Way back, maybe even the same year because I'm pretty sure I was 6 at the time, I would sit on a swing seat hanging from a elm tree limb and watch my father practice with his long bow. I pestered him relentlessly to take me hunting with him. I don't remember now what it was that I did, but I vividly recall him saying that, as a reward, he would take me with him the next morning.
By daylight we were sitting on a wooded hill side at the top of a gully. There were two trees that formed a vee and Dad built a little rock seat for me and then he sat in front of me. (He explained years later that he sat in front to conceal as much of me fidgiting as possible). It was the first time in my life that I witnessed the waking of the woods to a new day. I remember the smell of the woods and the wonderful chorus of songbirds in the early morning. After a while Dad turned to me with his finger against his lips then pointed towards the log on our left where he had set out a couple of apples for us to munch on for breakfast. I didn't see anything but then I heard the leaves rustling on the other side of the log. Slowly a little black button of a nose appeared inching closer towards the farthest apple. Then the tips of a couple of ears and finally the masked eyes of a young raccoon. That coon was just about to take the apple when it turned and saw us and froze. Then, ever so slowly backed away all the while looking from us to the apple, us to the apple, us to the apple. It finally disappeared from view but was still just on the other side of the log. Dad slowly reached for one of the apples and pulled his knife, cut out a small slice and tossed it out over the log far enough for us to see it. It took about 30 seconds for that coon to realize that piece was meant for him. He darted over, snatched the piece of apple and ran off about 10 yds to eat it. Then Dad sliced off 3 or 4 more pieces and lined them up along top of the log. Over the course of probably 15 minutes, that coon would come over, slowly take one piece from the log and move off to eat it. The last piece was probably less than a foot from where we were sitting.
Although we didn't see a deer that morning I was hooked. And I have been blessed to share treasured experiences like that for over 50 years with my mentor, my best friend, my favorite hunting partner, my father.
Topic: Goin back (Read 400 times)
