It is no secret, I have been an unsuccessful hunter for more than 4 years.  All my dreams of saving the family dollars by killing my own meat has turned out to be a loss on the family ledger.  Year after year, I trudge out to the woods thinking "This will be the year" only to stagger home with blisters and shin splints.  Then, too, are the hopes that I will plug in to a community that will show me the ropes.  But that hasn't happen either.  I once hunted with William Tyler (great great grandson to President John Tyler) only to really feel that it was not real hunting, or at least not the kind of hunting that I wanted to accomplish.  He, along with 15 or so of his friends, ran dogs and really just stood there and waited for the yield.  It was productive enough, but not my cup of tea.  I want to move into an area, use my instincts and really tap into something that many men of today have lost tough with... my instincts.  So far gone are mine, that 4 years into the hunt, I am still without a kill.  Ah, well... I love the woods, need the exercise and have no intention of quitting. 

But that isn't to say that this year produced nothing at all. This year, I had some lime off after Christmas and thought that Bryan would afford me that community that I have been looking for. He is truly a boy after my own heart.  He loves the woods, loves that little 410 shot gun that I bought this year, and isn't afraid to shoot it.  I know... you won't take a deer with a 410... he was intending to take a squirrel with it.  And so he did.  We hadn't even seen a deer that day and were on our way out when we heard a scurry in the brush to the right.  We ventured into the woods, me first, then I called him in after me. 

"There are fat little squirrels just over there," I told him.  I motioned him forward, handed him a shell for his gun and watched him load it.  He was a natural as he drew down on a fat and bold furry in a tree... but he missed.  they all scattered and we moved in to take another shot.  After his second shot, he got discouraged...

"I have no luck," he said.

"I'll take a shot," I said as I moved past him.  I was listening to the trees for sounds of squirrels but suddenly looked down to see a squirrel bleeding out on the ground a few feet in front of me.  I called Bryan over and told him that he needed to thank the Squirrel for his life.  Then I informed him that we needed to finish it off. 

"How are we going to do that?" He asked, to which I replied...

"We are going to cut off his head."

He decided to stand a few feet away and face away, leaving me the dirty work of the Coup de Grace.  I had never killed anything intentionally before, and I wrestled with the duty, but quickly realized that mercy was necessary to ease the suffering of the squirrel.  So I did what was necessary. 

Bryan came very and was clearly bothered at the blood and the deed that had just transpired. 

"You can cry, if you need to." I told him, as it was clear that he was holding back the tears.  He knelt down and did just that.  So did I. 

We cleaned up the site a bit, got our gear together and collected the remains of the squirrel.  I suggested to Bryan that he carry out the kill, since it was his, after all. 

This was truly one of those moments in time that you know that you will cherish for all time.  My son, lost a piece of his boyhood, and gained a piece of his manhood.  Action and consequence, necessity and intention... the things that a man needs to have in his fold, if he is to make it in the world of today, let alone tomorrow.  Finally, a kill.  It wasn't my kill.  It was my son's.  I was proud to be there with him.  And like every father, I want him to be better than I at every thing that he does.  So far, he is in the lead as far as hunting goes.