~ My Anti-Drug ~

A new blog I’ve been browsing has got me worked up and thinking about outdoors, Living Back In The Woods , I spent most of my childhood outdoors. That’s what kids did in my day, there was no X-Boxes or Play Station II’s. I could have fun with a stick and a rock. Most of the time my Mom would tell me to go outside, and then she would have to whistle for me to come back in. I remember my Mom would only give me three trips a day through the front door, because I was either letting the heat out or I was trying to cool off the whole wide world. I was quite a bit older before I figured out an odd amount of trips (three) eventually left me being outside. My Mom used to whistle to get our attention, and no not like a dog. But her whistle carried a lot further than a yell. Every kid around knew that whistle and if we did not hear it they would tell us our Mom was looking for us. My family always had guns, and my Dad and Grandpa and eventually my big Brother made sure I knew how to respect them and how to use them. I never had the urge as a kid to play with one, or get one out and show off to a friend. I believe it was because they were natural to me, a big deal but at the same time no big deal. Guns led to being outdoors which is a good thing like I said. So of course living in Oklahoma that meant hunting. Rabbit, squirrel, duck, quail, dove, and my favorite, whitetail deer. My brother was into bow hunting at that time so that’s how I started hunting deer, I really liked it, we would hunt through primitive arms and riffle season with bows. For years I didn’t even hunt with a riffle. Then I started hunting with black powder, primitive arms. Shot my first deer with a .50 caliber Hawkin Riffle. It was not a kit gun, but the real deal, over 120 years old. I like old things, most of the time they are just made better. I liked to think that same gun put meat on someone’s table because it was a man taking care of his family, not just for sport. I use to let a lot of deer just walk by when I was hunting, there is just something about it, being out there watching, being quiet, being alone, watching nature, it‘s a lot more than killing. You can just melt into it and become something a little bigger that 9 to 5 Joe, keeping up with the Joneses. If killing a deer was all there was to hunting, I don’t believe a lot of us Southern boys would be doing it. And if that meant having a good hunt, well then I’ve had a lot of bad ones. Because as it stands; Deer - 1532, Chuck - 5. The best hunts I’ve ever had, is where I didn’t get anything, oh I wasn’t happy at the time but looking back I wouldn’t have it any other way. Only bad hunt I ever had was about 2 months after my wife and I split up, I was deep in the wood by myself, wasn’t having Thanksgiving that year, setting at the base of a tree about 5:30 am, waiting for the sun to come up and I thought to myself, I’m alone, all alone, no one knows or cares where I’m at and I have a large bore weapon. Half hour later I was setting down and having “Moon over My Hammy” at Denny’s in town. Other than that hunting has always been good. I started taking my daughter when she was eight, let her carry a knife on her belt (she thought that was big stuff). She was familiar with guns I’ve taught her just like I was, maybe a little better. I trust her around guns as much as I do anyone. I trust her at home with them too, a bid deal but no big deal, it works. Her first hunt she sat still with me and stayed quiet for two hours before she started getting fidgety, that’s about all I could do. She has great eyes and sees things I don’t. She is with out a doubt the best hunting partner I have ever had. We would go deer watching, that’s without guns. And we would set for hours watching deer. She’s 15 now and still gets exited to see them, and gets sad when we sees one hit by a car. She talks about some day taking her kids hunting and using my guns, you see when I’m gone they are all hers. She knows which ones were my Dads or other family members and which ones are just my guns. She says then that means she keeps them all. She has a few of her own, her first was an Ithaca .22 single shot, I thought if she was going to have an accident I’d rather only be shot once. Then she has a Rossi 20 gauge single shot break over, a .22 caliber Ruger 10/22. Her next gun will be a .223 of some nature, I have a 45.70 but she says it kicks a little too much. I have not gone hunting in two years now because of my legs, but I WILL go again some day, you can bet on it. The last 4 or 5 years that I did hunt, a friend and I set up a pretty good permanent deer camp on some land he owns. We call it “God’s Country”. We improved on it every year and it’s just about perfect for us. We would take our vacations at the same time (riffle season, the week of Thanksgiving) we’d camp out about 9 days come home on Thursday and eat, shower, and head back. There is nothing like setting around a camp fire at night before you bed down. After Em would go to bed we would maybe pass the bottle around a few times before turning in. I slept better there than I do at home. My daughter helped a lot and is welcome there anytime (even without me) she is a part of our tradition there and fits in perfect. She’s smart, a huge help, and she’s good company, my buddy always includes here automatically “when are you and Em gonna come out?” and believe me we don’t let just anybody hunt with us, we’ve had to weed of few tag alongs out. But like I said it’s more about being outdoors in the wilderness than it is actually killing a deer. Most Indians tribes used to not take anything from mother earth unless they had to, and then it was with sadness and respect, and out of honor you would use all of it, whatever it was for a good purpose. And they would give thanks for everything, sound like a pretty good way to me. That’s the way my daughter was taught and my friends and I believe the same way. We talk of what we saw more than what we shot. And having some deer chili sure doesn’t hurt either. When ever it is overcast (that’s my favorite time) cool or even cold old outside, calm and I hear the crows squawking, that’s when I get the urge to head to the woods. When my time here is through and if it’s alright with God, I’d like to be cremated and have my ashes buried out there where we hunt, the place marked by a simple white wooden cross, I would like it to have my name on it of course, the word “Father”, a Cherokee medicine wheel, and the words, “Good Bye, Good Luck, and Good Hunting” They say that when you die that your soul goes to the happiest time in your life, if that is true I might as well have a head start. Good day. Good Hunting.