First Hunting Trip With My Son

[zander]

My son, Roman, turned 5 last May. He is a really good son, and with fall in the air and having left him home with mommy to go dove hunting several times already this year, I have been searching for a way to take him hunting for the very first time. A friend from work has a nice sized farm an hour and a half north of here, and he was telling me that his place is over-run by turkeys. He said he can't stand them, and that anytime I wanted I could go out there and get my limit.

I finally decided to take him up on it. At first I was going to go by myself, but I thought maybe this would be the perfect time to take Roman. I asked Roman if he would like to go turkey hunting with me on Saturday and he was very eager to go. We woke up this morning at 4:00 AM. Much to my surprise he got up pretty easy and soon we were on our way. It was very cold this morning, frost and fog everywhere.

My friend had given me pretty good directions to his place. He even drew me a map of where to hunt in the morning for turkeys. Turns out the map was a little off or perhaps just misunderstood. He had warned me that if the cows were not in that part of the field recently then the grass would be kinda high. As I carried my son, our two back-packs with turkey blind and poles, and my 12 gauge through the briars, stick-tights, and hickory saplings I understood my friend's warning. After going for a hundred yards through this frosty pre-dawn jungle I saw the outline of a house up ahead. Then I heard the sound of a truck running. I don't know where I was but I knew I was in the wrong place. By this time my son's feet had started to get wet from the dew/frost and from the saturated soil from the recent deluge. As we finally crossed into the actual field I heard my son say for the first time, "Daddy, let's just go home."

After quickly letting him no that we are not going home, we started through the pasture. First light was about 15 minutes away and the coyotes were doing their we are done for the night sing along. We had gone about 20 yards when I first noticed a smell that was terrifying. I had smelled it only once before and that was in 1995. At that time I had run over the head of a skunk with my truck tire, and being the resourceful hillbilly that I am, I thought it would be a good opportunity to skin it out and make a skunk-skin hat. The smell of skunk fur cannot be described to any degree of accuracy. I can tell you it does not smell good. I can tell you that you can smell it without breathing. You can smell it through your skin. I can tell you that it will make you want to put some distance between you and it. Well this was the same smell. My hillbilly reflexes sprang into action eyes glancing here and there looking for a skunk. I could not see it. I had just started to think to myself, "I hope Roman does not smell this..." when I heard him start to dry-heave. Still carrying my back-pack, turkey blind with poles, 12 gauge shotgun, and holding (more like leading) my son's hand, I tried to push forward. From 3 feet behind me I keep hearing my son gag, cough, and spit. "Can't stop now," I thought. "I have to press on." "Come on Roman," I advised him. "Just a little bit more, let's get away from this smell!"

"I can't....(gag) ....Daddy! (gag) What is that (gag) smell?????" he cried.

Finally the smell of the skunk (smunk) was behind us. I found the spot my friend had told me to hunt and we set up the blind. The pasture had small puddles of ice cold water all over it. We sat down and prepared for the coming turkeys. My son spent his time telling me how much his hands were cold and his feet too. He kept wanting me to wipe his nose, not with any part of anything that had wiped his nose previously this had to be virgin material. As the time passed along my son could no longer stand it. He started crying and boohooing. He just wanted to go home. I realized that I stood no chance of a turkey with that going on. I packed up everything and carried everything and everyone the 1/4 mile back to the truck. We pulled out for home at 8:00AM.

I was mad. He was upset. To add insult to injury I saw 2 nice turkeys on the truck ride down the gravel road towards home. The more I thought about it though, and talked to my son about it, the better I feel. Had I been better prepared for him, he might have lasted a little longer. He wanted to stay hunting, but he was simply in too much pain from the cold to do that. He is 5 years old after all. I am proud of my little guy, who has already promised to go back hunting with me "some other day." This was the first time for both of us in different ways. Let's just hope the second time is soon and filled with more smiles than tears.

[Danoinark]

My son, Roman, turned 5 last May. He is a really good son, and with fall in the air and having left him home with mommy to go dove hunting several times already this year, I have been searching for a way to take him hunting for the very first time. A friend from work has a nice sized farm an hour and a half north of here, and he was telling me that his place is over-run by turkeys. He said he can't stand them, and that anytime I wanted I could go out there and get my limit.

