The sun is only half way over the horizon and I am on sensory overload. The sounds in the woods have me looking around trying to see everything at once. Even though the sounds are foreign to me I’m not scared because he is here with me and I know that I’m safe.
He walks soft barely making a sound but I stumble and crack twigs making way to much noise but he says nothing about it. We settle under a tree to wait for things to quieten down and for the squirrels to start running the tree tops. We sit and I look at the shotgun in his lap. I am drawn to it like a moth to a flame. I reach out to touch the scratched and worn stock.
I am lost in a boys thoughts when he leans over and whispers “There he is, see him?” I look but my untrained eyes see nothing but limbs. “Look where I am pointing.”
Suddenly I see the squirrel with his question mark of a tail sure that he is hidden from us. I watch him waiting for the shot but am shocked to see him offering the gun to me. “You shoot him I’ll help you steady the gun.”
I am trembling as my senses kick it up a notch. As he leans over my shoulder to help with the gun I smell the milk barn, Prince Albert and Old Spice. I aim and say a boy’s prayer to not miss. For a six-year-old letting his Pa down would be a fate worse than death.
I pull the trigger and the squirrel begins the last trip to earth he will ever make. Pa gives my back a pat and says, “You did it!” I am thrilled, sad, and anxious for the next squirrel the emotions mixing and welling up inside me.
I pick up the squirrel and he asks if I want to go to the house to show my grandmother and I say yes. On this morning a hunter is born.