Post by hunter on May 11, 2020 15:41:13 GMT
Have you ever gone hunting?
My dad was an avid hunter. He and his friends would always be off somewhere hunting in the season. Duck, prairie chicken, deer. When I was ten, Dad says, “How would you like to go deer hunting with us?”
“YES!” I yell. I did a lot of shooting with my BB guns and .22 when Dad and I went target shooting. Dad taught me how to shoot and all about gun safety. My mom was not happy about it at all and did not want me to go. It’s dangerous, he’s only ten, accidents happen. “No!” She said.
She was very protective, what you’d call an umbrella mom today. Dad said she didn’t sleep the whole weekend I was away on my first Cub Scout trip. God knows what she went through when I shipped out to Vietnam as a tanker.
All my life I wanted to be a soldier like dad who was a combat infantryman in WWII.
So there we were in the marsh, huddled down among the tall grass. It was cold as hell, still morning mist. Dad and his friend Mike at the ready, me scanning the skies. I loved it. This is what a soldier would be doing. Hunkered down and waiting for the enemy. Little did I know that eight years later, I’d be in Vietnam. It would be the same. 90% waiting, 10% action. In the 11th Armored Cavalry, we saw a lot of action though.
Dad sees a V shaped flock heading our way. He’s on the duck call. Later that day I would practise using it and got quite good. The ducks wing down lower and fly right over us. BLAM BLAM BLAM. BLAM! Three fall from the flock and land not too far. Away we go. Two are dead. One is flopping around. Dad tells me to take care of it. I take my .22. He usually did the neck snap but I think he wanted me to have my first kill.
I load stand back 15 feet and fire. Miss. Move up and fire. Miss. This thing is flapping and jumping all over the place. I think I was over excited and had a live bird flapping away in front of me.
“RJ, remember what I taught you, your rushing. Calm down. Aim down both sights, line it up. Take a deep breath, exhale, hold your breath and slowly squeeze the trigger. I do that. BANG! Right in the head. Dad pats my back and Mike gives me a wink. I am thrilled. Dad gives the duck to me to hold. He takes a little blood that was on the ducks head with his finger and makes a mark in my forehead. “Thank the duck for the meat he’ll provide us.” I do. “Your blooded now son , your a hunter. Maybe keep this part about the blood from mom though.” Mike howls with laughter.
Dad bought me my first shotgun right after this hunt.
I was an avid hunter after that and as I grew up went hunting with my father for deer. I always thanked my kill for providing us with food.
“YES!” I yell. I did a lot of shooting with my BB guns and .22 when Dad and I went target shooting. Dad taught me how to shoot and all about gun safety. My mom was not happy about it at all and did not want me to go. It’s dangerous, he’s only ten, accidents happen. “No!” She said.
She was very protective, what you’d call an umbrella mom today. Dad said she didn’t sleep the whole weekend I was away on my first Cub Scout trip. God knows what she went through when I shipped out to Vietnam as a tanker.
All my life I wanted to be a soldier like dad who was a combat infantryman in WWII.
So there we were in the marsh, huddled down among the tall grass. It was cold as hell, still morning mist. Dad and his friend Mike at the ready, me scanning the skies. I loved it. This is what a soldier would be doing. Hunkered down and waiting for the enemy. Little did I know that eight years later, I’d be in Vietnam. It would be the same. 90% waiting, 10% action. In the 11th Armored Cavalry, we saw a lot of action though.
Dad sees a V shaped flock heading our way. He’s on the duck call. Later that day I would practise using it and got quite good. The ducks wing down lower and fly right over us. BLAM BLAM BLAM. BLAM! Three fall from the flock and land not too far. Away we go. Two are dead. One is flopping around. Dad tells me to take care of it. I take my .22. He usually did the neck snap but I think he wanted me to have my first kill.
I load stand back 15 feet and fire. Miss. Move up and fire. Miss. This thing is flapping and jumping all over the place. I think I was over excited and had a live bird flapping away in front of me.
“RJ, remember what I taught you, your rushing. Calm down. Aim down both sights, line it up. Take a deep breath, exhale, hold your breath and slowly squeeze the trigger. I do that. BANG! Right in the head. Dad pats my back and Mike gives me a wink. I am thrilled. Dad gives the duck to me to hold. He takes a little blood that was on the ducks head with his finger and makes a mark in my forehead. “Thank the duck for the meat he’ll provide us.” I do. “Your blooded now son , your a hunter. Maybe keep this part about the blood from mom though.” Mike howls with laughter.
Dad bought me my first shotgun right after this hunt.
I was an avid hunter after that and as I grew up went hunting with my father for deer. I always thanked my kill for providing us with food.