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Sturgeon
Join Date: Aug 2004
Location: on the X
Posts: 4,007
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the dove
It was midnight. As we sat by the dwindling fire I told him,
"You know kid, even though I just met you a few hours ago, I like you. I like you a lot. You have given me an experience today that I may never get to live out in its entirety another time in my life."
I hope I do, but there is no guarantee.
He was a 14 year old kid, with a borrowed shotgun, and no real hunting experience. He didn't strike me as any slouch of an outdoorsman for his age though. He had shot a round of skeet or two in his relatively short life, but other than that, the things he was about to behold were pretty new to this kid. I had only met him a few hours prior, friend of a friend kind of thing.
We met at a Wildlife Management Area with only 45 minutes of shooting light left before the blue skies gave way to the pinks and purples which every wingshooter knows marks another passing chapter in ones life. Out of the truck we jumped and into the field we trudged, in pursuit of a chance at a cockbird. It was late in the day and the area we were in had seen some pressure, so as I expected, we enjoyed a pleasant walk through a cornfield or two, but saw nor heard no sign of feathers. As we headed back to the rigs, a dove flew by on his side.
"Right there Bobby" I yelled out, and I watched as silence gave way to the sound that keeps all hunters coming back to the field and marsh. As the bird folded up, my stomach swelled with pride. You see, this was the first winged creature this boy had ever fired a gun at, and there it lay in front of us, crumpled in the cut cornfield we stood in. As he picked it up and examined his bag, I slapped him on the back giving him a "good shot" and a "nice bird." Several minutes later I followed with a bird of my own.
Several hours later we pulled up to the boat launch in preparation for the youth duck opener the following day. It was late but neither one of us could envision any sleep on the horizon. So, we lit a fire by the river and silently waited for morning to come. At some point in the sleepless night, my hunger got the best of me and within me an idea surfaced.
"You ever clean a bird?", I asked him.
"What a dumb question.", I thought to myself. Of course he hasn't, this was the first bird he had ever shot.
"No." he replied.
"Wanna learn?", I responded.
"Sure," he said as I walked back to the truck for the birds and a blade. As he held the flashlight for me, occasionally stoking the fire, I showed him the art of cleaning small game, explaining each step as I went. He watched intently, and quietly, so as I knew he was retaining every word that crossed my lips, and memorizing every motion of my knife. I then proceeded to cut a small branch from a nearby alder and together we roasted our birds over the campfire.
As we ate, a feeling came over me. It was instinctual. It was something primal, something ancient, something I have felt only a few times in my life here on earth. It is often hard to connect with such feelings, but not on this particular occasion. It was right there in front of me. It was real.
This boy had just killed his very first bird, just several hours prior. Now here we sat, eating it in the darkness, together, by a flowing river, after just roasting it over an open flame. We were not the first to do this, nor will we be the last, but right there, right then, we were the only two on earth. I no longer thought of Bobby as a boy, for this was a rite of passage. This was, in my mind, a step in his evolution into manhood.
I have spent many hours in the outdoors, participating in countless activities. Very few strike me such as this one did. Every detail will forever remain in my soul, for this experience was different. It led be back to a time long ago. It alowed me to connect with things and ways that are foreign to most people living today. And most importantly, it reminded me of a time, a time not so long ago, that I expeienced similar rites of passage. Though I was unaware of it at the time, I can promise to you, someone else was getting as much out of it as me.
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MarshBum
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