, prior loves, rifles, fishing…you name it. I learned more about him, my future MIL and even my future wife in those few days than I ever would have in a life of phone calls and emails. The game never really cooperated…but we had a blast. We would strike out in the mornings, hunt all day, and reconvene at the cabin for seafood (that we brought up from the gulf coast) or steaks. It was truly a grand time…and we didn’t know it at the time, but my girlfriend was pregnant with our daughter too.
The vacation came to an end and we headed back south. A week later, my GF got the call that no daughter ever wants to receive. My FIL and his wife had been in a bad accident. While she was driving, they presumably hit a patch of black ice and rolled the vehicle. Even though he was wearing his seatbelt, he was ejected through the passenger window and suffered significant spinal injuries just below his neck. Though he was able to retain limited use of his arms, he’d never walk again.
The week I was able to spend hunting in the mountains of Idaho are some of the most cherished hours I have spent with my FIL to this day.
********************
What I would give to go back and spend one last weekend camping and hunting with my uncle while we chased whitetails.
What I would give to go back and spend one more trip hiking around with my father and brother while we chased that dog in pursuit of quail.
What I would give to go back and spend one more week at the cabin with my father-in-law while we hunted elk and deer in the mountains.
My daughter just turned 10 this summer, and as eager as I am to get in the woods again for myself, I am just as eager to finally introduce my daughter to this passion as well. I truly hope we build memories together that she can look back on with similar joy.
Hope you all have memorable seasons with your closest friends and family.
