Hunting Buddies
The other night when I went into my son's room to tuck him in and tell him goodnight, I found him writing feverishly, his paper propped up on his school binder like a makeshift writing desk. "Daddy, come back in a minute; I'm almost finished." Perplexed, I agreed and left the room. A few minutes later, I returned and he smiled sheepishly and said, "There. Finished!". He snatched his paper and ran past me. "Be right back, Daddy!"
When he returned for bedtime, he allowed as how he had left me something under my pillow, and that I was going to like it. I tucked him in, sang to him, hugged him, kissed him, and turned out his light. I then went to my room where I found under my pillow the following story, written by my son's hand, on a piece of loose leaf paper.
I reproduce it here, verbatim, grammatical miscues and all:
"This is a story of hunting with my daddy.
"Theirs all sorts of names you can call your daddy in the woods, such as dad, daddy. But the main one is, hunting buddie. the reason why is, he'll look back, and remember it. Now my hunting buddie told me that your not always gonna kill something, its part of hunting. And he said when you do it's a blessing from God.
"Now their was a time when my daddy and I were deer hunting, and we got into a stand, and the wind was blowing behind us that means the smell is in the woods aka, no deer. So we got out and checked out a shooting house but it was infested with wasps. So we went through some really, really thick woods to see if a deer was going to bed down. It took us about 30 sec to get situated. We hear something walking, I said, whats that? My hunting buddie said probably a raccoon. But their was a 5 foot tree that got bulldozed over and my hunting buddie saw a tan saddle, and said get behind me. it was heading our way, so my hunting buddie threw up his gun, and, lights out for the hog. It was scary and fun. It was the best time ever with my hunting buddie. I love you daddy."
Now, I'm fully aware that each and every editor out there would go through two red pens correcting and polishing my son's story. I am also cognizant of the fact that by reading the story as-is, one would have a hard time discerning that my son and I came face-to-face with a boar at about ten steps as we walked down what we thought to be a deer trail, but that proved to be a hog trail, and that I shot said boar before it got a chance to wind us, or see us, or charge us. It was exhilarating but dangerous just the same.
I am a long-time fan of the writings of Gene Hill, Tom Kelly, Havilah Babcock, Don Thomas, Vereen Bell, and many others. But the short little story my 10-year-old son left me under my pillow the other night is far-and-away my favorite story ever. I can't wait to live - and read - some more.
When he returned for bedtime, he allowed as how he had left me something under my pillow, and that I was going to like it. I tucked him in, sang to him, hugged him, kissed him, and turned out his light. I then went to my room where I found under my pillow the following story, written by my son's hand, on a piece of loose leaf paper.
I reproduce it here, verbatim, grammatical miscues and all:
"This is a story of hunting with my daddy.
"Theirs all sorts of names you can call your daddy in the woods, such as dad, daddy. But the main one is, hunting buddie. the reason why is, he'll look back, and remember it. Now my hunting buddie told me that your not always gonna kill something, its part of hunting. And he said when you do it's a blessing from God.
"Now their was a time when my daddy and I were deer hunting, and we got into a stand, and the wind was blowing behind us that means the smell is in the woods aka, no deer. So we got out and checked out a shooting house but it was infested with wasps. So we went through some really, really thick woods to see if a deer was going to bed down. It took us about 30 sec to get situated. We hear something walking, I said, whats that? My hunting buddie said probably a raccoon. But their was a 5 foot tree that got bulldozed over and my hunting buddie saw a tan saddle, and said get behind me. it was heading our way, so my hunting buddie threw up his gun, and, lights out for the hog. It was scary and fun. It was the best time ever with my hunting buddie. I love you daddy."
Now, I'm fully aware that each and every editor out there would go through two red pens correcting and polishing my son's story. I am also cognizant of the fact that by reading the story as-is, one would have a hard time discerning that my son and I came face-to-face with a boar at about ten steps as we walked down what we thought to be a deer trail, but that proved to be a hog trail, and that I shot said boar before it got a chance to wind us, or see us, or charge us. It was exhilarating but dangerous just the same.
I am a long-time fan of the writings of Gene Hill, Tom Kelly, Havilah Babcock, Don Thomas, Vereen Bell, and many others. But the short little story my 10-year-old son left me under my pillow the other night is far-and-away my favorite story ever. I can't wait to live - and read - some more.
posted by Days Afield Host | 4:30 PM
