Boys and Guns

For the third time in as many years I got to take Jaime hunting up at the honey hole. I spent two mornings and an afternoon watching him sit and hunt, spotting deer that my old eyes couldn't even see without the ten by fifties. I was amazed at the deer he did see; excited by the real ones and the phantom ones that pop up as the sun climbs higher in the sky changing the lighting as it goes, making a brown stump magically look like a doe, head down, sneaking up to the stand.

After he shot, he glassed for his dad. And dad took his picture.

The last evening we hunted together in the same stand (probably for the last time--no fifteen year old's gonna have sitting in a stand with his old man) and when I looked behind us, tip-toeing down the trail, was an orphan fawn. A doe, to be sure, but all alone, and as the sun was just about done for the day, I told him to shoot. Two predawn mornings up at 4:15 and one long day is an eternity to young boys (and some old men too) and since the range to the doe was minimal, we were both what I'd call confident, with extreme prejudice. He'd earned it.

A quick shot through the vitals and the doe was done. We stared at the spot on the ground the exiting bullet had made, and felt like we could sit a while longer and let me wait for something to show...of course, another deer stepped out and thanks to my hesitation, was chased away by a non-shootable buck. That's okay, next year when he chases dinner away, he'll have even more antler and won't get that golden ticket in his proverbial candy bar.

Well, we got down to collect the doe, and that's about the time we realized the ground shrinkage that occurs after the adrenaline's gone from the first blush of seeing a deer heading your way. It's pretty common, and it's nothing new, but I don't think there's any shame in it--not for a boy (or girl) afield! In my mind, a boy can hardly do any wrong when hunting.

Now I don't mean that young-uns should be let loose and allowed to clobber any and everything they see like bloodthirsty savages, but they ought to be able to collect a deer, any deer, for their first of the season after hours of talking about it, hours in the car to the range, and long boring, shoulder-pounding hours shooting their rifles. You might disagree, but after so many hours of watching so many deer saunter away after having been in range, you might think different.

Take your kid hunting, saddle him (or her) with all these rules and regulations about what he can shoot, what he can't...it'll wear thin, and you'll be getting up in the morning by yourself, riding by yourself, and hunting by yourself. It's why I don't play Hearts: too many rules. Curb the kids' enthusiasm enough, and there won't be anyone hunting anymore--it's us old mens' job to get a younger crowd into the woods, and what better way than to let them shoot deer.

I'd already stopped him from shooting this doe and that buck before, but now was his turn and he took it. And I'm happy for the boy. Sure, I took a ribbing from the guys, but I was and am happy to take it, because there's a tender fawn's meat in the fridge aging to perfection before Mom slowly roasts it in the crock pot or magically grills it "indirectly" so it's just as juicy but with the hint of smokiness that reminds us of woods and pioneer pasts.

Yes, the next time we go out, maybe the next baby'll get the golden pass too...or maybe not. I've said it a hundred times, the little ones taste better, are more tender, and are easier to handle after the fact. I'm sure my son'll start "editing" his own choices when he hunts alone in the stand in his coming years, I can only hope he'll continue hunting. When he's my age, maybe he'll be taking another Mothershead-ito out into the woods, up a tree, and feel the thrill when his son takes his first deer of the year to get on the boards. I just hope he buys his own rifle and gives me mine back!