Manassas, GA 'Tis The Season Hunting Season that is-deer season in particular.  It comes in slowly with bow, then black powder and then no holds barred whatever you can hit one with.  It is the time of the Hunting Widow when husbands disappear until January.  In my case, both child and spouse vacate the premises every Saturday in search of big game and bigger stories. Men who one might fondly call Pete, Mack and Shane nine months out of the year, become Mud Dog, Bob Cat and Jack Leg.  Men who take meticulous care of their vehicles at any other time, begin to drive like maniacs to cut off dogs or deer, go through mud holes they know are 6 foot deep and drive down one lane cow trails at a rate of speed to rival Nascar.  Of course, the more fortunate ones just have one truck for hunting and one for all else.   To understand deer hunting, well, I guess you just have to live it. One of my earliest memories with my father is going huntin'.  Some single dads would have just waited until it wasn't their weekend with the children, but my father did not miss one opportunity to hunt on Saturday.  In fact, in the later years, he just took from Thanksgiving until after Christmas off as much as possible so he would be ready 6 days a week-just in case an opportunity arose.  He did not bother with a babysitter but just loaded me in the truck and there we went. I had a book and plenty to munch on.  He kept a bag of oranges, saltine crackers, sardines and Vienna sausages by the case.  I left the sardines alone but happily munched on the rest and enjoyed the day.  There was always someone to talk to and you kept up with the rest of the club by the CB radio and the sound of the dogs in full pursuit.  Believe it or not, there are those who do not hunt anymore but will sit for hours just to hear a "good run" and the bay of the hounds. At the end of the day when dogs and humans are all accounted for, the next job begins.  I believe this may be my daughter's favorite part of a long day-the skinning rack.  The younger generation cleaning the deer and the older generation telling them how they ought to do it-generation after generation a tradition that stands.  The deer they actually killed, the big ones that got away, camaraderie, fun, truth and white lies all come together in the end.  Fortunately for her, my daughter has a father that has never left her behind.  She has been goin' huntin' since she could climb in the truck and appears that she will be going when she can drive it.  He did not wait for the son he wasn't getting but continued to pass down a generation of memories to the child he already had.  Kind of like The Father-He doesn't wait until you're perfect or until you fit the traditional mold.  He will take us as we come and use us as we are, we just have to let Him.

 

God Bless,

Rose Morris

 

Manasssas,Ga