"Overheard"

Outdoor people and experiences generate some of the fondest stories, one-liners, anecdotes and yarns around. Since I happen to be thinking back on some as I enjoy my coffee on this quiet morning before everyone wakes up, I thought I’d share some with you.


Judge

Some years back, a quail hunting party was making its way through the broomsedge while a black-and-white short-haired pointer bounded and scoured the ground for scents up ahead. Three men, decked out in canvas brush pants and blaze orange vests, carried their .20 gauges in the ready position. They were spaced out in a line about ten yards apart from one another, behind the dog. Just between them and the dog, their host, a seasoned and jovial lawyer, trudged along, slapping the elaeagnus occasionally with his walking stick, yelling, “Come on, Judge! Hunt ‘em up, Judge! Let’s go, now, Judge!”

As they hunted the edge of a food plot, one of the men asked their host about the dog. His face broke out in a contented, boyish grin; then he explained, “Besides my family, my greatest loves have always been the practice of law and quail hunting. Even though I have enjoyed my practice, I got so tired of being bossed around by judges my whole career that I promised myself a long time ago that I was going to get myself a bird dog and name him Judge. Now, any time I go home or take him hunting, I’m finally able to tell a Judge what to do!” He burst out in laughter and added, with gusto, ‘Sit down, Judge! Be quiet, Judge!’”

Not Today

Two or three years ago, my wife and I were preparing to run some errands when I informed her that one of our stops would be at a hunting buddy’s house to leave him a ticket to a turkey banquet. My buddy is always up to something and, somehow, it seems like he’s always just returned from an intriguing hunting destination. Hence, he usually has a doozie of a story to tell or is neck-deep in an intricate project every time we see him.

But apparently this day, my wife was short on patience. Moments before we left the house, she said, “Before we go over there, let me make it clear: No, I do not want to have lunch with him; no, I do not want to hear about his latest trip to kill sheep on Kilimanjaro; no, I do not want to watch him clean his shotguns; no, I do not want to help him build a barn. I’m telling you – it doesn’t matter what he says, the answer is no. Not today.”

Look, Daddy!

When my son was about three years old, he began accompanying me on turkey scouting trips. One particular trip stands out more than others. After we’d been on a sandy trail for a few minutes, we encountered a large hog wallow. As we stepped around it, something long and curved with brown-and-white stripes running down the length of it caught my son’s eye. He stopped to pick it up and inspect it. A moment later, his face lit up.

“Look, Daddy!” he exclaimed. “I found a feather!”

“You sure did,” I said. “You’ve found yourself a nice wing feather. Good job, son.”

I tucked it into one of the holes in the top of his hat and he wore it there for the rest of the day. He stroked it and studied it the whole way home while he asked a seemingly endless stream of questions about turkeys. I’m not saying I planted that feather right in the middle of a trail I knew we’d be walking down, but I sure was happy that it sparked a prideful interest in wild turkeys in my son.

Good Thing You Quit

A couple of years ago, a friend of mine and his wife were expecting their third child at the end of March. As you can imagine, my friend was virtually MIA for months after the baby arrived. When I finally saw him, he relayed to me the following story of a conversation he’d had with another of our hunting buddies a few weeks before the birth.

“When are you guys due?”

“End of March.”

“Wow. Good thing you don’t turkey hunt.”

“No, no; I love turkey hunting.”

“Oh. Well, good thing you quit turkey hunting, then.”



(c) Roger Guilian 2011