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Reminiscing on the good times...My grandad is there with me on every walk home. He has taught me many values and has given me many life lessons. I am sure when he was teaching me these valuable life lessons he wasn't leaning on the fact that I would quit my career in the academic world and pursue a life of outdoor pursuits, or maybe he did?
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| AT trail head in North Carolina |
My grandad taught me how to cast a fishing reel, shoot a gun, garden, use the bathroom outside, and even how to drink whiskey!
"Oh my gosh "T" (this is the nick name for TC that my family uses, like TC isn't short enough) I cannot believe he said that, never mind him he is just telling a story." That sentence and several more like it used to come out of my moms, grandmothers, and aunts mouths like second nature, they were used to it, starting at the ripe old age of four I would come up with some grand stories. When we would visit my Granny in Nashville I would always end up in the middle of some grown-up conversation between my Grandad and Uncle Bob. Fault to both of them, I ended up telling a lot of "grown-up" stories at a very young age. One story in particular was when I used to go hunting with my grandad, after a long day in the field we would head back to camp and settle down to a good glass of whiskey. No...I never drink whiskey with my grandad (at least not at that age), I just made it up to tell people, like any other young lad who wanted to be like his idles, I adopted their stories and put my twist to them. One that probably got my grandad in trouble goes like this; my grandmother was pushing me through a department store, sitting in the cart I would call every woman we passed a bitch, while my grandmother calmly said "No T that's not a ditch, a ditch is outside." I'm sure my grandfather had to suffer for that one later that evening!
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| Me, my aunts, mom, and grandparents |
One summer day when I was knee high to a grasshopper (5 or 6 years old) my grandad and I were on KY Lake bass fishing. I had been hounding him the past couple fishing trips about wanting to go swimming, so that day he granted my wish. You see, I had been swimming before, just always in a crystal clear pool where the bottom was visible. Deductive reasoning was not yet a part of my critical thinking skills, so I assumed I would touch the bottom of this lake. Wrong...with life vest on and a rope tied to me my grandad gives me a toss! The rush of flying through the air was like no other, but abrubtly came to a end when I hit the murky water. Immediately the clear blue sky turned a greenish brown, my scream instantly evolved to bubbles, I had just discovered the hard way that this lake had no bottom! Before true panic could sink in, my grandad hoisted me from the murky abyss and at last I was saved. It took a few more years before I had enough courage to get back in that water, the boat was fine for now.
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| Fishing is by far my grandads favorite, March 2012 |
Now in my adult life I try to think before I act, I do my best to adhere to others warning's. Luckily for me the bottom fell out and I froze at a critical moment early in my life, lets just hope I remember these lessons for now on.
As you can tell, my grandad(who we call Papa*) is a major player in my life. In literally every decision I make, I always ask myself what he would do or what he will think. Not always does it keep me from making the stupid mistake's I continue to make, but I am always proud to make a right decision knowing that he lead me there.
*For those politically correct and to my aunts...the spelling is Papaw/Mamaw, but I have always spelled it differently for no known reason.
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A Fine Turkey Hunt...
Spring of 2012 produced a memory worthy writing down. Tennessee Turkey season had opened and the shared ritual that my grandad and I had shared for the last 14 years continued.
Saturday morning we awoke, drank coffee and discussed exactly how we were going to hunt the birds we had been seeing the previous days. Dressed from head to toe in a fine mixture of camoflauge we headed out the door, my grandad lives on his beef farm, so we literally headed out the back door in the pre-dawn darkness.
I am not sure how long it has taken me to come to this realization, but that morning was the icing on the cake. Standing by my truck I loaded the gun, waiting for my grandad to put on his boots. I handed him the gun and he asked "are you not carrying a gun?" I responded that I was not, "I have the video camera, and besides if you shoot just hand me the gun and I will take the next one that walks by!" To me hunting is not all about killing; its a genetic code in men, one that has not evolved in me...it is still primeval. No, we are no longer the hunter/gather "generation" in the sense that most define, but I deeply feel if I do not get my fix that I will starve myself of that inert trait that God so graciously gave me. Like President Roosevelt, I draw no distinction between myself and any other forest predator. Plus its very comforting to know that I can walk into the woods, and come home with food (FYI...wild turkey is some of the most delicious meat ever consumed in my home, and I have access to some of the best farm raised beef you can get your hands on).
As we settled down next to a large pig nut hickory tree, the twilight was surrendering to the morning dawn. The faint purplish hue that outlined the white stars was fading and the song birds were letting each other know they made it through another wild night, what an absolute beautiful ritual to a part of. Then it happened! What every turkey hunter wants to hear, a thunderous gobble! He was the king of the forest that morning and wanted every one to know it, the spring mating ritual was fully underway.
This Tom was not the only bird vocal that morning, there were a few other "wanna-be" kings in the woods too, plus the cackling hens (no pun intended to me female friends) that wanted to let everyone know they were awake and ready for the day as well. Even if you are not a hunter, I strongly encourage everyone to make at least one trip to the woods one April morning. To hear it come alive is like nothing else, its miraculous awakening is truly wild.
