“I Missed! How could I miss such an easy shot?” the boy thought, as he fumbled for another shell. After a quick reload, the shotgun rose as if by instinct and he fired again. Success at last!!! After years of joining the family, watching the others hunt, fetching their birds, shooting bugs with a BB gun, and longing to take part, success struck! He had his first kill!
It was a nice late fall evening in South Texas. The air had a hint of winter chill creeping in, but mostly the air smelled of dust, crushed dove weed, and cow manure. The sun was still hanging well above the horizon, but the shadows were lengthening and the warmth was starting to fade. A few hours earlier the boy’s parents had picked him up from school, taking him out at lunch. The small town principal was familiar with the routines of country life and just nodded knowingly, probably wishing she could join them.
The shotgun in his hands was not new. In fact it was the well used single shot .410 his older brother had been given a few years previously. Loaned grudgingly for this trip, it took the parent’s offer of a 20 gauge, a real shotgun, to sweeten the deal enough. Surely this would be the day. Several previous trips using a borrowed bolt action .410, that no one could ever seem to hit with, had yielded nothing but frustration. Since he had witnessed his brother hit a running quail the previous year, the boy knew this gun would make the difference!
Dad made sure the boy was familiar with its operation by keeping him close by his side all afternoon. As boys are known to do, he chafed at the close supervision. Finally Dad told him, “Why don’t you head over to that brush pile and head off those birds that keep flying around us.” Even though it was only 10 yards away, it seems like a mile. He was out on his own, dove hunting!
The initial flurry of birds from their drive in had died down, and now the evening wait was in full force. It would be a while before the doves begin to fly to the water hole behind them for their nightcap. After furiously scanning the sky for what seemed like hours…there it was! A hint of movement in the corner of his vision! But wait, something was all wrong…the movement was too low. It was in the brush pile!
All the time looking at books of wildlife kicked in. With the instincts of a seasoned outdoorsman that belied his tender 10 years, he homed in on the movement. The wide head stuck out first, triangular and flat, then the long slender body. Without even realizing it, his vision scanned the whole thing until his gaze rested on the tail. “Daddy, there’s a rattlesnake over here. Can I shoot it?” Could that have been his calm voice? With the instant rush of adrenaline, Dad made it to the brush pile in what seems like one single leap. The snake was safely far away, and crawling on a parallel course. While not an immediate threat, it was too close and the brush pile was too good of a spot to abandon. After some consultation, the boy was given the go ahead to shoot it. “Aim for the head son,” was Dad’s only advice. BOOM! Over slightly ringing ears, the boy could see the snake crawling on, barely flinching at the shot. Luckily there were more shells in his pocket.
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