Hunting Heritage
April 26, 2008 - 6:03pm — JYork
Pennsylvania's spring gobbler season opened today. I left my house at 4:40 a.m. and by 5:15 a.m. I was sitting beside a tree at the foot of Tussey Mountain waiting for daybreak. Come to think of it, I have performed this spring ritual every year for more than 30 years. I don't even like the taste of wild turkey!
I have hunted all of my life. My Dad would take me groundhog hunting as a small child. When Dad went anywhere I wanted to go with him. Getting out of the house was a daily goal for all children in the 1950's. We had a small black and white television that got one, snowy channel. Why would any kid want to stay in the house?
For me, hunting became "real" when I began sneaking into the woods with older friends to shoot squirrels with a 22 rifle when I was ten. Two years later in 1961, I got my first license, and I have purchased a license annually since with exception of 1970 when I was in Vietnam.
When I was young, our family ate wild game so hunting was serious business. You did not waste "shells" by taking bad shots. You cleaned whatever you killed. The entire family appreciated a hunter returning home after a successful day in the woods. Deer season filled the freezer with venison. Life was good and hunting served a purpose.
I cannot escape my desire to hunt or the sense of satisfaction I get from a successful hunt. My hunting pleasure has broadened to include the sheer joy of being outdoors and a love for all things wild.
Yes today, I snapped to attention when the alarm sounded at 3:45 a.m. I drank my coffee, gathered my gear and shotgun, kissed my wife goodbye, and strolled out of the house on a mission.
At 6:30 a.m., my mission was accomplished.
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