We waited a few minutes to figure out what the turkeys were going to do. I decided to make a few yelps and a fly down cackle to coax the turkeys our direction. Unfortunately we were overrun with ample hens and subordinate toms/jakes that the turkeys went down the hill opposite of us. We then spent the next two hours or so trying our luck at intercepting this group with no luck of getting one within range. Though that first morning was not wasted on a tag, it was another chapter of fond memories with me and my favorite hunting partner, Papa.
We spent the rest of the day doing farm chores and discussing the plan for the next morning. True, we could have spent the entire day hunting and doing everything possible to get a turkey within range, but hunting is only part of our fun. Instead we worked and talked, just like we have for the past 14 years.
Sunday morning came and the scene mirrored the previous morning. This time we were set-up in a different location, in a clump of white oaks between the woods the turkeys were roosting in and the hayfield. The woods were alive and the turkeys were too. I set-up a couple decoys and made a few calls to let the birds know are location then we waited.
The wait was not too long, as within 45 minutes of the sun lighting the sky the turkeys had flown down and started to make there way to us. First was a group of a dozen or more hens with a small jake in tow. The moved past us just out of range, giving the decoys very little thought. We stayed silent and motionless so they would feed past us, because within hearing distance and just beyond the rise we heard gobbling. Not just one either but multiple birds competing for dominance. Possibly yesterday during the middle of the day, a few toms got together to "strut" their stuff you might say. In the middle of trying to establish dominance sun started to set and they were forced to roost in the same area, of course this was not a hard decision for the new Toms as there were ample hens roosting in nearby trees as well. Another possible reason for the new Toms in the neighborhood is that a predator, such as a coyote, came through in the later hours of the day or even dark, which forced the birds to move. Regardless we now had 4 nice mature Toms headed our direction!
As the Toms crested the rise they immediately took inventory of the new Tom (our decoy) and did not like the fact that he had a hen (our other decoy) with him. The next 5 minutes brings a whole new meaning to "Tom Foolery", these birds came strutting in and gobbling their heads off. They basically walked into our laps. We quietly discussed what might be the biggest bird and my grandad got ready. As the biggest bird walked in the middle of the decoys I clucked, immediately he stuck his head up to see what was wrong. The 12 gauge 3.5" super mag turkey load had already laid him to rest before he could blink, the shot was quick and clean. Before I could get excited and start the high five's my grandad handed me the gun. One of the Toms was still around and on his way to flock (or should we say beat a man while he is down) the other Tom while he was down. Much to his surprise it didn't end that way. Me and my grandad had just doubled on two mature turkeys, a hard feat to accomplish let alone with only one gun.
We high fived and laughed with excitement as we made our way to check out our prize. Yes we get excited, but we also give thanks to nature and its creator for giving us this opportunity. We did our part in modern wildlife science and now it was time for the critter to do its part, deep fried turkey breast strips with sweet chili dipping sauce is the creme de la creme in the wild game department.
Another spring in the books, man I cannot wait until this fall to get back out in the woods with him as our black powder tradition is just right around the corner.
He served over 20 plus years in the Armed Service, multiple tours to Vietnam. Stationed throughout the world and retired as a Sergeant Major. Helped raise three awesome daughters and has been blessed with three son in-laws and seven grandsons and one great-grandson. Married to the love of his life for over 50 years and still loves her like it was their first year. He is 68 years old, still working a full time job and has no plans of slowing down. Man do I have a lot to live up too!
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Is home where the heart is?
Sitting in Cody, WY, waiting on my laundry to finish, I am wrapping up this post. This is such a beautiful area, and hopefully I will be able to purchase a residents here one day. Yes it will be my home, but only when I am there, so establishing a residence is the idea for now. If home is really where the heart is, then home for me is nomadic yet concrete in the contrary sense.
Angela is not here right now and I am greatly missing her, so part of my heart is with her. Blogging about my grandad has me missing him right now as well, wishing he could be here with me spending time in this beautiful part of our country, instead him and my grandmother are on a Caribbean Cruise!
However, my heart still craves for more adventure. So Yellowstone, the Great Plains, and Big Horns will be my home for now. Where I'm walking to right now is desolate of people, wild mustangs that are free from domestication and still carry on their ancestral roots, where humans are just above equal on the food chain against the grizzly and wolf, where tiny fractures in the earths crust allow the great forces of the worlds core to slowly release pressure and form hot springs and geysers. Lewis and Clark once walked through here on their journey home, I find it an honor to do the same.
Saturday morning we awoke, drank coffee and discussed exactly how we were going to hunt the birds we had been seeing the previous days. Dressed from head to toe in a fine mixture of camoflauge we headed out the door, my grandad lives on his beef farm, so we literally headed out the back door in the pre-dawn darkness.
I am not sure how long it has taken me to come to this realization, but that morning was the icing on the cake. Standing by my truck I loaded the gun, waiting for my grandad to put on his boots. I handed him the gun and he asked "are you not carrying a gun?" I responded that I was not, "I have the video camera, and besides if you shoot just hand me the gun and I will take the next one that walks by!" To me hunting is not all about killing; its a genetic code in men, one that has not evolved in me...it is still primeval. No, we are no longer the hunter/gather "generation" in the sense that most define, but I deeply feel if I do not get my fix that I will starve myself of that inert trait that God so graciously gave me. Like President Roosevelt, I draw no distinction between myself and any other forest predator. Plus its very comforting to know that I can walk into the woods, and come home with food (FYI...wild turkey is some of the most delicious meat ever consumed in my home, and I have access to some of the best farm raised beef you can get your hands on).
