Lots of kid memories but my two best center around bears.
My first big game animal was a black bear when I was fourteen and growing up in da U.P. The first morning it was pretty obvious that Dad and I didn't build the brush blind big enough for two people as we were sandwiched in there so tight neither my Dad or I could move. So, Dad waited for it to get light and snuck out the 1/4 mile to the rig where he proceeded to sit from dark to dark listening to the radio, reading, and waiting for me to kill a bear... this took three days! I cannot imagine how bored he must have been sitting there day upon day waiting to hear me shoot! The sacrifice he made ultimately paid off as I was able to kill a great bear on the third long day.
The second bear story comes from Wyoming and my first year teaching. One of my students expressed his desire to go bear hunting as he had never been. In fact, he had never even seen a bear! So I told him that with his parent's permission I'd take him hunting in the spring. His parents gave us the nod and when school let out the first week of June we headed for the Bighorns with enough gear for a week of hunting. Long story short we spent a lot of time hiking and glassing for bruins with our best day being the first one in which we spotted five bears and had a very close encounter with a young sow and cubs. The week progressed and the weather deteriorated each day seemingly making the bears disappear. This young man had very insufficient gear and no rain gear so each evening we built a roaring fire to dry out our (his) gear. Needless to say we had a blast and saw so many animals (deer, elk, moose, coyotes, grouse, etc.) that we were astounded. However, the hunt grew more difficult each day with the bad weather and after a week of getting soaked to the bone and taking turns wearing my only rain gear it all came to a head. Sitting on a high ridge under a small wind blasted pine glassing for bears while being pummeled with a wintry mix of rain and snow and wind with six days of frustration on blown stalks and weather sapped spirits I turned to my young student and noticed him shivering while trying to glass as the rain and snow trickled down his sleeves and under his collar down the middle of his back. He was stoically toughing it out but obviously miserable. I asked, "Joe, what do you want to do?" He lowered his head in defeat and said, "Coach, I wanna go home." "You sure, we still have two more days and this weather is supposed to break, I'd hate to have you go home without a bear." I replied. He said, "this has been the best hunt of my life, I don't care if I get a bear." Needless to say we packed up and drove the three hours home.
Joe still comes to "hunt" bears with me each spring even though I've moved halfway across the state. He has also turned into a fine young man and a quite accomplished hunter. I smile every time I think back to that character building trip into the Bighorns where a man and a boy, a teacher and a student built a lifetime bond around the noble passion of hunting.
