TITLE: Huntig with dad 4/22/15 By olivia gates 04/22/15 |
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Ecclesiastes 3: 1 (KJV) to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
Although I never hunted with my dad in a deer stand, we spent many hours’ running dogs together. My father, Nalda Gilmore and W.D. Perkins leased land from Plum Creek Timber Company for a family hunting lease. Over the years, we had many campsite areas for our camping sites, and each of them were unique and served as a regular gathering area.
Early morning would bring everyone to the camp area for instructions as to where we would run our dogs, this day.
My dad would in the off-season run his little beagles at least three nights a week. This was done to keep the dogs in shape and to give some idea as to where the deer were.
Upon gathering up, we would all gather around the campfire and discuss the best place to run. Dad would then decide on the plot of land to be run. Each man would say where he was going. W.D. always loved what he called the Mary Jane crossing, a place in a large curve where he sat and ate Mary Janes while waiting for dogs to jump a deer. Some would go to John Haines road and others to the Iron Gate. John Haines was a past member who had a stand on John Haines road. The Iron Gate was latterly an iron gate that was locked to protect others from going on to another lease.
After everyone had left my dad would call me over to him and say,” Go to the second light pole on Frank Wink road. Stand in the woods on the opposite side of the road from the light pole. “Yes Sir” I always did what he said. Upon arriving at the second light pole, I walked up and down the road to determine just where the deer were crossing. Finding fresh tracks in the road, gave me hope. I leaned up against a pine tree on the opposite side of the road and waited. I could here my father encouraging his little band of beagles as they searched the woods for a deer. Dad would say, “Go get them Susie, hunt them up Eagle, that a boy trouble.” Then when Annie struck, Dad would scream like a wild woman and the race would be on. W.D. would call on the radio and say “Hot Pursuit Baby, were in Hot Pursuit. As I stood there waiting, I could here the deer jumping over brush and breaking limbs. I raised my gun and looked up and down the road next to the second light pole. Then like magic, one of them would stick his head out of bush. Then three of them would burst out on to the road. I fired at all three and missed them all. I passed them on to the next stander, but they were running at a much faster speed when they came by me. The next stander killed at least one of them, and I was happy for them.
Dad always gave me the heads up before each run. The men began to say that they wanted to be where I was. It was known around camp that I could not hit a deer, but I always got the best shots.
When the days hunt was over and Dad had some dogs out, I always helped him hunt for his dogs. Sometimes he would go back late at night to find his little lost bunch. He always came home with them and was ready to go again in the morning.
In 2005, my father went to be with the Lord. The year 2006 was the hardest hunting season of my life. For some ten years, I had hunted with my dad.
Ecclesiastes 3:4 a time to weep and a time to laugh: a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
I cherish all the things that my dad taught me about hunting. I have passed them on to my grandchildren, who are now members of Deer Track Beagle Hunting Club.
PS (Pearls in my stand)
Appreciate the knowledge of the older generation. Love those around you who are willing to sacrifice for your well-being. Pass on what others have shared with you.
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