My son received an invitation to a peer’s birthday party at a hunting lodge near Abilene. As a bonus, I would have the opportunity to go bowhunting. Dang! That’s one heck of a party favor! We hysterically accepted the invite and were at the ranch as easily as if we had been instantaneously transported there. [...]
My son received an invitation to a peer’s birthday party at a hunting lodge near Abilene. As a bonus, I would have the opportunity to go bowhunting. Dang! That’s one heck of a party favor! We hysterically accepted the invite and were at the ranch as easily as if we had been instantaneously transported there. We arrived in the early evening, had a great time with friends and went to bed, exhausted. Early the next morning, I was out at the tailgate gearing up while my buddy was waiting inside the Mule. I looked up from my work to see my pajama laden, barefoot seven year old standing a few feet away from me.
“Hey boy, what’re you doing out here?”
My Mule taxi driver friend said, “Did you hear me start up the Mule?”
“Yes. It sounded like thunder.”
“Daddy’s going bowhunting. You need to go back to sleep.”
After a kiss and a good luck hug, he was picked up and hauled back inside the barn-turned-lodge.
It's nice to have a chauffeur to an unfamiliar location.
It only makes sense after that 40 degree early morning barefooted investigatory send off that the conversation between father and son should go like this:
“Daddy, I want to sleep here next to you on the couch tonight.”
“Don’t you want to sleep in the bunk bed room with your friends?”
“No, I wanna sleep out here. I want to go bowhunting with you in the morning.”
Just then, it hit me hard, and it was wonderful. He grew up a little bit. I just witnessed an unsolicited, free willed, voluntary request to go sit by his father and experience a bowhunt. Not wanting him to go into it with a glossed over perception of what it might be like, he quickly received a refresher course on what to expect.
“Really? ‘Cause it’ll be cold.”
“I know.”
“And you’ll have to sit ABSOLUTELY STILL.”
“I know.”
“And you have to be ABSOLUTELY (whispered) quiet.”
“Daddy, I know. I really want to go…”
…bring the boy…
“Okay.”
The hug was worth every spit up, poopy diaper, middle of the night throw ups, school fundraiser participation and church slacks shopping experiences we ever had together.
Fast forward to the next morning. Luckily I packed lots of extra gear. Like, two bags worth of extra gear. My truck is so awesome that it is always ready to swallow another bag or two in it’s cargo tummy. So many times that weekend I felt like my father must have felt when I was a kid. Time spent packing things for the kid that he takes for granted. They’re just there for him. Extra socks, underwear, snacks. He was responsible for any toys, however.
Facemask? Check. Trigger release? Check. Let's go hunting!
The ride out to the stand was a good one. The brisk breeze temporarily blows away the early morning groggies and allows you to have a clear head for the hunting site set up. Upon arrival, we quickly chose a nice location from which to hunt. The usual factors were considered: Rising sun angle, wind direction, distance to the feeder, native vegetation to use as cover, etc.
First, the sleeping bag was strategically laid down to provide a nest for the little hunter. Next, I informed him that I’d be returning shortly with some branches that would help camouflage us. Lastly, I settled in. After everything was in it’s place and a practice full draw was taken, the wait for shooting light could now begin.
I looked down at the boy and said, “You can go to sleep and I’ll wake you up when it gets light enough to see.”
That didn’t take any convincing. He was asleep within a minute.
After some time alone with God, the stars and the distant sounds of coyotes and pumpjacks, dawn arrived. It was time to meet my biggest decision of the day; wake him up, or let him sleep? Thus began my internal struggle.
“Wake him up, Dude! Nevermind that he looks so peaceful right now.”
“Yeah, but his soft half-snore-sleep-breaths might sound like a snort-wheeze to a deer.”
“Milyo, you’re so selfish. Using your son’s breathing as a deer attractant.”
“Hey, I packed him a banana. Shouldn’t that be enough to fight hunger, boredom, pain from small boot strangulation, and any ailments he could incur from spending a few cold hours outside with his favorite hunting icon?”
“Bring this young buck out in the cold and make him suffer? He’s wearing boots that he’s obviously outgrown, judging by the struggle you both had against the clodhoppers earlier, trying to stretch the fabric enough to slide onto his foot just one more time.”
“Aw C’mon! A REAL MANLY father wouldn’t have brought a sleeping bag for the boy. You’re just softening him up! Drop and give me twenty!”
“Oh great, he slept through the feeder! Now what? He must really need that sleep.”
“Stop it! That’s just the stay at home dad in you.”
“What if he’s too loud, impatient and squiggly? He’ll spook the deer!”
Then I remembered, “Dork! It’s NOT all about you! You’re gonna go some other day! Don’t be so selfish!” So, I made good on my promise and nudged him ever so gently with my extremely comfortable, perfectly fitted to my feet, insulated, cushy hunting boots until he moved on from his peaceful sleepy breathing noises and looked up at me. “The feeder went off. It’s time to hunt now.”
And so we did. Father and son. Side by side. We watched a dule of dove fly in by the fives and tens, and then explode into liftoff all at once. That was the apex of the animal activity that morning. But what also happened was the delicate laying of the groundwork for future hunts. We can only pray that our kids want to grow up like we want them to. The rest is up to what God has planned for their lives. Our job is to teach them what is good, right and attempt to give them positive experiences along the way. I think a little of that happened that weekend. On the way home, he said, “I’d go hunting with you any time.”
Enjoying the ride from the front seat
Please, Lord, can this happen again soon? Can it? Huh? Can it? Can it?
These words come to mind: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
Oh yeah. I remember hearing that before. I’ll calm down and wait quietly to see what happens next. What ever it is, I’m glad I’ll always have a hunting buddy in the stand with me.
Get out there. Breathe it in.
