IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE FUN

IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE FUN DAMNIT!

 Of all the things I learned from hunting with my Uncle Earnest I guess the most important thing was that "it's supposed to be fun, damnit."  We had fun.  Oh don't get me wrong we ate what we killed, but it wasn't absolute survival.  We ate it and were durn glad to get it, but we wouldn't have starved without it.  That would have been a completely different situation.  I think a lot of times we forget about the fun part. Everything is so technical with game cameras and computer programs.  I watch these hunting shows on tv where hunters are stressing over the "quallity" of what they were looking at.  Is he a trophy, is a tine broken, how old is he, are his G2s long enough.  I have killed my share of whitetail deer, more than my share probably, and I don't even know what a G2 is.  I like to shoot a buck with big antlers as much as anybody, but I won't stress over it.  I get aggravated watching Michael Waddel and his buddies on tv sometime because I think they get pretty silly.  But those boys know it's still supposed to be fun.  Heck I still laugh over misses and other little catastrophes, if no one gets hurt it's usually funny.  I have been told I dont take my hunting seriously enough, ok, I can live with that.  I'm sure not gonna stress over it.  I had enough of that while I was working for a living.
Uncle Earnest and I had fun!  He made sure of that, of course I did my part too.  I remember walking into the Harper Fish Hole one cold morning.  We walked in most of the time because he didn't want me tearing up my truck and that old road did eat trucks.  He didn't have one.  He drove a parish dump truck home and when he needed something from town he stopped on his way home.  He had a 56 Ford sedan that had less than 20,000 miles on it in the early 70s.  Anyway we were walking in and all the mud holes had ice in them.  He was walking in front of me and I slipped on the ice and busted my rump in that cold water, I broke the ice.  I was sitting in 6" of ice water, holding my shotgun up out of the water.  I couldn't get up, I needed him to take the gun.  He looked around and started laughing so hard he just sat down on the cold ground and hoo-rahed.  I thought he'd never help me up.  He said I sure looked funny sitting there with both hands in the air holding my shotgun while I was up to my waist in water.
I had nature call one morning, I was deer hunting and Earnest was duck hunting.  We were on the creek.  Nature called and I had to take a crap....................BAD.  I had insulated coveralls, blue jeans and long johns on.  I managed to pull the top part of the coveralls through my legs and dropped everything else.  I leaned my rifle against a tree.  Everything was good till a dang deer showed up.  I COULDN'T REACH MY RIFLE!  So I stood up, grabbed the rifle and promptly fell down trying to get a shot.  I got on my knees and tried but no luck.  Yep, you guessed it Earnest saw the whole thing.  There he was rolling on the ground laughing and pointing.  He could have shot the deer, it almost ran over him.  He said he didn't have time he was too busy laughing at me.  
My old 20 guage shot harder than any shotgun I ever saw.  Several times we'd be together and see a squirrel and Uncle Earnest would be trying to slip up on it and just about the time he'd be aiming, I'd shoot the squirrel from behind him.  Oh he'd fuss, and I'd have my time to laugh.  
It was never about a competition, who could kill the most game, it was always about having fun.  We didn't have camo, I was lucky to have blue jeans and a canvas coat.  Those coveralls were brown duck canvas but they were warm. Uncle Earnest had an old shoulder bag my Aunt made him years before out of stripped ticking.  He carried shotgun shells, a big bag of nylon string, aspirins, bandaids, apples, candy bars and all kind of stuff to eat.  I was always amazed at what all he could get in there. He dug another one out of a closet for me.  But mine never was stocked as good as his.  We had a meeting place at an old log where we'd meet up for lunch and when we started out.  We had many a good time on that old log. 

The last few years he couldn't stand the cold as well and our hunts were early in the season.  But if I went into the Harper Fish Hole he was always up with breakfast and hot coffee.  He always had me a lunch and a thermos of coffee to take with me.  And he was always there when I got back to make sure I got out ok.  And to hear about the hunt.  I guess you know I miss him still.
Swamprat