Hunting with My Father

The blistering heat still lingers, but will soon fade and the brisk, cool days of fall will come to bear. Days where it's just chilly enough to see your breath when you exhale if you really concentrate. You sit in the blind, with your son...each breath deliberate and measured. You're extremely conscious, not wanting to create even the slightest unnecessary sound. Days meant for hunting.As you take in the surroundings of this tranquil autumn day, your mind starts to reflect on the items you have with you. The same items that your father used. Though he is gone, his presence still lingers as you take in the gear you've packed. Somehow he is still here. You look down to your own son, quietly wondering if he'll feel the nostalgia same as you are now. He looks up, smiling. He's just happy to be here with you...hunting the way you did with your father.Your gear is simple. No frills. Just what you need. The same as your father and his father before him. Tradition. It served them both well as each fall they'd stock the freezer with venison, sausage, duck, and even one time, bear.As your mind finds itself pondering the traditions of the past you almost miss the large buck that cautiously crossed the creek and into your view. You look down and see the excitement in your son's eyes. It's difficult for him to remain quiet. He watches your every move, how you breathe, how you hold the rifle, how you gently, smoothly switch the safety off and take aim.Inhale.Exhale.Natural pause.Fire.The buck drops where it stands. This is a memory. He will treasure this long after you're gone. He will teach his son or daughter the same as you teach him. The two of you make your way to the buck. The silent smile says everything.Maybe this is a memory you have, maybe it's a memory you'd like to have. Create and continue your outdoors traditions with Grunt Style's Realtree® collection.