Last week I attended a birthday celebration for one of my best friends. Rex and I spent a good deal of our youth hunting and fishing together -- the rest we wasted, as the old joke goes. While trying to think of a good birthday card to give him, I found an old picture from our first deer season. Rex killed a muley buck on the first day and I killed one on the second. On Saturday, my granddad accompanied me and Rex's dad came along with him. Granddad gave us instructions on how to field dress Rex's buck that first day. On Sunday, it was just Rex and me, and I remember crawling up to the fence row and peering out over a feed field with six or seven deer on it. The deer, 150 yards away, were aware of us and began trotting toward the trees. Rex excitedly told me to shoot the biggest buck and made sure I knew which one it was. My first shot was high, but the second connected, and the buck crashed into a grass waterway. Rex was watching it with binoculars, giving me a play by play. He handed the glasses to me so I could watch, and I tried. But by then I was shaking so badly, I couldn't hold them steady. I handed them back and said, "You watch." We field dressed that deer trying to remember Granddad's instructions from the morning before. Those hunts were 35 years ago, and I've just recalled the details as vividly as if they happened yesterday. It never ceases to amaze me how learning to hunt and fish when I was young has impacted my life and stayed with me. Those experiences and memories keep me grounded today and remind me how important our outdoor resources and hunting heritage are.
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