Happy New Year and Squirrel Hunting
The beginning is just beginning. A New Year! A New Hope! Life Anew! I want to be more personal in my Blog Life; make it more about me, my thoughts and my experiences. I know that my life has been interesting, interesting even to other people. I think I could write a book. I may rewrite what I previously lost. That was Vietnam-specific. This will reach deeper into my past. Include my “people of interest.”
Watching a PBS program on writing convinced me that the most interesting people I would ever meet were those people who shaped my thinking in my childhood. I will record my experiences in my blog, then try to organize the random thoughts into what might become memoirs … the story of my life.
At first, that seems very egotistical. It may be. That’s okay. I’m writing this to me, hoping that my daughter and grandson will find it interesting; something to pass on in their memoirs. My legacy. If George Bush can have a legacy, why can’t I?
I can’t ignore that photography is my passion. I’m proud of my accomplishments. I also enjoy sharing more recent records of places and things we see. Of course, the personal history will be interspersed with current events, pretty pictures and interesting travels. That has already started. Jane and I are in Maryland. After spending the Holiday Season with our daughter and grandson, we are planning a diversion from our homeward trip. We’re touring the Atlantic Coast. Leaving here on January 2, our first stop will be Kitty Hawk, NC. We will visit there and take in the lighthouses and wildlife along the Cape Hatteras National Seashore; cross Pamlico Sound via ferry; take in the deep-south culture of Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA; then beat feet across the Southeast in route to Tow. We expect to reach home before January 9.
The Squirrel Hunt (a memory of my past)
My dad let me start hunting when I was ten, I think. I may have been twelve? We had bird dogs. Quail hunting was our primary focus. But, as with most young country boys, I wanted to spend my life in the fields and forests, hunting anything that was legal. Squirrel season preceded our quail season by a month. When I was fourteen or fifteen (I was old enough to go hunting on my own) I remember wanting to hunt squirrels on opening day. I asked dad to go with me but he said, “Nah. It’s too windy.” I thought, “How silly can you be?” Like Mark Twain’s, my dad didn’t get very smart until I got a little older.
Opening day was on a weekend. I was up early and in the woods before daylight. The wind was blowing fairly hard. I watched and listened as leaves rustled and limbs swayed in the breeze. I heard squirrels barking. I could hear them cutting and even saw hickory nuts hitting the ground. But I never saw a squirrel. By mid-morning I was bored. What my dad had said about the wind never entered my mind. When I got home dad smiled and said, “Did you get your limit.” Defensively, I said, “Nah, they weren’t moving.”
This seemingly insignificant remembrance was prompted by thoughts of a discussion with my grandson. I do a lot of thinking when I drive. We spent three full days driving from Tow to DC. That’s a lot of thinking. For whatever reason, I thought about a war story I had shared with my grandson. The subject was night vision. I was telling him about keeping one eye closed when flares illuminate the night. That allows you to maintain your night vision in one eye while searching the illuminated battlefield for targets with the other. When the flares go out, you still can see with the eye that was protected from the light.
We talked about seeing in the darkness. Identifying an object is difficult when looking at it directly. If you look slightly left or right peripheral vision more easily detects any motion. Motion will always get your attention. Dillon (my grandson) tried this and was impressed to find it true.
It was while thinking about our conversation that it hit me. My dad had told me that all those many years ago. You don’t see the squirrel. You see the motion. On a windy day, everything is in motion. I’m 68 years old. It took me about 55 years to figure out how dense I am. Dad knew damned good and well that I had not killed any squirrels. Like Mark Twain’s dad, my dad learned a lot between my thirteenth and twenty-first birthdays. :)
My grandson is fifteen. His mother is in that 13 to 21 age group. He was complaining to me about the silly rules she enforces; rules like homework, studying, bathing, going to bed, etc. Grownups are just too old to understand the modern world. After hearing him imply as much to his mother, I told him the story about hunting squirrels in the wind. Now, when I say to him, “Don’t hunt squirrels on a windy day,” he gets the point. But, he still gives me reason to say it frequently. I hope it doesn’t take 55 years for his mom to get smart. :)
Have a Happy New Year and don't Hunt Squirrels in the Wind.
l8r
Watching a PBS program on writing convinced me that the most interesting people I would ever meet were those people who shaped my thinking in my childhood. I will record my experiences in my blog, then try to organize the random thoughts into what might become memoirs … the story of my life.