As we settled down next to a large pig nut hickory tree, the twilight was surrendering to the morning dawn. The faint purplish hue that outlined the white stars was fading and the song birds were letting each other know they made it through another wild night, what an absolute beautiful ritual to a part of. Then it happened! What every turkey hunter wants to hear, a thunderous gobble! He was the king of the forest that morning and wanted every one to know it, the spring mating ritual was fully underway.
This Tom was not the only bird vocal that morning, there were a few other "wanna-be" kings in the woods too, plus the cackling hens (no pun intended to me female friends) that wanted to let everyone know they were awake and ready for the day as well. Even if you are not a hunter, I strongly encourage everyone to make at least one trip to the woods one April morning. To hear it come alive is like nothing else, its miraculous awakening is truly wild.
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| Multiple tours of Vietnam made him a man, so I listen when he speaks |
We spent the rest of the day doing farm chores and discussing the plan for the next morning. True, we could have spent the entire day hunting and doing everything possible to get a turkey within range, but hunting is only part of our fun. Instead we worked and talked, just like we have for the past 14 years.
Sunday morning came and the scene mirrored the previous morning. This time we were set-up in a different location, in a clump of white oaks between the woods the turkeys were roosting in and the hayfield. The woods were alive and the turkeys were too. I set-up a couple decoys and made a few calls to let the birds know are location then we waited.
The wait was not too long, as within 45 minutes of the sun lighting the sky the turkeys had flown down and started to make there way to us. First was a group of a dozen or more hens with a small jake in tow. The moved past us just out of range, giving the decoys very little thought. We stayed silent and motionless so they would feed past us, because within hearing distance and just beyond the rise we heard gobbling. Not just one either but multiple birds competing for dominance. Possibly yesterday during the middle of the day, a few toms got together to "strut" their stuff you might say. In the middle of trying to establish dominance sun started to set and they were forced to roost in the same area, of course this was not a hard decision for the new Toms as there were ample hens roosting in nearby trees as well. Another possible reason for the new Toms in the neighborhood is that a predator, such as a coyote, came through in the later hours of the day or even dark, which forced the birds to move. Regardless we now had 4 nice mature Toms headed our direction!
As the Toms crested the rise they immediately took inventory of the new Tom (our decoy) and did not like the fact that he had a hen (our other decoy) with him. The next 5 minutes brings a whole new meaning to "Tom Foolery", these birds came strutting in and gobbling their heads off. They basically walked into our laps. We quietly discussed what might be the biggest bird and my grandad got ready. As the biggest bird walked in the middle of the decoys I clucked, immediately he stuck his head up to see what was wrong. The 12 gauge 3.5" super mag turkey load had already laid him to rest before he could blink, the shot was quick and clean. Before I could get excited and start the high five's my grandad handed me the gun. One of the Toms was still around and on his way to flock (or should we say beat a man while he is down) the other Tom while he was down. Much to his surprise it didn't end that way. Me and my grandad had just doubled on two mature turkeys, a hard feat to accomplish let alone with only one gun.
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| The two love struck Toms |
Another spring in the books, man I cannot wait until this fall to get back out in the woods with him as our black powder tradition is just right around the corner.
He served over 20 plus years in the Armed Service, multiple tours to Vietnam. Stationed throughout the world and retired as a Sergeant Major. Helped raise three awesome daughters and has been blessed with three son in-laws and seven grandsons and one great-grandson. Married to the love of his life for over 50 years and still loves her like it was their first year. He is 68 years old, still working a full time job and has no plans of slowing down. Man do I have a lot to live up too!
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Is home where the heart is?
Sitting in Cody, WY, waiting on my laundry to finish, I am wrapping up this post. This is such a beautiful area, and hopefully I will be able to purchase a residents here one day. Yes it will be my home, but only when I am there, so establishing a residence is the idea for now. If home is really where the heart is, then home for me is nomadic yet concrete in the contrary sense.
Angela is not here right now and I am greatly missing her, so part of my heart is with her. Blogging about my grandad has me missing him right now as well, wishing he could be here with me spending time in this beautiful part of our country, instead him and my grandmother are on a Caribbean Cruise!
However, my heart still craves for more adventure. So Yellowstone, the Great Plains, and Big Horns will be my home for now. Where I'm walking to right now is desolate of people, wild mustangs that are free from domestication and still carry on their ancestral roots, where humans are just above equal on the food chain against the grizzly and wolf, where tiny fractures in the earths crust allow the great forces of the worlds core to slowly release pressure and form hot springs and geysers. Lewis and Clark once walked through here on their journey home, I find it an honor to do the same.
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| My home for a few nights in the Big Horn Basin of WY. The Beartooth Mountains are in the far distant horizon, beyond that is the majestic Yellowstone. |
