Midrivers from RacksandSpurs said : Thanks for mystical memories of seasons past and and helping us to realize the sacrifices made in one area of our lives to accomodate a feeling of contentment and fufillment in another. He then goes on to get all complimentary on my writing to the point that I can’t repeat it here.

Here’s my reply:

It’s funny you say “sacrifices.” At the time I took Gordo up on his invite and moved into his spare room, I was happy to have a roof over my head. The tent had just been a means to an end. Later, hunting from home instead of weekend camping/hunting trips seemed luxurious. I never felt the sacrifice. Even today, I’m hunting from a farm house 63 miles outside of town. It feels soooo good to roll out of a bed at 5 instead of an air mattress. I walk to my stands.

I only see a sacrifice when I look back on twenty years and what was left of my youth being invested in starting a family. It was as not just hunting. It was everything. Now, two wives, three sons, and 20 years later, the investment is paying off. I’ve had to invest most of that 20 years to build a deer camp and populate it with two hunting buddies. Even those I had to father myself. The deer camp itself has had 4 hard years of renovation to get it to where it’s ready for reasonable habitation and the occasional guest or two.

If, in 1985, I’d had an invite to somebody’s deer camp, I might very well been the average 3-season-and-out deer hunters. I’d be just another blow-hard staying home to watch college football and raking leaves and reading Outdoor Life at the barber shop. My bow would be mouldering in the closet along with my slug gun.

As it was, my hunting buddies were all dying off, I had nowhere else to go and I started hunting on my own and continued to dream of getting invited to deer camp.

Granted, a deer camp with only three guys is a bit sparce, but I did the best I could. The pay-off started when #2 son took my 54 Hawken last month and capped his first button buck. Last weekend, #3 son started shooting an adult-sized .22 rifle. He’ll be ready for the 30-30 next year.

Sacrifice? Naw!

BTW: Thanks y’all. The shaman rises from his seat at the Campfire and takes a deep and humble bow.

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