October 1, 2010

Sharing

Written by: Doug Herron, PE Teacher, Bartlett High School

Every fall it is a tradition in our family to go moose hunting. This has been a tradition since I can remember. Fall time for my family was about hunting and gathering and sharing what we found with family and friends.

It was fall time and I was 12 years old. I had been anxiously awaiting the beginning of moose season and getting to go on my first “real” moose hunt where for the first time, I was going to an area where there was a very good chance we would find moose, but more importantly, I was going as a hunter, not a trainee. I had been practicing my hunting skills for years now and worked diligently on my marksmanship and gun safety and was finally ready to put it all to the test.

My father and I traveled many miles up river and made our camp. We glassed for hours each evening and motored up river in the mornings floating back down to camp looking for moose. It was towards the end of our hunt that I was losing hope. I had been counting down this hunt for three years and couldn’t wait to get my first moose. It was a right of passage. We decided to break camp and move downriver. The plan was to break camp before dark and then float a section of river my father knew held moose in the past. I was getting excited again. As we floated, I began to fall asleep.

The only thing I remember after that was getting a tap on my shoulder from my father and him saying to me, “Moose on the river”. I quickly woke up from my deep slumber, rubbed my eyes and couldn’t believe it. Just like my father had told me, “Be patient and quiet and we will find a moose on the river”.

There stood a bull moose, about 100 yards on the other side of the river just standing there trying to figure out what we were. It wasn’t long after that, that I remember standing over my very first moose and thinking to myself that I had finally done it. I will be bringing moose home for my family. I was very proud. We took care of the meat and headed back to the cabin. I couldn’t wait to tell my mom, who was anxiously waiting for the news. My mom had grown accustomed to me bringing home fish and small game just about every time that I went out. I knew that she would be proud. I was equally excited to be eating moose steaks from my very first moose.

Upon returning home, I was welcomed back by my mother who was very excited and proud of me. She was so happy that I had my first moose. We hung the meat and I was sharing my stories with my family. It was soon after that when my mom told me what I was supposed to do. Keep in mind that this was my first moose and I was so excited to be eating meat from my first hunt. And very proud that I was now a hunter. She informed me that she had already called many family members, elders and others who were unable to hunt themselves that I had brought home a moose and that I would be sharing it with them all. Where my mom came from it was a tradition to share ALL of your first animal with family and friends and especially with those who were less fortunate. She also told me that it would bring good luck to me and my family in the future.

In the best way that I could at 12 years old, I reluctantly agreed and it wasn’t long after when my mom shared with me how happy those who enjoyed the fresh meat were that I realized that sharing and providing moose for others had made me very proud. I have been fortunate throughout my years to enjoy many successful hunts and I attribute that to sharing my very first moose and many more after that.