Outdoors: The old hunter

By Rick Reyer

When I was young, it seemed as though it was always the fathers and the grandfathers who taught the next generation to hunt, passing down their knowledge and years of experience. For me, it was my dad, the old hunter, who taught me to hunt deer, goose, grouse, rabbit and squirrel. The old hunter taught and encouraged me, and later my youngest sister.

The memories are precious, etched in my mind. My father and I would spend hours at the shooting range getting ready for deer season, especially as my first season approached. He sat me down at the shooting bench and taught me how to hold the rifle, keeping in mind the distance between the scope and my forehead. One bit of advice was constant: “Don’t take the shot until ready, and know the target.”

But of course, I was just too excited to remember that part about the scope and the forehead when…POW! I shot the target, all right, but the gun’s recoil sent the scope slamming into my forehead, cutting it just enough to feel a light stream of blood flowing down to my nose and dripping onto the shooting bench.

“That’s why we practice,” he said, a smile on his face. “And bring band-aids.”

While sitting next to him in a ground blind we built together in the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest outside of Park Falls, his advice stayed with me. “Don’t take the shot,” I kept hearing in my head. Then, the old hunter pointed to a small buck making his way through the snow. “…Until ready and know the target,” he whispered in my ear. I was ready. I even remembered the scope/forehead thing.

POW! Deer down. And the old hunter beamed.

After that first hunt, we spent countless hours together, walking for miles through the fields and forests in search of the abundant small game found in northern and central Wisconsin, and hunting for deer to harvest. Almost always through the years we brought something back for the freezer or crock pot. It wasn’t until later in my life when I realized that the ultimate goal in our quest wasn’t to bring home a meal, but to develop our relationship as father and son, to strengthen our bond as family.

Of course, hunting is not the only activity to build those relationships. Today, neither of my sons hunt. Our youngest had a fleeting interest, but a full bag of jerky cured that for him on our first day in the woods. Our relationships were and are built differently. Knowing the target is the key.

The old hunter took me on my first hunt. Years later I took him on what was to be his last, yet he is guiding me still when I’m in the woods. 

Now, life is coming full circle. It is I who is the old hunter, looking forward to the day when I will whisper in my grandchildren’s ears. “Don’t take the shot,” I will say. “Until ready…and know the target.

Rick Reyer is a lifelong hunting and fishing enthusiast. He is a retired broadcaster who lives in Wausau.