The thrill of hunting

I became a hunter around the age of sixteen and prevailed as one for fourteen years.

I am going to educate the reader about the three phases of hunting I experienced during those years.

Phase one was the only one where animals were hunted for their culinary rewards; the quail, pheasant, rabbit and squirrel specifically.

The rabbit and squirrel were my grandfather’s favorite. He did eat my pet pigeons, after all! How could he not love the rabbit and the squirrel?

Hunting small game was not an activity I ever did again, since as food they tasted terrible.

I thought I would like deer meat.

I retired my 12 gauge shot gun when I decided to buy a real hunting rifle; the 308 big game hunting one.

I’ll now continue with the second phase of my experience hunting in the big outdoors; deer hunting. More specifically the male ones.

In preparation for this phase was to taste deer meat. A friend of mine invited me to have dinner with him and his family. The meat tasted terrible.

I did go deer hunting, but without bullets in my weapon.

The second time I went deer “hunting” I went with my cousin again. By the way you never ever want to go hunting alone.

During our trek through the “forest,” my companion had to take a “dump.” While he was sitting on a dead tree trunk, there was a “bark” of a rifle and a bullet blew off a piece of tree bark close to where he sat!

That was my last stroll through the woods looking for deer.

Future “big game “ hunting stories told by my cousin finally ended when he got tired of taking a laxative after each outing.

I spent many rewarding evening shooting at stationary targets in a safe controlled firing range.

The final phase lasted 12 years and was the most rewarding.

I enjoyed the walks, with my 22 caliber rifle, through fields surrounded by trees.

Of all the animals I saw, the crow was the most interesting. When I sat down on a log , the birds would fly closer and “squawked” less, especially if I laid my rifle on the the ground.

Hunting for me ended on a bad “ note.” Who knew that walking around the woods and fields on a rainy day in late fall with a cold would lead to pneumonia.

There came a time, when my daughter was born, that I sold my weapons to a collector who appreciated my choice of guns.

I certainly had no regrets about never hunting again and also making a good “buck” on the sale of my fancy weapons.