This Friday I get to do something special, it’s not necessarily out of the ordinary, just special. This Friday I get to join my Grandfather for another weekend of bow hunting for deer on our farm in Montello, WI. My grandfather is 77, able bodied and always willing to hunt with his grandson and to me, that’s special.
My grandpa is my outdoor mentor, the one who got this whole crazy, bow hunting, fishing, deer hunting, living, breathing obsession I have with the outdoors started. Now mind you, I am not counting my wonderful parents out of the equation, they certainly provided me with outlets like Boy Scouts and such, but Grandpa has always been the one who I looked up to, the one I wanted to follow into the woods or onto the water.
I remember the first year I got to go deer hunting with him. I was 12 years old, and it had been tradition that the first year you came to deer camp as a young child you must observe, not hunt, whether you had a hunters safety certificate or not. This was my year to sit with Grandpa and watch how it’s done. I have many memories from that first year, but one in particular sticks out. Without out going into detail, I will just say Grandpa’s first shot on a deer didn’t quite get the job done, and as a young hunter I witnessed the reality of having to dispatch a deer at close range to keep the animal from suffering any longer. I know, I know, what a gruesome memory to have, but I am glad I have it. It prepared me for the worst possible situation between game and man you can have.
I have many great memories of hunting camp with Grandpa that do not involve harvesting deer at all. I have very fond memories of the days we’ve spent preparing for the hunts as well. In fact each summer, I spend weekends with Grandpa on the farm, preparing food plots, cutting trees and putting up stands. Those are all days and times I do not take for granted.
But these weekends I spend in the field with Grandpa, just him and I, in our own trees somewhere on the property, both hoping for the same thing, that the other one harvest a deer that day, are days I do not take lightly. I have talked about this weekend at great lengths, telling co-workers, friends and my wife. I am sure they all know my plans, the wind directions and what I expect the deer patterns to be when we get there by heart already. But it’s not just the hunt I am excited for, it’s another weekend with Grandpa, another chance to create that memory that I will never forget. It’s yet another chance for him to pass down a piece of advice for me to live by, some words of encouragement or tell a story of days past.
This Friday I get to do something special, it’s not out of the ordinary, just special. I get to hunt with Grandpa, once again. To me, that’s special.
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