Two years ago, my wife and I were blessed with a beautiful baby girl and boy...twins. What has amazed me is the fact that being a boy and girl is just born in them. When they eat, she is dainty...he shovels eveything in his face. When they want something, she is polite and he screams. When they go somewhere, she walks...he runs. He is a daredevil...she thinks it out. It truely is amazing and as such, I cut my boy a little slack..."boys will be boys".
So last night I called my best friend from high school, Chuck. We have kept in touch over the years with a phone call every several months or so and it seems like we just pick up the conversation like it was back in the day. I hung up the phone and got to thinking about all the hunting expeditions we've been on together since middle school. One kept making me think how lucky we were and also explains how "boys will be boys".
We were sophomores and hunted together ever Sat. This day was no different as we wanted to hunt pheasants, but also see if we couldn't pick up some grouse and partridge. So we headed south of town to the government pasture towards the Badlands. This is a full day trip which meant a lot of driving and road "hunting". You have to remember we were punk kids...walking a bunch wasn't something we looked forward to. Pick off the easy ones and only walk when necessary was our philosophy. "When necessary" is defined as "the time when you haven't filled your tag and almost home".
So we get on top of the pasture and you're really in the middle of nowhere. The snow on the ground is relatively light, however the pasture trails are covered. We're basically just driving into unchartered territory. I had hunted the general area with my father a few times, but this wasn't somewhere we went every day because dad believed in hunting. Hunting being defined as "walking to flush and kill pheasants, grouse and partridge". This meant you never needed to drive very far away from home. So the area is familiar, but there's nothing but snow and peaks and valleys. Not lost, but not knowing exactly where we were.
As we're driving along, we kick a coyote out of a draw and the chase is on. I was driving a Ford Ranger stick and dropped down a gear to try and get ahead of him. So we're in a open field, no road, snow on the ground, going about sixty, chasing a coyote when we have one of those "OH SH*T" moments. In fact, I think Chuck actually said "oh sh*t". The precise moment came when we got to the bottom of the hill and realized we were about to hit a "wash-out". I don't remeber the actually impact, but recall the after affects vividly.
Chuck was wearing a beanie and it protected him from the glass as his head "spidered" the windshield. I fealt like I had a couple broken ribs from the now bent stearing wheel. The tires looked the ones from the movie "Vacation" after Chevy Chase jumped the car "fifty feet"...and nothing in sight, not even the coyote. Thank god the truck still ran as we just turned around and followed our trail back out the way we came. Windows down to see where we were going...the stearing wheel looking like we were taking a hard left, but going straight...only going about forty...and thinking dad was going to kill me.
Well, we made it home and dad didn't kill me...I think it's because "boys will be boys". Chuck and I definitely took the phrase to extremes over the years, but I think it will make me a better dad. I know about how much slack I'll give my sons (3) before I reel them in and since Chuck and I got into about everything, they won't get away with much. For the most part, I'll just shake my head, look at my wife and say "boys will be boys".
Don't forget to register here for the Free Archery Whitetail and Pheasant Hunt