aarondhgraham
New member
Last night I was sitting in my favorite watering hole,,,
Enjoying a double shot of Herradura Anejo.
I got to shooting the breeze with a few other guys,,,
The topic shifted to hunting and stories were told.
One gentleman told of his first real hunt,,,
Just after his 10th birthday his grandfather took him out.
As he told the story of a week in the woods with his grandfather,,,
You could see in this older man's eyes a hint of a tear,,,
It's a shame that more kids can't have this today.
But I got to tell the story about my first hunt,,,
It happened right after my 4th birthday.
It entailed a Daisy, a flashlight, a picnic table,,,
A blanket, and a jackalope.
We had just moved to U-P Michigan,,,
Dad took a job working for my grandfather,,,
Drilling for core samples on Drummond Island.
This was in December of 1955,,,
There was only one "place" on the island,,,
It was a restaurant, bar, grocery store, and post office.
The walls of the restaurant/bar were lined with guns and taxidermy,,,
I remember a white painted shotgun "for weddings only",,,
That's also where I saw my first jackalope.
My grandfather told me the island was thick with the critters,,,
And that's why all of the men wore engineer boots,,,
Because the things would attack and gore you.
We lived in one of several rental cabins,,,
They all shared a common shower room and toilet room,,,
We kids had to be sure we did our business before dark because of the jackalopes.
Anyways, I wanted to hunt one real badly,,,
I had watched all of the Davy Crockett shows,,,
So I was sure I knew everything I needed to know.
So one evening my Dad, two uncles, and my grandfather said okay,,,
They set me up on one of the common area picnic tables,,,
I had a flashlight, a blanket, and my Daisy BB rifle.
I remember sitting out there combing the bushes with the light,,,
Wrapped up securely against the December cold,,,
Daisy at the ready to drop me a jackalope.
I remember Mom coming out with a mug of hot chocolate,,,
I had no idea at the time how much amusement I was providing the adult men.
Apparently they were all sitting in the kitchen drinking beer,,,
Watching me scour the landscape for a jackalope,,,
Laughing their besotted hind-ends off.
The way Mom told the story in later years,,,
I sat out there shivering for two hours.
I never quit though,,,
Mom made them end the game.
The next day dad told me there was really no such thing as a jackalope,,,
I was absolutely crushed that my idols had tricked me.
But my grandfather took me for a real rabbit hunt the next week,,,
He let me shoot his .22 rifle and his "owl's head" revolver,,,
So all was forgiven but never really forgotten.
When I finally did get my first bunny,,,
I was so frustrated that they wouldn't have it stuffed for me.
I idolized the men in my family,,,
But I never fully trusted them after that.
In retrospect though,,,
It's a great story.
Aarond
.
Enjoying a double shot of Herradura Anejo.
I got to shooting the breeze with a few other guys,,,
The topic shifted to hunting and stories were told.
One gentleman told of his first real hunt,,,
Just after his 10th birthday his grandfather took him out.
As he told the story of a week in the woods with his grandfather,,,
You could see in this older man's eyes a hint of a tear,,,
It's a shame that more kids can't have this today.
But I got to tell the story about my first hunt,,,
It happened right after my 4th birthday.
It entailed a Daisy, a flashlight, a picnic table,,,
A blanket, and a jackalope.
We had just moved to U-P Michigan,,,
Dad took a job working for my grandfather,,,
Drilling for core samples on Drummond Island.
This was in December of 1955,,,
There was only one "place" on the island,,,
It was a restaurant, bar, grocery store, and post office.
The walls of the restaurant/bar were lined with guns and taxidermy,,,
I remember a white painted shotgun "for weddings only",,,
That's also where I saw my first jackalope.
My grandfather told me the island was thick with the critters,,,
And that's why all of the men wore engineer boots,,,
Because the things would attack and gore you.
We lived in one of several rental cabins,,,
They all shared a common shower room and toilet room,,,
We kids had to be sure we did our business before dark because of the jackalopes.
Anyways, I wanted to hunt one real badly,,,
I had watched all of the Davy Crockett shows,,,
So I was sure I knew everything I needed to know.
So one evening my Dad, two uncles, and my grandfather said okay,,,
They set me up on one of the common area picnic tables,,,
I had a flashlight, a blanket, and my Daisy BB rifle.
I remember sitting out there combing the bushes with the light,,,
Wrapped up securely against the December cold,,,
Daisy at the ready to drop me a jackalope.
I remember Mom coming out with a mug of hot chocolate,,,
I had no idea at the time how much amusement I was providing the adult men.
Apparently they were all sitting in the kitchen drinking beer,,,
Watching me scour the landscape for a jackalope,,,
Laughing their besotted hind-ends off.
The way Mom told the story in later years,,,
I sat out there shivering for two hours.
I never quit though,,,
Mom made them end the game.
The next day dad told me there was really no such thing as a jackalope,,,
I was absolutely crushed that my idols had tricked me.
But my grandfather took me for a real rabbit hunt the next week,,,
He let me shoot his .22 rifle and his "owl's head" revolver,,,
So all was forgiven but never really forgotten.
When I finally did get my first bunny,,,
I was so frustrated that they wouldn't have it stuffed for me.
I idolized the men in my family,,,
But I never fully trusted them after that.
In retrospect though,,,
It's a great story.
Aarond
.