How I Learned to Shoot in One Easy Lesson
So, my dad has wanted to be a writer for a long time, but he has been afraid to go for it. This moth he finally decided to enter a writing contest! He wrote a great essay and I sent it in for him. Unfortunately, after we sent it in, we found out the contest is not based on merit, but rather on online votes. I’d like my readers to consider going to vote for dad’s essay. It is very good, and he is quite behind in the votes, even though it is clearly the best entry on the site. Please go here and vote: http://a.pgtb.me/djv698/lnddN?w=51255135&e=145594797
For those who are curious, here is the first part of the essay:
It was 1965, and I was 12 years old. I had taken my hunter safety course, so that I would be able to hunt with a gun for the first time. I had gone hunting with my dad, uncles, and older brothers many times, but until then, my role had been that of a bird dog.
This job was to be performed with no complaints or whining – otherwise, you could ruin your chance of going on the next hunt, and for me that would have been the worst thing that could have happened. It was also just one of the steps a kid had to take in order to graduate to actually carrying a gun on the hunt.
The other chore after the hunt was over was to clean the birds. My older brothers taught me how to clean the birds. They would help if they were around, but by the time I was 12, they were away at college, and more and more the chore fell to me. I don’t recall my father or my uncles ever cleaning a pheasant, and neither do my brothers. It was just expected, and we just did it.
I can’t recall the exact date of my first hunt with a gun, but I know my brother Dick was home from college for the weekend. We didn’t have a place to hunt, so we went road hunting. My dad, Rueben Stahll, my older brother Dick, and I hit the road. …
You can read the rest, and vote for dad here: http://a.pgtb.me/djv698/lnddN?w=51255135&e=145594797