Top_Heavy's World

The boy was out of breath as he burst thru the door. "I GOT ONE, IT'S HUGE... I GOT MY FIRST RACCOON" The group walked down the fence row towards the back of the farm, father and sons, in retrieval procession. Along the back of the family farm runs a small trickle, a tiny creek that stayed open year round from the tiles and seeps. The boy knew every inch of that creek, it seemed so much bigger then... It was Christmas eve, he had been running his trap line for the entire season, now almost 2 months old. He had finally caught his first animal! The trap line consisted of a single #1 1/2 longspring trap. This trap was found along another creek that summer while fishing for chubs and other small creek fish. The trap was still wired to a log, obviously carried off in a flood. The boy had claimed his prize and carried it the entire way home. The entire summer was spent thinking about the huge piles of fur that would be harvested. The pictures of a cabin wall covered in stretched furs filled the poor boys dreams. That single raccoon, a huge female out of it's den during a warm spell, was the start... His father handed him the .22 rifle, his dream now a reality.

The truck slowed in the early morning darkness, a young boys face was pressed against the passenger side window. His eyes were straining, searching with whole hearted enthusiasm for the sign of something... anything... The truck stopped and the boy lept to the road side and shined his little flashlight over the bank. Nothing, a bank hole set still untouched. This routine repeated itself another 3 times that day, and the next, and the next. At the end of the week, the boy had caught 2 raccoons and a 'possum.

The binoculars, the bird book and the bird feeder were not the present the boy was hoping for... he actually cried when he opened the bag of bird seed. He ran upstairs to his room, running as fast as the tears drained down his face. No erector sets, not an action hero, or even plastic soldiers... he had gotten a book and a bag of corn. Soon a stately figure filled the door. Words of advice, words of possibilities, words of wisdom were spoken. Soon enough the young boy, still vulnerable, crept back to the family... That feeder was set, filled and watched, with in days the young boy was shooting every type of bird imaginable. He would take the birds and lay them neatly in a row, then use the book to identify the beautiful feathered creatures. The bag of corn and the book were showing promise to the young outdoorsman to be. I wonder if the same gift would have been offered, if the giver could look to today, and see what it inspired?

"I GOT ONE, A BUCK, A BIG ONE. GET UP, I CAN'T MOVE IT ANYMORE!" he hissed to his sleeping father. His excitement almost too much to contain, but his respect for his father enough to keep him from yelling. The man, never having hunted deer was amazed. "You really got one?" rubbiing the sleep from his eyes, he spoke of friends, grown men, whom had hunted for deer for years, with out ever getting one. How could this little boy, not old enough to drive, have harvested a buck in only 3 days? The man, seeing the overwhelming excitement, quickly dressed and entered the snowy outside world. The two trudged across the pasture to the edge of the field. It wasn't far from there and they came upon the body of the boys hard work. He had sat for 3 straight days, sunrise to sunset to harvest this deer. The man congratulated his son, still in awe himself. The two pulled the 5 point buck up to the house, it's body pulling easily across the snow. The deer was hung over a garbage can to catch the entrials. It took a considerable amount of time, but the father showed the son how to field dress his first deer. That boy, now a man, has been known to repeat this process in less than a minute, having harvested hundreds of animals since.

He unwrapped the present slowly, partially for fear that it might not be what he believed, and partially because he was engulfed in a new feeling. He had not received a gift of this magnitude, of this much importance to him, in his short life. The bow that lay before him was magical, it gave his immagination a connection to the Zumbo stories, the world opened before him and he heard the calls of animals. He looked again and he saw a Browning Deluxe Nomad, wood riser, laminated limbs, quiver and arrows. The first bow a boy ever gets is a special gift.

"Here son, use this. I bought it a long time ago." The boy was amazed. He was just given a Mossberg 500AB 12 guage pump shotgun. Modified barrel, BB front site, with blue steel and deep colored wood. That gun opened the world of gun hungting to the boy. He shot birds, small game and dozens of deer with that gun. The boy refinished it after years of use started to show on the stock. The boy kept the gun, as he grew into a man, saved for the sons that will soon be big enough. That gun, the only missed by the thieves that broke into the house so many years ago, represents far too much to ever part with, it sits amongst the most improtant possessions the man has.

His father has never hunted deer, bears or any big game, these were not easily found in Buffalo, New York. His mother, a little more rural than dad, was from Detroit, another hard place to find animal adventures. This couple came together long before he was born and decided to test the theory of Nature Vs. Nurture. They wanted to raise this son, one of three, in a rural setting with a tire swing and a creek. They gave him country toys and hunting accessories. They drove him to check his traps, before work each day, to give him another experience. Mother walked with him to hunt for squirrels, pheasants and rabbits, as he was too young to go alone. They showed him to skin, butcher and clean animals, often the first time for themselsves as well. They allowed him to bring skins and dead things into the basement, to bring the smells of mud, work and animals into their very lives. These wonderful parents took the adventurous youth where ever he wanted, allowing him to experience a foriegn type of childhood. He was given encouragement, guidance and taught respect, and the costs was considerable... They sacrificed for this boy, so that he might have a chance at a life far different from their own.

I believe they found the answer they were looking for. That little boy grew to be a man of principle, character and faith. A boy of desire, aged into a man with even more... he grew into a man of success and skill, most of all, he grew into a man who loves his parents. Inspired to be a father, hopefully as pure and perfect as his own, he had children... 4 in all. A man with such deep seeded respect for his mother that he chose a wife with similar character, so his children would be as blessed as he was.

I am often asked how I got into hunting and fishing, was dad a great hunter, was mom's side of the family into fishing or hunting? I always answer "No... my parents didn't hunt, but they sure helped me to be.... ME."

Even at 4 years old, I was in love with the great outdoors, Thanks Mom and Dad.