The year was 1980 and I was sixteen years old. We had recently moved to the Spanaway Washington area where my dad had taken the pastoral position at one of the Friends churches. As with the other moves that we had made in the past, it didn’t take our family long to get acquainted with other families in the church and community. But there was one family that I was especially happy that we were getting to know. There really wasn’t anything super special about them as far as families go. But the one thing that separated them from the others was that the father was an outdoors man, spending plenty of time with his two boys, hunting and fishing.

It wasn’t long before my dad and I were invited to join them on a one day hunt. I would like to be able find the words to describe the level of excitement that I was experiencing, but there simply aren’t enough words in the thesaurus to truly capture those emotions. Now you might be saying,

“Now come on, every one that likes hunting or fishing has been excited like that before.”

But let me explain why this trip meant so much to me. You see, I spent the first eight years of my life in Northern Idaho in a tiny community called “Woodland.” This little speck on the map was about fifteen miles from the nearest town, the average trip to town taking nearly forty-five minutes because the road was nothing more than an old logging road.

I can’t tell you the actual miles between my house and our neighbors, but I can say that I could only see one building from my back porch. The other neighbors usually meant a car ride or at least a long bicycle ride.

I remember my dad loading my brothers and I in his truck and heading toward the Lo-Lo river, where we would fish all day and then camp in the back of the truck; nothing between us and the stars but a few blankets. I can still feel the excitement that I experienced back then; not so patiently waiting on my dad to get home from work. Thinking of nothing but being on that river. Those are memories that I hope never fades.

But when it came time to go hunting, I just wasn’t old enough. But I knew that it was something that I wanted to do very badly. So instead of carrying a deer rifle into the woods with my dad and oldest brother, I usually took my b-b gun and hunted those dangerous animals of flight. As I crept up on a bird or squirrel, I usually fantasized that it was a big ole mule deer or maybe even an elk. I tried to imagine what it would be like to site in on one of those animals, just like my brother and dad had done.

There are several experiences that I remember. But the one that I remember the best was the year that my dad and my oldest brother took down a huge Elk. They had been hunting that morning and because of an incredible snow fall, they were walking home. They were no further than a couple hundred yards from the house when they saw the Elk. A few shots were heard, before the middle brother ran into the house telling us that they had shot something. In just a matter of minutes I had pulled my boots on and tugged on my coat as I headed out the door. As I stood over the animal, all I could think about was that it was unbelievably huge.

I was almost nine when we moved away from there. To be honest I was surprised by the changes that we would experience. We went from living in an area that you could shoot game from within just a few feet from our house, to living very close to a small city. So with a combination of the area we were now living and my dad working two jobs, the hunting crawled to a stop.

This was not as devastating a change as you might think. I was nearly nine years old and was having a blast making new friends and experiencing new adventures. I guess you could say that I was temporarily distracted; that is if you can call nearly eight years temporary.

So there we were, living in Washington state and getting ready to go on my first ever deer hunt. But there was something even more special than that. As I watched my dad and Mr. Conroy talk of the upcoming trip, I saw a spark in my dad’s eye that I hadn’t seen in a very long time.

We met the Conroy’s early the morning of the hunt and drove deep into the Washington wilderness. I can still remember the truck climbing the steep hill, and just as it reached the top, a very nice buck trotted across the road, its antlers shining in the trucks headlights. I believe that my heart rate tripled at that moment. I wanted them to stop the truck right then and let me out. In my mind, I thought that I could wait right there until day break and then take the deer. But I now realize that the deer would have been long gone before there was nearly enough shooting light. We finally arrived at out hunting spot and climbed from the truck. My dad and I went one way and the Conroys went another.

I can honestly say that at that moment, I was the happiest that I had ever been. But the thrill was soon squashed. I don’t remember what happened exactly. I just remember the other family having some issues and we had to leave. When I heard the news, it felt like I had just been sucker punched. The ride home was quiet and filled with disappointment.

Several weeks past and I kept pestering my dad to go hunting again. I guess that I was determined enough, because he did agree to go. So we headed back into the woods. We found a promising hunting spot and started hiking in. It wasn’t long before we found some fresh tracks and started to follow them. Maybe an hour or so later we arrived at a popular watering hole. The ground was so eroded from the heavy traffic that it looked like maybe a hundred dear stopped there at once.

We moved up the ridge a good distance and settled in to wait. At first the excitement was over whelming. But as time slowly passed, I realized that I was just a little tired. The thoughts running through my mind were that the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other. The Devil telling me that it was okay to take a little nap while the angel was telling me not to mess up a perfect chance. Well, the Devil won. I woke up, startled for some reason, only to see that my dad must have been pretty tired as well.

Once we were both awake and realized what time it was, my dad said that it was time to get back to the truck. We had a pretty good hike ahead of us and we didn’t want to be on the trail after nightfall. Once back at the truck, we ate a sandwich and went to work preparing the bed of the truck for sleeping. After draping the large heavy tarp over the cattle rails, we climbed into the bed of the truck and into our sleeping bags. We spent some time talking about the tracks that we had seen and about where the deer might have gone before the sound of rain tapping against the canvas caused some concern.

We had hoped that we would not have to deal with a rainy night, but anyone that has ever spent time in Washington State, knows that is a foolish wish. As the rain fell harder, we couldn’t help but realize that the tarp was far from water proof. It was actually in such poor shape that if it had been a clear night, we could have counted stars. In a mad dash, my dad and I climbed from the bed of the truck and out into the rain; doing our best to keep our sleeping bags dry as we climbed into the cab of the truck.

Once there, we somehow managed the nearly impossible task of getting into our sleeping bags while remaining in the seated position, we couldn’t help but chuckle. I don’t remember how long that night actually lasted, but I fully expected to step out of the truck the next morning with a full beard, and I wasn’t even shaving full time yet.

Thankfully, the next morning did come. The sun did its best, but failed to completely push its way past the clouds and fog. After stretching our very stiff and aching muscles, we decided that I would go out a few hundred yards and hunt for a little while my dad prepared the truck for travel. I hated the fact that we would have to leave, but I understood that my dad had work and I had school the next day.

So I waded out through the chest high grass until I found a fat stump. I climbed on top of it and searched the area for any movement. I realized that the chances were slim, but there was still hope. But after only a few minutes, I saw that my dad had the truck ready. I know that I could have stayed there longer and he would have waited patiently. But I knew that we had experienced a rough night and that it would be best if we went ahead and headed out. Now you might think that this was a disappointing hunting experience. But it was quite the opposite. I was finally able to experience what I had dreamt about. No, it wasn’t the perfect dream, but is was awesome just the same. I got to hunting with my dad.