The "hunt until we drop" mentality followed a predictable trend: our numbers thinned. We did a quick walk in the fen, which produced a lot of shooting and even a few birds. One of which Paul and Dad went back for and Ruby ended up finding. A select few went out for a find walk in what remained of the eastern section. We walked that little wooded area that we find to be a tiny gem every year and this year was no exception. There was a couple hens and a lone rooster there. It flushed on the other side giving Micheal Johnson a chance. First shot...miss. I admittedly looked away as the bird was a mile out there already. He shot again. Pasted him. Nick practically walked up to it in the corn stubble. We essentially walked it all in one hit, backwards. We started where we usually end the first push. Worked out well and we even ended up with another bird. Mocha had a picture perfect point and flush that was just the icing on the cake for the evening. Once we hobbled our way back to the truck it was time to call it a day. Once back to the house, it was time to toast our evening. We collected by the ash tree next to the driveway. We passed around the VO and Dad toasted to the pets lost in the fire. If there was a dry eye there, they were somewhere else. In Dad's infinite wisdom-filled fashion he ended the toast with a prayer:
Pledge of Commitment
to Protect and Heal God’s Creation
We have come to renew our covenant with God and with one
another in Christ Jesus, our Lord; to help protect God’s creation. We have come as followers of Jesus to commit
ourselves anew to one another and to heal injustice and poverty; to stand
together against all threats of life. We
have come to discover some new beauty every day in God’s creation: the sunrise and sunset, birds, flowers and
trees, rainbows in the sky, the stars, the many forms of life in the
forest. We have come to listen to the
“music of the universe”—water flowing over rocks, the wind, trees bending in
the wind, raindrops pattering on the roof.
We will remember always that God speaks to us through the beauty of his
creation, and we will try our best to answer God’s call to reverence all that
he has created. In Jesus name we
pray. Amen.
I will be making the suggestion that this prayer be shared at every camp.
We finished our evening with a meal fit for kings. Rachel's dips with veggies and beer bread, mashed potatoes, and venison stew prepared by my mother. It was wonderful. The chirping and conversations never ceased. Although it may have been chaotic at times, it was great to see everyone that was able to attend. Eventually, the word got out that a fire was needed outside, and once Adam heard it we had a great campfire. I enjoyed greatly the Gibson's that Uncle Rick brought (and shared). It was a cool night and was marred only slightly but the burning feather stench from Dave deciding it was a good idea to burn a couple of the leftover pheasant carcasses. At one point, a hilarious moment presented itself involving the word 'damn' and burning pheasant stench. If anyone can remember what exact was said I would thoroughly enjoy it.
At any rate, Rachel and I continued our conversations with everyone and the topic of Calvin and Hobbs came up with Dave. We told him that we always compared Connor and Jamison to their likeness, at which point Connor stated, "Common sense? I have lots of common sense. I just choose to ignore it."
I don't know whether to smother or hug that kid. ;)
Once the evening ended and it was just Micheal Parker and I we threw on the last two pheasants so no one else would smell it and went to bed. *
The next morning we didn't exactly spring into gear. I was informed that Jesse was sick enough that Rick was taking him in and camp was over for them. I saw Jesse before they left and it hurt me to see him in such a state. It was great to have Jesse at camp and I really hope to see him up there again next year.
Right at 9:00 Nick, Austin, Michael, and I went behind the house and did a quick tromp. Saw a few birds but no shots. We got back up to the house where Dad walks up to me and says,
"Eldest son present at pheasant camp, I am done. Your Grandpa is done, and your Uncle Paul is done. You get to do the decision making as to where and how we do today's hunt. We are done making these decisions."
.....Well Nick and I had already decided. We planned the same walk as the morning previous, but backwards. We managed to pull a few birds out again, one of which we lost as I made a marginal shot and he ran for the hills. When we got back to camp, breakfast was ready and it was time to head out.
Nick and I made an observation this camp: we are in transitioning. We remember vividly the days when the Uncles, and Dad were, for lack of better term, balls to the walls, about the hunting. We youngsters struggled to keep up, and by days end were a heap in a chair in the corner. This camp was different even so then last year. We spent more time hanging out and less time chasing roosters. Yes, we do call it pheasant camp, but this year it was much less about the pheasants. The uncle's spent time together. Talking. Watching. Observing. Dave spent time with Connor shooting pellet gun. Jason shot trap with his sons. Rick spent every moment he could with Jesse. Paul and Dad spent time floating. It was Nick and I, and the select few that were after birds, either in practice or in mind at all times. Even with that in mind, Nick and I were less concerned about the hunting. The transitioning came into full view when Dad told me he was done deciding things. I knew then, that the hunt was merely an excuse. An excuse to get family together. An excuse that we, for the most part, all shared an interest in. This excuse has created a gathering that many families cannot fathom.
I love Pheasant Camp.
Stay Tuned.
* footnote: The next morning this move proved costly as Charlie, Nick and Lisa's mutt, ate the remaining crunchies from those phesasants, and then proceeded to puke it up on blankets in the camper...
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