At first, that seems very egotistical. It may be. That’s okay. I’m writing this to me, hoping that my daughter and grandson will find it interesting; something to pass on in their memoirs. My legacy. If George Bush can have a legacy, why can’t I?
I can’t ignore that photography is my passion. I’m proud of my accomplishments. I also enjoy sharing more recent records of places and things we see. Of course, the personal history will be interspersed with current events, pretty pictures and interesting travels. That has already started. Jane and I are in Maryland. After spending the Holiday Season with our daughter and grandson, we are planning a diversion from our homeward trip. We’re touring the Atlantic Coast. Leaving here on January 2, our first stop will be Kitty Hawk, NC. We will visit there and take in the lighthouses and wildlife along the Cape Hatteras National Seashore; cross Pamlico Sound via ferry; take in the deep-south culture of Charleston, SC and Savannah, GA; then beat feet across the Southeast in route to Tow. We expect to reach home before January 9.
The Squirrel Hunt (a memory of my past)
My dad let me start hunting when I was ten, I think. I may have been twelve? We had bird dogs. Quail hunting was our primary focus. But, as with most young country boys, I wanted to spend my life in the fields and forests, hunting anything that was legal. Squirrel season preceded our quail season by a month. When I was fourteen or fifteen (I was old enough to go hunting on my own) I remember wanting to hunt squirrels on opening day. I asked dad to go with me but he said, “Nah. It’s too windy.” I thought, “How silly can you be?” Like Mark Twain’s, my dad didn’t get very smart until I got a little older.
Opening day was on a weekend. I was up early and in the woods before daylight. The wind was blowing fairly hard. I watched and listened as leaves rustled and limbs swayed in the breeze. I heard squirrels barking. I could hear them cutting and even saw hickory nuts hitting the ground. But I never saw a squirrel. By mid-morning I was bored. What my dad had said about the wind never entered my mind. When I got home dad smiled and said, “Did you get your limit.” Defensively, I said, “Nah, they weren’t moving.”
This seemingly insignificant remembrance was prompted by thoughts of a discussion with my grandson. I do a lot of thinking when I drive. We spent three full days driving from Tow to DC. That’s a lot of thinking. For whatever reason, I thought about a war story I had shared with my grandson. The subject was night vision. I was telling him about keeping one eye closed when flares illuminate the night. That allows you to maintain your night vision in one eye while searching the illuminated battlefield for targets with the other. When the flares go out, you still can see with the eye that was protected from the light.
We talked about seeing in the darkness. Identifying an object is difficult when looking at it directly. If you look slightly left or right peripheral vision more easily detects any motion. Motion will always get your attention. Dillon (my grandson) tried this and was impressed to find it true.
It was while thinking about our conversation that it hit me. My dad had told me that all those many years ago. You don’t see the squirrel. You see the motion. On a windy day, everything is in motion. I’m 68 years old. It took me about 55 years to figure out how dense I am. Dad knew damned good and well that I had not killed any squirrels. Like Mark Twain’s dad, my dad learned a lot between my thirteenth and twenty-first birthdays. :)
My grandson is fifteen. His mother is in that 13 to 21 age group. He was complaining to me about the silly rules she enforces; rules like homework, studying, bathing, going to bed, etc. Grownups are just too old to understand the modern world. After hearing him imply as much to his mother, I told him the story about hunting squirrels in the wind. Now, when I say to him, “Don’t hunt squirrels on a windy day,” he gets the point. But, he still gives me reason to say it frequently. I hope it doesn’t take 55 years for his mom to get smart. :)
Have a Happy New Year and don't Hunt Squirrels in the Wind.
l8r
posted by Warren, Dad, Papa at 9:45 AM
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