Hunting with Tommy: Part 1

My friend Tommy is knocking on the door of seventy, but has the enthusiasm for life one would expect from a seven year old. His excitement regarding nearly everything is contagious Also, he was the only hunter I knew when I started learning to hunt. He was over the moon. He could already see us out on a hunt together, and I couldn’t blame him. I was excited too. But I was also a little nervous. 

I had heard the stories of Tommy’s glory days of hunting. It was hard to tell what was true and what wasn’t. Extremely long distance shots. Multiple deer with one shot. The list goes on. Despite the absurdity of some of these tales, the emphasis was always on quick ethical kills and delicious meat production. That part sounded good to me, but long range rifle shots were not what piqued my interest in hunting initially.

Edge habitat in he forest often attracts wildlife.

My idea of a hunt was a long hike with heavy gear through rough terrain. Challenging my body and my mind. Miles along high ridge lines through inclement weather. Learning to understand and predict deer behavior. Learning to find a needle in a haystack. Tommy thought I was crazy. He was excited about sitting in a lawn chair with hot chocolate and a rifle. 

The first hunt we shared was a compromise: a walk into public land with camping chairs. We prepared an ambush at the edge of an old logging clearing. A hillside with the young beech saplings slowly making their way towards the surrounding hemlocks. From the clearing where we hunkered down, the view over the valley was mesmerizing. The sun slowly sinking over the distant ridge prompted a deep appreciation for the woods. And I will admit, I was quite comfortable.

On opposite sides of the same clearing, we were within easy hand signal range, but not much else. As the afternoon progressed, and the temperature dropped, the woods around us began to slowly come alive. Birds singing, rustling in the brush, wind blowing through the trees. I was scanning the edges of the clearing, looking for movement intently, when I finally saw something out of the corner of my eye. Oh wait, it was just Tommy. Up from his chair and coming my way. 

Perhaps he was getting too cold? He slowly tiptoed across the dry grass, and when he arrived I couldn’t help the smile that crept up my whole face. He extended his hand with half a bar of chocolate. I was learning something from the secrets (and snacks) that he had to offer. 

A nuthatch scampering up and down a tree is a treat on any walk into the woods.

Nibbling our chocolate, we held our positions until dark. But the deer never came. We packed up our chairs and made for our cars as the rising moon lit the path for us. We recounted our afternoons to each other, elaborating on all of the details present on opposite sides of the woodland clearing. Two bald eagles. A nuthatch. Chipmunks. Possible deer noises from different directions and even a porcupine. It was wonderful. 

Hunting by myself, the unsuccessful hunts were often followed by disappointment. I failed. I didn’t achieve my goal. I made mistakes. But hunting with Tommy, those thoughts didn’t cross my mind. And I realized what Tommy was teaching me. He was teaching me how to enjoy hunting. How to enjoy the activity itself, without the pressure and expectations I seemed to place on my shoulders. His enthusiasm, just for sitting in the woods together, helped me to grasp how grateful I was to be engaged in such a rich and ancient tradition.