Meals from Nature
“Hunting as a family is by no means a new tradition. In fact, it used to be one of several traditional American family values(Staff).” Hunting is a normal, almost expected hobby of individuals from the South. Fathers will bring their sons, daughters, and wives along to a large plot of land and appreciate the beauty of the trees and the woodland creatures they’ve immersed themselves in. Equipped with either a bow or a rifle they wait for a mature, healthy buck to walk out into the open. You never shoot a Mama deer or a baby deer, mama’s produce more bucks and you never want to kill a baby because it has some maturing and growing to do, and because that’s just plain wrong. My father always took me with him on hunting trips …show more content…
My Dad would always remind me that the “birds and the deer are still sleeping” to keep me from accidentally screaming as I see basically anything with color move. We’d drive up to a little shrub and he’d ever so quietly park the jeep. We never wanted to drive the car right up to the blind, the engine roaring, twigs snapping underneath the 35’s, and me, squeaking after every bump that shot me a little bit out of my seat, would have probably scared anything with ears in a fifty mile radius away. So with the jeep parked, my Pops grabbed his bow, allowing me the incredible pleasure of carrying not one, not two, but three whole arrows while we walked to the blind through the mud. Little did I know then that the arrows had the pointy part cut off so they weren’t actually usable, but man did I feel important carrying my Daddy’s arrows for him. We’d get to the blind, and sit. We had two kinds of chairs in our blinds, ones that resembled old bar stools with circular leather seat pad, a tear here or there revealing the cream colored fuzz underneath, and old camouflage camping chairs, when my Dad was alone he’d sit on one of the old bar stools, he’d sawed parts of the legs off to make them shorter so he could see through the window and fake foliage he’d covered the wooden blind in. We’d sit there for hours, I’d …show more content…
It instilled tradition and an appreciation for the life and nature around me. It strengthened the bond between my Father, brother, and I, and showed me that good things are always worth the wait. Raised Hunting say that “by starting these activities while your kids are young, they can develop unique lifelong skills that they’ll appreciate forever.” I believe that my family is a prime example of this. We know how to use guns, we learned patience at an early age and we learned the value and the cycle of life. The meals this hobby provided for my family are ones I’ll never forget. The memories of the hours of sitting in a blind, either drawing in the dirt, trying to harmonize with the birds, and sitting in my Father’s lap while he let me try and pull back the strong strings of his bow will always be stirred up by the taste of deer meat spaghetti. We earned those meals, we put in hours of work and were patient for weeks and finally after Lord knows how many hunting trips we’d leave with dinner for my family for months. Although the meals were just something my Dad whipped up on a whim, the time I got to spend with him and the effort we put into those meals will be the memories I’ll never
“Hunting as a family is by no means a new tradition. In fact, it used to be one of several traditional American family values(Staff).” Hunting is a normal, almost expected hobby of individuals from the South. Fathers will bring their sons, daughters, and wives along to a large plot of land and appreciate the beauty of the trees and the woodland creatures they’ve immersed themselves in. Equipped with either a bow or a rifle they wait for a mature, healthy buck to walk out into the open. You never shoot a Mama deer or a baby deer, mama’s produce more bucks and you never want to kill a baby because it has some maturing and growing to do, and because that’s just plain wrong. My father always took me with him on hunting trips …show more content…
My Dad would always remind me that the “birds and the deer are still sleeping” to keep me from accidentally screaming as I see basically anything with color move. We’d drive up to a little shrub and he’d ever so quietly park the jeep. We never wanted to drive the car right up to the blind, the engine roaring, twigs snapping underneath the 35’s, and me, squeaking after every bump that shot me a little bit out of my seat, would have probably scared anything with ears in a fifty mile radius away. So with the jeep parked, my Pops grabbed his bow, allowing me the incredible pleasure of carrying not one, not two, but three whole arrows while we walked to the blind through the mud. Little did I know then that the arrows had the pointy part cut off so they weren’t actually usable, but man did I feel important carrying my Daddy’s arrows for him. We’d get to the blind, and sit. We had two kinds of chairs in our blinds, ones that resembled old bar stools with circular leather seat pad, a tear here or there revealing the cream colored fuzz underneath, and old camouflage camping chairs, when my Dad was alone he’d sit on one of the old bar stools, he’d sawed parts of the legs off to make them shorter so he could see through the window and fake foliage he’d covered the wooden blind in. We’d sit there for hours, I’d …show more content…
It instilled tradition and an appreciation for the life and nature around me. It strengthened the bond between my Father, brother, and I, and showed me that good things are always worth the wait. Raised Hunting say that “by starting these activities while your kids are young, they can develop unique lifelong skills that they’ll appreciate forever.” I believe that my family is a prime example of this. We know how to use guns, we learned patience at an early age and we learned the value and the cycle of life. The meals this hobby provided for my family are ones I’ll never forget. The memories of the hours of sitting in a blind, either drawing in the dirt, trying to harmonize with the birds, and sitting in my Father’s lap while he let me try and pull back the strong strings of his bow will always be stirred up by the taste of deer meat spaghetti. We earned those meals, we put in hours of work and were patient for weeks and finally after Lord knows how many hunting trips we’d leave with dinner for my family for months. Although the meals were just something my Dad whipped up on a whim, the time I got to spend with him and the effort we put into those meals will be the memories I’ll never