From a Child's Eyes

As those who know me will tell you, I'm kind of a dreamer when it comes to hunting. I can't afford those things that others can and at 55 years old I still don't have the time that I once thought I would when I got to this stage in my life. I have no complaints other than how hard it is to find a quality hunting space within the means of my account. I'm not sure if as a kid growing up I took my opportunities, as I remember them, for granted or if it was just a better time and place. Either way I've found myself wondering why I wasn't given or didn't find the opportunity to hunt that others seem to have. It's amazing how I've come from a self-supporting hunter as a kid who would walk 10 miles in the falling snow and not shoot a round to a guy who has placed expectations on the results of a hunt before I even have the license in hand.

I guess that's where I am at my age, wondering what happened to the wonderment of hunting-as a kid!

I mentioned in a blog a long time ago that I don't know if I was Blessed to have had the childhood that I did or if I am cursed to have the memories. Fact is there have been moments over the past few years where I found myself thinking about selling/donating/giving my hunting stuff away and calling it quits. I think that for the most part over the past 20 years it's been that one more trophy that I was looking for or that one more friend to share a hunt with. Now it seems that I'm just trying to find and relive that past childhood that I once enjoyed.

I've found life a bit trying lately, family, work, friends-all changing and not always for the good. At the same time however I landed a very respectable 155+ inch buck in Saskatchewan last fall, kind of weighs in right between the buck of a lifetime and "the one"....a 170+ incher. Make no mistake about it, I've lived my last 10 years in search of just one for the record book, on limited funds and time-it's but a dream.

I think that the true trophy in hunting lies within the experience itself. Each hunt over the last decade has brought memories and experiences second to none, yet only one respectable wall mount to talk about-and oh so many stories to tell.

I've somehow grown to be an adult version of that kid from Nebraska of oh so long ago. I think my father would be proud of me, not so much over my lifetime, but the end result-well, it ain't half bad.

Rest assured that although many guns have disappeared from the safe, ammo has been supplied to others and hunting gear such as unused climbing stands-that I just had to have-have been given away to those who would use them, that there is still a place in my heart for what I refer to as Remington Country. I long to be there and once there I'm a kid again. Over the past several years I've found myself not hunting while others were stomping the brush lines, sitting in a truck watching as friends walked valley's and canyons that once would have been my own fortress of solitude. I've worked hard to find places for guys to hunt just to see one of them harvest a wall hanger, all for not though. Several shot opportunities, no hangers.

The joy of the kill has all but left me, lingering in it's place is an absolute wonderment in all that I see while afield. There is an air of uncertainty as I grow older, not sure how much time I have left to stand in the field. I watch as my Father in Law ages knowing that he'll never step foot afield to go gunning as he lovingly calls it. My own Father has passed, he left but memories. I look in the mirror and see those lines on my face, knowing that I'm the next wave to pass. I stand ready, smile on my face, I've finally realized that I've received all that I wanted from hunting-to be able to see it from a Child's Eyes.