Life Recharged II
This weekend Andrew and I went on a backcountry road in Del Norte County that I went on one time when I was a kid with my father-38 years ago. The last time I had gone on the road was when I was 12 years old. The road is the northernmost accessible road in Del Norte County and it really is not too far away, certainly not 38 years ago away! The furthermost point is only 40 miles away-as the crow flies. The road is gravel and dirt, graveled in Del Norte County and dirt in Oregon. It darts back and forth over the border, and having a GPS we could tell exactly when we were at the 42nd parallel (the line of demarcation between California and Oregon). If history hadn’t altered we would have been leapfrogging with the Spanish and English border!
Anyway, the last time I had been over this road I remember sleeping for most of the day. It was one of those hot Fall days and Dad and I were hunting for deer. In between looking for “a big fat buck” and more often than not, nodding off, I was brought to my senses by our ’51 Dodge pickup abruptly coming to a halt. Skidding even-pretty good as we creeping along at about 5 miles per hour. From my blurred state of mind I could see Dad throwing the door open and rushing across in front of the pickup with his gun at the ready. He had spied “a big fat buck.” He disappeared through the brush and moments later I heard his gun go off 3 or 4 times. By that time my adrenalin was running, but I had no where to go, not really sure if I should follow him, or stay in the truck. After what seemed like hours Dad came walking back up the road with a sweaty brow and a broad grin on his face. I couldn’t wait for him to tell me if he had been successful, I had to blurt out, “Did you get ‘im?” “Yep, I got ‘im,” he said, “he’s down over the bank.” He got in the pickup and we drove down the road, around and down the switchback and underneath to where he stopped the truck and announced, “He’s up there,” pointing about 100 yards up the hill. I had to believe him, as I couldn’t see anything because of the tall brush. He had an uncanny sense of direction and being able to find things, without a map, or like me now-a-days, a GPS. He left his 30.06 in the pickup and took off through the brush with me tagging along behind him, not wanting to miss any more of the adventure. Moments later he located the deer and found that he had hit him in the neck. Not bad for a 120 yard shot-with open sights.
I soon found out that as soon as the deer goes down the fun is over. Next came the job of gutting out the deer and dragging him down the side of the mountain to the truck. Between the heat of the day and the smell of the entrails, I felt that this was just about as much adventure as I could stomach for one day. From our location we were able to look down onto the North Fork of the Smith River at a place called Major Moore’s. Since we were still about 2 hours from home we had quite a ride home.
I remember quite distinctly that I didn’t fall asleep the rest of the way home, every few minutes peering into the back of the pickup to make sure that the buck hadn’t jumped out of the back ending my dream. He never did jump out and I never did have to wake up, because it really happened. I had gone hunting with my Dad, and we had been successful. While I hadn’t shot it, for some reason, I felt as much a part of the success as if I had shot the deer myself. Actually, he had seen two deer, one had crossed the road, and one had turned back the way they had come.
When we arrived home after dark and announced to my Mom that “we” had got a deer. She wasn’t exactly as thrilled as I was. But she understood that it was important for me to see where our meat animals really come from and that this animal gave up its life for us. Yes, “we” had taken a life, but this really made me understand that the tidy little packages of meat that we buy at the grocery store mean that an animal had to die so that my body could be nourished
We didn’t get a deer today. But this trip with Andrew did bring back memories of me being in the out-of –doors with my Dad. And it was a good feeling—a very good feeling. Getting a deer would have been just more icing on the cake. I believe that everything happens when it should, and today, well, it just wasn’t meant to enjoy that much icing. Maybe in another 38 years when I go on this road again, I will go after the buck that turned back, or maybe my grandson will.