Wow, Cliff! That brings back a flood of important and wonderful memories. Thank you!
Within 10 days of the time that photo was taken, Jerry was gone, felled by a fatal heart attack. I've lost several good friends in my life, but JP is the one I still think of, and miss, often. He was a very special man, and there are too, too, few like him.
There are a dozen worthwhile stories from this hunt, but there is one in particular your picture brought back to mind...
At this time (March of '99), I had been shooting traditional equipment for 5 years, but had little time to hunt because of farm life and business responsibilities. Here I was in South Carolina for my first hog hunt, but had only killed a handful of squirrels, two rabbits, a skunk(!), and a 1" hickory sapling covering the heart of a small whitetail buck in my bowhunting career.
After several days of wandering the 11,000 swamp with no knowledge of where to look or what to do, I headed down one of the sandy roads toward the middle of the swamp in Jerry's Ranger pickup. He was staying in camp because he was feeling poorly from the flu (within a week we'd realize it had really something infinitely more serious), but insisted I take his truck and go out.
For several hours, I slipped along a creek in my very best farmboy fashion, honed from years in the squirrel woods. I heard a noise in the palmettos, and soon saw two 80# pigs rooting along in my direction. When one turned broadside at fifteen yards, I sent a Woodsman-tipped cedar shaft from the Choctaw recurve Jerry had given me a year earlier. The broadhead cut the spine and the top of the lungs, and seconds later my very first "big game" animal lay dead.
I got the pig dragged about 300 yards through the swamp and lifted up onto the tailgate, and pulled into camp just as the sun dipped near the horizon.
Jerry came sauntering out as I pulled my bow from the truck, and as a buddy of few words will do, said, "Well???" I suspect he expected me to say "No luck," based on previous experience.
I raised my eyebrows, and gestured toward the rear of the truck with my head. He looked at me over the top of his glasses (always a serious sign with him), and walked toward the tailgate wondering if I was trying to pull something...
When Jerry saw the pig, he let out a Rebel yell that would have made General Lee proud, pulled the trophy to the ground to examine it closely, and smiled a smile I will never forget. He repeatedly asked for details, shook my hand several times, and ended up slapping me on the back in congratulations with his big sledgehammer hands until it almost made me dizzy.
Jerry was a usually quiet and reserved guy, but a dear friend, and he was thrilled with my success as a relative rookie. As he slapped my back, he crowed, "And the BEST part is... it was with a PIERCE BOW!!!!!," and gestured like someone celebrating a game winning touchdown. I remember his exuberance with great fondness, and it is one of the last memories I got to share with him.
Cliff, I don't know if you still have yours, but I brought crested, splice-fletched arrows for each person on that hunt, and we all signed each other's as souvenirs. It was the first time I'd tried fancy-pants arrows, and kept the worst one for myself, as you'll see from the cresting. I pulled it out of my bow rack tonight, and have attempted to attach a picture. If it is clear enough, you'll see your name, Jerry's, and my last name in the photo. The other names signed from the hunt around the arrow are Robert Packard, Dean Torges, Brian Cole, Jan Adkins, Gene Langston, and Stanley Anderson.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but your picture was worth a thousand fond memories. I'll quit before I end up typing 1,000 words in response, but I thank you!
Daryl
PS- The picture shows Jerry Pierce, Brian Cole, Buddy the Wonder Dog, Stanley Anderson (by the target- not Bernie Swank, although they share the same hair stylist), and yours truly holding two bows.
Topic: Hawkeye, know any of these fellow? (Read 358 times)
