October Tradition No More

The 2005 pheasant season opens in 15 minutes. Thirteen seasons ago, Aaron was 5 when we started a tradition I thought would last my lifetime.

At six, Aaron would walk along as far as he could with Molly and me in pursuit of elusive roosters. "Whada ya got Molly, Whatcha got???" I'd chatter as Molly would go from 55 MPH to a reasonable 25 zig- zagging, stopping on point. Aaron's interjection was typical Air-Bear: "Nothin! She's got Nothin, just like always!" The day he wined that famous line was the day we brought home our first rooster together. As the sun was setting and snow began to swirl. Molly locked up in tall grass. Aaron and I walked in and the rooster cooperated by busting out right in front of us. It took me one shot to catch up and a second one to drop the bird. Young Molly showed us her natural abilty and pursued the now running rooster through grass tunnels locating him for the last time some distance from where he went down. Aaron and I were two excited fellows as we raised the bird from his final hiding spot.

If you've ever seen a pouting dog, you know they can surely smile when they're happy. Aaron praised Molly all the way back to the truck. Molly continued to hunt. I walked, and Aaron rode on my shoulders hugging the bird he would proudly show off to his Mom and brother.

The October opener would become a tradition for Aaron, our neighbor Steve Austin and myself a few years later. We would drive to Iowa County on the afternoon of the opening Saturday to hunt Mrs. Cornish's farm. We always came home with two wild roosters. Aaron would carry his BB gun and take shots at flushing roosters with us. When cleaning the bird, I'd show Aaron a BB and he'd announce to Cathy that he shot the bird: "SEE, that's MY BB!"

At 15 years old, as we prepared to depart for the annual hunt, Aaron received a call from his summer employer Matt. Aaronwas invited to break away from the old man and join Matt and a few guys on a pheasant/goose hunt. To say Aaron was excited would be an understatement. If he had reservations about changing the tradition, I don't recall noticing. I had mixed emotions, but mostly good pride in seeing my son go off hunting with someone other than me. He was maturing and ready to fly...at least as far as hunting was concerned. I helped prepare a bag for Aaron to carry his different shells and his goose & duck calls. The bag was one of mine. I proudly turned it over to Aaron after labeling it AARON MEYER 608-846-4423. Like my first baseball glove, I expected this bag to be left behind somewhere by my son and labeling it would at least let the finder-keeper know the name and phone number of the previous owner.

Steve was not able to join me that day and I went off without my traditional opening day buddies. I returned empty handed. Aaron came home with a goose and a wood duck...and the shell bag! A new day had indeed dawned.

April 2nd, 2005 Aaron and I joined Tim and Charlie Kritter, Dave, Hank and (oh my gosh I forgot Dave's daughter's name) Kritter for a hunt at Royal Flush game farm in Windsor. A perfect day. Charlie shot his first flushing rooster and Aaron brought it down with a back-up shot.

Charlie's dog Miss Molly and our Molly, along with Dave's Romeo pointed dozens of birds that day. Aaron, having returned from a year of working on his understanding of his place in the world, was respectful of nature and the elements. Following an Indian tradition, Aaron left tobacco to replace the pheasant's life and thank the earth for sharing the bounty. Aaron took 3 shots that day, all over point, and bagged three pheasants. I watched the final point and shot from well below the spot where Aaron and Hank, along with all three dogs had a wiley rooster hemmed in. The bird flushed from under the noses of the dogs and made an attempt at an escape to the north. I could see the bird reach its zenith and break to the right of Aaron. With one shot Aaron brought the rooster down. Molly fetched it up and brought the stoned bird to Aaron's hand. I was surely pleased to see that my impatient child had grown into a calm, cool sportsman and man of nature.

The lifetime of Father and Son hunting ended too soon. I expected Aaron would be the one walking the fields and remembering days gone by. It takes my breath away to have this day come and be without my huntin' buddy. I'm grateful for the days we had and the promise that Aaron is alive in heaven.

The last time I handed the gun to Aaron, he said "I got it Dad", just as he was taught in hunters education six years ago. The gun sits with a lock on it in my closet. I got it Aaron.

Peace and Love,
Dad