shawneeslinger

I hadn't intended on posting my story, but after reading dubbya's story (an incredible day in the woods) about hunting with his dad, I thought I'd share my first Father-Son hunting trip with me on the Father side of things. We enjoyed the IL opener last week and here's how I told it on my blog. Hope it brings back some memories or inspires you to make a few:

Monday, April 7th, 2008...a day that will live in infamy.

To be truthful, it began with all intensity about 2 weeks before, but lets not get too picky today. For quite some time my 4 year old son Hunter has been begging me to be included in this years turkey hunting adventures. Mom and dad both thought it would be ok, as long as dad didn't push him too hard. Dad didn't. Just the getting ready to go hunting has been an adventure. We've talked about it at bedtime, we've gone shopping together for our stuff, we've horded honey buns like a chipmunk with a pile of nuts, we've high-fived the approach of opening day for what seems like forever. This has been a father-son bonding episode of monumental proportions.

Our plan was to head to our farm after the evening worship service on Sunday. In his excitement he must have overlooked the "after evening worship service" part. We went to church Sunday Night and I began unlocking doors and turning on lights. Hunter said, "What are you doing daddy?" I said, "Well, I'm getting ready for church." He said, "But I thought we were going to Pope County." I said, "We are after church is over." His wonderful response was, "But I dont want to hear you preach anymore." To which I responded, "Neither does anyone else, but sometimes you've gotta do what you've gotta do." It was funny.

We did make it to the farm after church. We did get the Double Bull set up. We made it to bed, though neither of us slept very well. At 4:30 am I got up and got ready to hunt. I waited till the last possible moment to get Hunter up, but alas, it was still about 3 hours too early for him. I was proud of the fact that he woke up and got dressed. He wasn't whiny or crabby. My hopes were high and climbing.

We crawled into our hunting blind right as it was beginning to get light. Not as early as I would've liked, but given my companion, I was proud we were there at all. (The last time I tried to take Hunter's mommy, she rolled over and went back to sleep leaving me to be the Forestland Defender all by myself.) We did hear a few turkeys gobbling, but nothing very close. At minute 11 (ELEVEN!!) Hunter said, "Daddy, I'm ready to go back to the cabin." ELEVEN CRUMMY MINUTES!!!!!!!!!!!!And then the tears began to fall. I asked him if he thought he could make it 5 or 10 more minutes. I would at least like to make it until the sun came up. He said he could, and literally seconds later he was fast asleep in his chair. (That meant we were gong to make it till the sun came up...HOORAY!)

There were two different groups of turkeys coming towards us. I was starting to think we might actually get a bird. To our west there were several hens just inside the woodline who were responding favorably to my amazing calling technique. To our east there were some young gobblers directing another small group of hens right for us. Both groups were headed straight for us...A TURKEY SANDWICH and we were the filling. The stuff dreams are made of. This was going to be amazing. In my sons eyes I would become an immortal---the Greatest Dad to ever step foot into the forest. Mentally, I was already putting on my well-earned "Worlds Greatest Dad T-shirt and hat."

I turned to wake Hunter from his nap, but I was too late. He had already become alert. I tried to show him the approaching turkeys but he wasn't too interested. I tried to get him to use the binoculars, no avail. I tried to fill him up with Easter Basket M&M's---no good. I told him I'd buy him a dirtbike. Even that failed. Hunter didn't care about hunting, turkeys or anything but going back to the cabin and doing that RIGHT NOW!!!

I've promised myself for forever that I wouldn't be one of those dads who tries to staple MY desires, hopes and dreams to my KIDS forehead. No vicarious living, no reclaiming the glory days at the expense of my kids. Those people make me ill as they rob the creative genious of God by stuffing their kids in a box of their own design. So, with success a mere 150 yards away and coming, we climbed out of our blind and headed back to the cabin. Turkeys running everywhere, taking with them my awesome shirt and hat.

Of course I was disappointed. There was one really nice longbeard in the bunch that would look awesome as a pedestal mount in my office with a great picture of father and son beside it. But why ruin a good thing, why settle for a stuffed trophy when the real one---a thriving relationship with my son built on trust---was right within my grasp.

This weekend turned out to be the best I've ever had, just because my son and I were attached at the hip for most of it. It kind of reminds me of an old episode of the Simpson's where Marge is tempted to have an affair with her bowling instructor (Hows that for a stretch). She doesn't and the instructor isn't too upset by his failure to score. He says something to the effect that "Anticipation is greater than the deed."

That rings true for us in this hunting adventure. We spent just under AN HOUR preparing for each MINUTE Hunter was in the hunt. I thank my God for giving us such a great time and praying He gives us many more (that last a little longer).