My brother Terry needed to attend a hunting class since he’s going hunting with his father-in-law, and I took it with him because he didn’t want to take it alone. He and I haven’t gotten along nearly as well lately as we did during the weekend we took that class!
He picked me up very early on both Saturday and Sunday, Saturday so that we could have breakfast together, which we did at the Colorado Café, and Sunday so we could get to the class early and get our shooting on the range out of the way. I seem to be a natural shot, and came very close to the bullseye on my target several times, but Terry wasn’t as good. It took me longer on the range than everybody else though because I was being way too dainty. After you shoot, you’re supposed to load another shot by pulling back on the action. The used shell would flip out so you could load the next one. Well, apparently, I wasn’t pulling back on the action hard enough, so after shooting, the used shell would still be in the chamber, and I was spending time picking it out with my fingers. Terry was joking that I would raise my hand and ask the instructor for tweezers! “Um, Sir…could I possibly have a pair of tweezers? You see, there’s a used shell in here, and it simply won’t come out!”
The guy who taught the class was a tough old bird who had his first name legally changed to "Papa Bear". He reminded me somewhat of the character of Darnell from the movie Christine. He seemed jovial, even a little goofy, but was also very blunt, outspoken, loud, angry, and very passionate when it comes to hunters and their image in the eyes of the public, and has no sympathy for idiotic hunters who help to perpetuate that negative stereotype.
And the stories! For every major point he taught, there was always a long story about somebody that was hurt through stupidity with either firearms or not being prepared. It was a very interesting class, and I learned a lot in two days (I got 98 % on the test, and Terry got 96). I now own a Hunter’s Safety Card that is good for life (and I’ll probably never use it!)
But to take a life, any life! I get squeamish and perhaps a bit revulsed and melancholy even squashing a bug, especially if it’s a big bug! I don’t think I could kill an animal, unless I had to for survival, and even then, I’m not sure. And to clean a slaughtered animal! Neither Terry nor I could do that! It would be like Frasier and Niles going hunting! As it was, this hunting class, and Terry and I in this hunting class, would have made for a hilarious episode of Frasier!
I learned a lot of neat McGiver tricks though! I can now build a portable heater out of a coffee can, a roll of toilet paper, rubbing alcohol, 2 AA batteries, and some quadruple ot steel wool! Terry’s afraid he’s going to get shot when he goes elk hunting. I told him to be careful when picking branches to make a fire, and not to carry two big branches, one in each hand with his arms up. Despite how he treats me sometimes, I still love him, and don’t want to see him dead!
- From my journal, March 1999
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