I finally decided to take him up on it. At first I was going to go by myself, but I thought maybe this would be the perfect time to take Roman. I asked Roman if he would like to go turkey hunting with me on Saturday and he was very eager to go. We woke up this morning at 4:00 AM. Much to my surprise he got up pretty easy and soon we were on our way. It was very cold this morning, frost and fog everywhere.

My friend had given me pretty good directions to his place. He even drew me a map of where to hunt in the morning for turkeys. Turns out the map was a little off or perhaps just misunderstood. He had warned me that if the cows were not in that part of the field recently then the grass would be kinda high. As I carried my son, our two back-packs with turkey blind and poles, and my 12 gauge through the briars, stick-tights, and hickory saplings I understood my friend's warning. After going for a hundred yards through this frosty pre-dawn jungle I saw the outline of a house up ahead. Then I heard the sound of a truck running. I don't know where I was but I knew I was in the wrong place. By this time my son's feet had started to get wet from the dew/frost and from the saturated soil from the recent deluge. As we finally crossed into the actual field I heard my son say for the first time, "Daddy, let's just go home."

After quickly letting him no that we are not going home, we started through the pasture. First light was about 15 minutes away and the coyotes were doing their we are done for the night sing along. We had gone about 20 yards when I first noticed a smell that was terrifying. I had smelled it only once before and that was in 1995. At that time I had run over the head of a skunk with my truck tire, and being the resourceful hillbilly that I am, I thought it would be a good opportunity to skin it out and make a skunk-skin hat. The smell of skunk fur cannot be described to any degree of accuracy. I can tell you it does not smell good. I can tell you that you can smell it without breathing. You can smell it through your skin. I can tell you that it will make you want to put some distance between you and it. Well this was the same smell. My hillbilly reflexes sprang into action eyes glancing here and there looking for a skunk. I could not see it. I had just started to think to myself, "I hope Roman does not smell this..." when I heard him start to dry-heave. Still carrying my back-pack, turkey blind with poles, 12 gauge shotgun, and holding (more like leading) my son's hand, I tried to push forward. From 3 feet behind me I keep hearing my son gag, cough, and spit. "Can't stop now," I thought. "I have to press on." "Come on Roman," I advised him. "Just a little bit more, let's get away from this smell!"

"I can't....(gag) ....Daddy! (gag) What is that (gag) smell?????" he cried.

Finally the smell of the skunk (smunk) was behind us. I found the spot my friend had told me to hunt and we set up the blind. The pasture had small puddles of ice cold water all over it. We sat down and prepared for the coming turkeys. My son spent his time telling me how much his hands were cold and his feet too. He kept wanting me to wipe his nose, not with any part of anything that had wiped his nose previously this had to be virgin material. As the time passed along my son could no longer stand it. He started crying and boohooing. He just wanted to go home. I realized that I stood no chance of a turkey with that going on. I packed up everything and carried everything and everyone the 1/4 mile back to the truck. We pulled out for home at 8:00AM.

I was mad. He was upset. To add insult to injury I saw 2 nice turkeys on the truck ride down the gravel road towards home. The more I thought about it though, and talked to my son about it, the better I feel. Had I been better prepared for him, he might have lasted a little longer. He wanted to stay hunting, but he was simply in too much pain from the cold to do that. He is 5 years old after all. I am proud of my little guy, who has already promised to go back hunting with me "some other day." This was the first time for both of us in different ways. Let's just hope the second time is soon and filled with more smiles than tears.

With all that Phillip...I probably would have been begging to leave even before him. Good job.

Dano

[Bird Watcher]

Go easy on em bro, that's a precarious point you are at with him. One more bad trip, who knows? Might be the next Dungeons and Dragons world champ.

Good on you for taking him though, and I'm glad you both had the chance to spend that time together.

Gotta give the kiddos slow pitch, especially when they are young.

Not bragging or looking for kudos, but by my last count I had taken 11 kids hunting when they harvested their first deer and five kids while they harvested their first turkey.

So when I tell you this, it's from experience.

Good luck!

[zander]

yeah, I agree with you. It will be afternoon squirrel hunts for a while I think