Posts Tagged Hunting
Saturday morning the time had finally come for the call of the wild to be answered. I awoke Macuen (7 ½) for his first trip into the woods wearing hunter orange, deer season was open. Coffee and hot coco in hand we drove to the hill in search for the buck with my name attached to his antlers.
The morning started out with a nice hike in the autumn mountains with buck signs scattered throughout the trail. After about two hours into the hunt Macuen was getting a little cold dismayed his two pairs of socks were not holding in the heat. Knowing this was not the time to teach the boy a lesson it was time to head back to the truck to reheat the toes. Yet, Dad had to go just a little farther into the clearing to see what was around the corner.
I told Macuen to sit on this stump in the middle of the woods and I would be back in a minute. As I came back here was my son, my first son sitting on a long with eyes desperate to return to the truck. The relief I saw when I came around the corner was striking and it took me back to Genesis when Abraham was taking Isaac to the hill for the sacrifice. I could imagine Isaac like Macuen – Dad when are we going to see the deer…maybe there is one over there…dad we have to find the deer…are we there yet… Then to put Isaac on an altar to be obedient…Abraham “was huge”, the faith to follow God with this reckless abandonment…I am not sure I will ever have that kind of faith. As I took Macuen off the stump and headed for the truck rifle in one hand and his hand in the other…I will never forget that imagine of Macuen on the stump as a remind of God’s love and true faith.
A side note: As the day went on we team up with the old crew from Mt. View, Pastor Scott, Gary and Adam for the perfect afternoon hunt. In a 15 minute window Macuen bird dogged a 4×3 which ran 30 feet in front of Gary. Gary harvested deer number one. 20 minutes later it was being cleaned and hung at the cabin. Macuen was thrilled to see the process from start to finish…it is good to be alive.
I was five years old and sick with the flu when my grandfather (Bomps) came around the corner with a Daisy BB Gun to call my own. I was not thrown into the orchard without training and respect however. On the contraire, I was given detailed instruction on handling, ethics, aiming, responsibility and consequences. There was never a time in the early training when I was allowed to be alone with the gun but needed Bomps by my side.
Guns have been a part of my life since a very young age and that remains the same today. I have been licensed to pack a pistol concealed since I was 21 while investing in pieces for protection, hunting and fun. Yet, if you were to ask people I work with today they know I hunt but little more. If you ask my boys where to find them, their response would be, “in the safe with our BB gun but he it hid.” I may cling to my guns and God but I consider myself a response owner of firearms.
Friday night I was home with the kids and around 9:15 the windows shook as an explosive sound rocked the neighborhood. My first reaction was a pipe bomb had just been lit off. Upon walking outside there was no visible smoke just the distant sounds of police and fire coming to the area. The nervous dog came in the house and I returned to homework feeling a little uneasy as the football crowd from the highschool was strangely silent. Later in the evening I found out there had been a drive by shooting a few blocks over from the house. The sound and window rattling was caused by a shotgun and Russian SKS fired at a house two blocks over as a crow flies. Two teens were hit but not fatally. My kids and I were in front of the same house just a few hours early during an evening run/bike ride.
The nature of a drive by includes – the morons never getting caught – despite the fact everyone knows it was a gang shooting.
During the next two days I again found myself thankful for the second amendment (remembering the days when I sat on my deck with a loaded pistol watching my neighbors who had just threatened to kill us – it is a long story but it includes them believing we turned them in which resulted in the raiding of their house – they were the ring leaders in a large drug smuggling operation from Canada to Mexico – FBI and local authorities thought me might be in real danger)
If a gun fight would have erupted Friday night there is a real possibility they could have come our direction. SKS bullets travel nicely through empty space and even buildings at times.
Why do people want to take away my right to protect my kids who were asleep in their bed with nothing to do with the morons involved in the shooting? Regardless of what some my say – I really don’t think the guns used in this gang shooting where bought through the legal process in the same way I purchased mine. What makes people think this type of irresponsible behavior will change if my gun ownership privileges are taken away by a group of lawmakers? I don’t really care about “original intent” even though it is in my favor I care about the protection of my family and the providing food for their health.
That is the power of the 2nd Amendment – for without it I am left at the mercy of morons, evil doers and the local PD who are already over taxed in coverage. This is a core value and I vote.
When you grow up in the woods of western Washington a person truly gets spoiled. There is truly no greater beauty then a patch of Western Red Cedar or Douglas Fir raising above the trail, the chill of the cool mountain air in the morning, the droplet of dew in the center of the Alpine Lupine, and the pounding hoofs of a spooked buck. The call of the wild is heard everyday; however in the middle of an irrigated desert the call doesn’t seem as loud. But it does call….
The wild, it calls to a man, “come and see what you are made of”, in a taunting tone to test guts and will. We long for the call deep down, in places sometimes forgotten but when it is heard it can not be ignored. In response to the call the preparation will begin; men will gather in tents, cabins, trailers and lodges. Prepare stew, chicken and dumplings, tortea soup, and home made bread to fill the physical hunger which will come as a consequence of the call of the wild. The gear will be lined up in the living room and kitchen table with a special attention paid to the rifle and knife reserved for this rite of passage. The wild it is calling…the cold frost covered morning when you rise just before day break. A bowl of oatmeal to warm your stomach is unmatched for taste as you grab your rifle and head to the door. The special uneasy feeling of anticipation and buck fever rushing through your veins pausing only when an early rising doe crosses the road ahead, even now my heart beat pounds hard. The pausing at every sound in the brush – could it be – no just a squirrel – yes it is – the incomparable feeling of pulling up the rifle with a legal buck in view then only having it catch your scent and run off – a fair hunt indeed.
Success or failure, hunting camp is full of tired laughs and old friends reminding each other why we continue to return. Stories of missed opportunities or precision aim shared among sons, dads, friends and brothers. An unmatched tradition started by the call of wild…
I miss the woods – my hands on my 30-06 hand carved by my grandfather when he was discharged from WWII – the cold frost mornings – the meals around hunting camp – and the skip of my heartbeat when you see the first buck of the season. Success or failure the wild is calling and I must heed its call…to feel alive…to connect with my roots…to share the stories that will live forever…for my boys.