I remember when I was young. I remember riding ton tons across the ice world of Hoth and fighting with blasters side by side with Han Solo. I remember being Luke Duke and arguing with my cousin Andy (Bo Duke) over who could drive the General better. I never remember having hunting adventures. I guess I did. Of course Andy and I were constantly stalking the ditch banks and pecan orchard that was our Nanny’s yard. We played football one on one. These were memories put on reserve in the back of my mind. Almost forgotten, never remembered, until…..
My boy Bo loves football. Since the time he could walk he would drag a football. He will throw the ball, kick the ball, run the ball. He even gets tackled with the ball. It’s almost hilarious. He will be running wide open, then all of a sudden from out of nowhere they get him. WHAM! He hits the floor. I never saw them coming. I never saw them hit him. But none the less they got him. It really doesn’t matter how hard he hit the floor, he’s back up and going again before you can check to see if he’s hurt. I don’t know why he loves the game so much. I guess the fact that I am a football coach and he had a football before he was out of the hospital as a newborn could have had something to do with it.
Football is not the only thing I have introduced Bo to. He has duck hunted with me since he was two and a half years old. Now that he is six his interests are broadening. He likes to watch hunting shows. I have seen him take the little wooden gun that his Pa-Pa made for him and hunt the world. I have seen him stalking red stag and on safari after zebra as well. From time to time I will hear the squalls wood ducks and the feeding calls of mallards coming from his room. Then I notice the wooden gun come slowly from around the door and the small decoys placed on the top of the recliner.
As an adult there are hunts I would love to be able to go on. I would love to shoot mallards in the Mississippi flyway. I would love to hunt elk in the Rockies, or maybe Moose in Alaska. I would love to hunt a good pack of beagles on Snowshoe hare in the northeast. I may even like to go to New Zealand stalk red stag or go on safari in the dark continent. My dream hunt would be a bird hunt in Argentina, dove, wild pigeon and duck would all be a challenge there.
As an adult its easy to get caught up in life, and regret not being able to do all the things you want. Twice my football teams have been one game short of the elusive state title game I would love to win. I may never be able to afford one of those dream hunts I would love to take. But I have seen my son win the big game, I have seen him on the big hunts I would love to take.
I enjoy all the fun I see him having, and remember, at one time I was right where he is, anywhere I wanted to be. Finding the meaning of life, The Briary River Way.
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