I have found in my hunting travels that sometimes lessons learned come without ever dropping a string. This spring I learned another one. It is about the love of the hunt and that the relationships made can be more meaningful than the hunts themselves.
I have had the honor, for the last three years, of hunting with Tim Bradley of Colorado for spring bear season. Quite the hunter himself, I think Tim’s greatest joy comes from sharing his love of traditional bowhunting with his son. Tim was with his son Joe last fall when, at the age of 32, Joe harvested his Mountain Goat to successfully complete Colorado’s “Big 8”.
Joe could not join his father this spring bear hunting with our group in Manitoba. It has been a while since the two did not go into the bear woods together. It was obvious to the group that Tim was missing his son. He showed us all an arrow that had been made by Joe. Tim said he was going to use it to take a bear this hunt. On the last day in camp, after harvesting his bear, Tim shared with me a letter his son had given to him before he left on the trip.
Tim said the letter showed him that beyond just being able to take trophies, he knew by those words that his son “understood” what traditional bowhunting was all about. In Tim’s own unique way he asked me if I would share this letter with all of you. He said he knew many you would also “understand” and for anyone that did not yet “get it”, maybe this would help.
I submit the letter (with Tim's and Joe’s permission) for your reflection:
Tim and Joe (Spring Bear Camp – 2012)
Hey-[Dad]
We’ve bear hunted every spring since 2005, and not going this time is killing me. I miss the planning and packing already. I’ll miss the anticipation of the trips events. I can almost feel the excitement of watching that first bear approach, and the hair still stands on my neck every time. It hurts…
Obviously, I had something happen in my life that took this trip from me, but you still get to go and enjoy the passion we both share. With that in mind, if I knew last year was my last trip… I would have watched the squirrels longer, breakfasts would have tasted better and little things we take for granted would have been noticed every time.
I’m going to miss the late nights and long stories- the smell of the rain- the sound of a Thermacell firing up- checking the wind over a fresh cup of coffee- the camaraderie around the camp- shooting in the mornings before a big breakfast- checking stand sites for hair color and other sign- Our “quiet” talks about each of our stands- going over equipment again- discussing options and thoughts with you- the fishing fun- the joking and pranks- all of the “chores” that need to be done- the climb into the stand to settle for the evening- the rush of seeing the first bear of the night, while sizing him up- the strategy involved in the hunt- the Canadian stores and people- the border confusion and the anxiety that comes with it- the anticipation of waiting for the shot- the fast seconds after a kill, listening for a death moan in the distance…. and the loons… definitely the lonely cry of the loons. God, I am going to miss this hunt. It is a part of me. There is no other way to explain it.
I want you take one of my arrows. You don’t have to shoot it, but please carry it in your quiver. Take me with you. This was an arrow I made to complete my Big 8, during my goat hunt. I’m so glad you were there for that day. If you are feeling nostalgic, you could shoot one of your bears over the next two weeks with it. Our arrows shoot exactly the same; this one is over 600 grains, spined at 55-60. Regardless, give it back to me, bloody or clean… just take me with you.
Pick a spot. Shoot straight. Good luck.
I can almost feel the excitement of watching that bear approach, and the hair still stands on my neck every time. It hurts, dad…
Tim – Black Bear harvested with his son’s arrow – 05/2013
Topic: A Bowhunter's Letter to his Father (Read 502 times)
