I have loved the outdoors all of my life, but as I continue to age, thankfully, it seems to get better and better. When I was younger, I worried about how many fish I caught or how many birds were put in the bag. My perspective has changed these days,
I’m still quite capable of catching fish and shooting birds, but I don’t have too anymore. I just love being there and taking it all in. I’m sure the younger me would think the older me has gone crazy, but I haven’t, at least not yet. I’m concerned about the whole ball of wax, not just a part of it.
I think about my days in the woods as a young boy and the excitement that always came. I still get excited about it all, but I am much more relaxed because I have no expectations of success. Just being there and taking it all is more than enough for me.
I love to watch a young dog start figuring out what it was put on this earth to do. I get great joy from watching a dog develop and doing what it was truly bred to do. I might love old dogs the most though, because they’ve got it figured out and just do it without any encouragement.
I have also gained a great appreciation for watching children start learning about the things that have always brought me great joy. I love to see the excitement in their eyes as they learn to catch a fish or shoot a bird flying. I think both of those are just a wonderful rite of passage.
A number of years ago, a young boy showed up in Midville to live. He was my nephew and had come here to live with my parents. He had been fishing a time or two but had never hunted at all. I immediately set out to teach him all I could about the things that truly define who I am.
He was a quick study! I let him use one of my bait casting reels to practice with. I set up a five-gallon bucket in the yard and told him when he could ring the bucket every time, I would give him that reel. It wasn’t long before I had one less reel. He loved catching those fish and soon became quite proficient at it.
I taught him to shoot a shotgun, and I also instructed him on gun safety. He learned to shoot well and before long he thought he was better than me! I remember thinking I was the best, it seems as if all young boys think the same thing. That’s alright too, it’s part of the deal.
I started taking him quail hunting on a regular basis, but I didn’t let him shoot. I made him watch for a long time. He certainly did not like that idea, but he knew I would not defer from what I told him. There is a lot going on with people and dogs and it takes time to fully understand that.
When my nephew started hunting with us, I had a big male pointer aptly named “Big Nick”. Nick was an incredible birddog and could cover a lot of ground finding birds all along the way. He was as steady as could be. I always said when he pointed you could run to town to eat lunch, come back and he’d be right there pointed.
Nick was old and my nephew was young, but it was the perfect combination. I had the distinct pleasure of watching youth paired with years of experience. It was truly a sight to see! I remember vividly the first quail my nephew ever shot.
We were hunting with my long-time hunting partner, Ralph Sandeford, on Ralph’s farm. My nephew was wearing one of my hunting coats that was way too big for him, but he had to have it on. I understood that. I had also let my nephew shoot my beloved 20-gauge shotgun that afternoon. The stage was set! The only thing we needed was birds for it to be complete.
By this time, Nick had started to regress, but I knew if he found birds, he would hold them indefinitely. Big Nick came back to life that afternoon. It was as if he knew how important that afternoon was for that young boy. Nick pointed and we coached my nephew on what to do when the birds got up.
My young nephew killed his first-ever quail over a bird pointed by an old, raw-boned birddog that knew how important that afternoon was. That was years ago and sadly that old dog and my young nephew have both departed this earth.
The joy in that young boy’s face and that look of satisfaction in the eyes of a dog who knew his days were numbered has been permanently etched in the recesses of memory. That, my friends, is the good stuff.
I have a very dear friend from Florida who has been coming here for over thirty years to hunt deer. His name is Dave Malito, and we became instant friends all those years ago. Malito is an incredible hunter and has a knack for killing big bucks.
He is a pretty serious hunter, but you know, his perspective on things has begun to change as well. He’s married to a wonderful woman that I hold in high esteem, and she can kill those deer as much as he can. They have two beautiful children, Corbin and Charleigh, so they take turns hunting so that one of them can look after their kids.
Last year, Corbin killed a doe, which was his very first deer. Needless to say, that boy is enamored with deer hunting. That boy is hands down the sweetest child I have ever known. He’s respectful, polite, caring and has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen in a ten year-old boy.
Well, he hunted a lot and just hadn’t scored on a buck yet, but he has been patient and persistent. As with all things in this life, patience ultimately pays off. They were here hunting last week as it was the opening week of the season.
Late one morning last week, my phone lit up, showing I had a message. It was from Malito. It was a picture of young Corbin holding up the horns on his very first buck. I had to pull off the road because the tears were streaming down my face. I was happy and thankful for that young boy.
I talked to Malito later that day and he gave me the full story about the hunt. He told me they had seen another buck as well as the one Corbin shot. Malito said he didn’t think his body could take anymore. Malito told me it was the greatest feeling he’d ever experienced, watching his son shoot his first buck.
Malito also told me something else that made me tear up again. He said that morning, before they got out of the truck, Corbin asked if he could pray. Malito said he prayed for everybody and everything but himself. Malito said at the end of Corbin’s prayer he asked God if he could help them see a big buck that morning. That, my friends, is the good stuff.
