6th Prize
Hunting Journal with Weatherby Logo (100 awarded)
Bobby Byrd, Virginia
“My brother and I haven’t hunted together in 10 years. We grew up hunting as kids. We didnt have a clue what we were doing. We read Field and Stream, Outdoor Life, and Hunting magazines and tried to figure it out as we went. Our father was never much of a deer hunter, but taught us to shoot when we were four years old. We both owned handguns before our 12th birthday. We shot a lot of clays and targets together throughout our lives. In the mid–90s, he decided to head to college out west and decided to stay. He and his wife now reside in Seattle, Washington and I’m in Virginia. We about as far apart as two people can be. Luckly, with the congestion in Seattle, he spends plenty of time waiting in traffic. Thank goodness, because he calls me during his commute to work. Usually the discussion is always guns or hunting. Our wives usually give us a hard time because we forget to ask about each others kids. Hunting fever, I guess.
Over the last 10 years, we’ve exchanged quite a few stories about the ones that got away, and the ones that didn’t. Unfortunatley, only one of us is ever ‘in’ the story. I share my deer hunting and dove hunting with him. He shares ducks, pheasants and elk with me. We’ve even called each other during hunts, just to chat. He once had to call me during a duck hunt because he couldn’t remember what time they we’re allowed to shoot. I had to look it up on the Internet and call him back, next thing I know he drops the phone and started calling away. It was pretty funny.
One of the toughest hunts I ever went on was an exclusive English–style pheasant hunt. I received an invitation by shear luck and had one of the best hunts ever. All except he wasn’t with me. So it’s been tough since he’s moved away. Our children have only seen each other once in their lives, and they are the same age apart as he and I are. It worries me what they’ll miss by growing up so far apart.
As I mentioned above, our father wasn’t much of a deer hunter, but loved to shoot birds. My ideal hunt would be to get my father and brother together for a day of birds and memories. Where? Anywhere. What species? Any species. Doves, quail, ducks, geese, you name it. Just the thought of the three of us together already puts a lump in my throat. You see, today is the evening before the first day of deer season. My wife’s father and I will hunt their farm tomorrow, and make new memories and new stories. And sometime before this season is over, out will come some of the funny stories of hunting with my brother. Whether it’s about the time he held on to a pine tree to ‘relieve some stomach pain’ and found out that toilet paper and pine sap don’t mix. Or the first squirrel I ever shot, that was perfectly hit in the...um...’family jewels.’ ( I was so proud that I ran all the way back to the house to show my mother that I got one, she and my aunt laughed so hard they had tears streaming down their faces.) I know we’ll make memories tomorrow, but there will be one thing missing.”