By Russell A. Graves

It’s funny.  No matter how much my brother and I hunt together, each time is always more fun than before.  You would think that it would get old after a while but somehow, that seems impossible...

When I was in seventh grade, Bubba left for the United States Army.  Two wars and 21 years later, he is now retired.  Through all those years hunting was the bond that kept us close when Uncle Sam was unable.  Even after his retirement, 250 miles still separate us but whenever we can, we hunt.

Early in the 2006 season, Bubba and I decide that a hunt is in order.  He makes the trip to Childress and we rendezvous at Childress High School.  My students have heard a lot about him and instinctively, although some have never met him, they call him Bubba..

We talk for a bit and soon school is over.  We head to my house and change into our hunting attire.  Usually, we hunt turkeys with shotguns but in the spirit of adventure, Bubba decides to hunt with a longbow.  His weapon of choice is no more than a stick bow but he is an adept outdoorsman who is handy with the traditional archery equipment.  The easy part may be the shot.  The hard part is finding turkeys.

Our time afield is always special.  Time slows down and even seems to reverse when we are together.  I owe a lot to him.  He gave me my first camera and even more noteworthy, he was more than willing to lay down his life as a fighting infantryman in the United States Army 101st Airborne Division - it is a thought that I don’t take lightly. 

 

It is amazing that we see anything when we hunt together.  We talk so much it is a wonder the animals don’t spook.  It always seems that God takes care of us though.  Somehow we are always in the right spot for him a shot and me to take a photograph.

 

When the quiet time comes, if I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough, it is like we are boys again roaming the blacklands of our youth.  Our only concern is living for the moment… and waiting for turkeys.

We set up where we think turkeys will be and we wait.  A few calls and a few jokes later the turkeys come - they are with hens but the gobble at the call nonetheless.

It happens so fast, it is over in an instant.  An errant tom, a well placed arrow, and Bubba does what I secretly think is near impossible - he takes a ultra-wary tom from a makeshift ground blind with a longbow.  It is his first with a longbow and I am as excited as he is to be a part of the experience.

Some say that hunting is unnecessary and barbaric.  That point is somehow lost on someone who has seen foreign governments responsible for barbarism  in places like Iraq and Afghanistan. 

 

One turkey…  This one turkey feeds his family for a meal or two.  While one turkey succumbs to the arrow a dozen or so more slip away into the mesquite brush to live another season.   

Back at my house we talk about the hunt.  Each hunt is more fun than the last and for a moment, we are the only two in the world and I am thirteen again.