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The Honor and Glory of Hunting I—Luke
- University of South Carolina Press
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49 The Honor and Glory of Hunting I—Luke 1961 Johnny Chapman Mymotherhadthreeboys.Myfatherusedtosaythatw ewereas differentasnight,day,andthensomethingthatresembledneither nightnorday.Heneverbotheredtotelluswhichoneofuswasnightand whichwasdayandwhichoneneitherone,butIthinkIkno w.Iwasthe middleone,andIwasnothinglikeeitheroneofmybrothersormyfather. Itookaftermother—quiet,shy,toopatientformyowngood.Iwasneither nightnorday—justsomethingnobodycouldexplain. MybrotherLarriewasag oodbitolderthanmeandw ildasadamn buck,sortoflikemydaddy.Hewasat oughguy—playedfootball,caroused withallofthosehighschooltoughs,alwaysmakingsurethatwe allknewwhowasboss.WentofftoVietnamwhenIwasstillinmyjunior highschool,cameba ckmadderthanhe ll.AndthentherewasEl vin,a goodbityoungerthanme.HegotoutofDodgeprettyfastandmo ved toAlabama—downaroundMobile.Stillthere.Hedon’tvisitorcallvery often. Wewereallthreehuntersjustlikemyfatherandanumberofourother relatives,includingUncleEddie,thepreacher-farmer.Iguessmaybeitwas inourblood.Butgiventhedifferenceinages—wewereallthreeatleast sevenoreightyearsapart—wewoundupd oingitp rettymuchonour TheHonorandGloryofHuntingI—Luke 50 own.Daddywasanexcellentshotandaprofoundlygoodbirdhunter,but hispatiencehaditslimits.He’dtakeyououtandshowyouhowtoshoot andall,buthewasnotinterestedinteachingyouthemarksmanshipskills necessarytobeabirdhunter.Hedidn’thaveenoughpatienceforthat.I guesshefeltthatyoushouldlearnthatjustthewayhedid:onyourown. SobythetimeIgotmy firstgun,anoldscratched-up,hand-me-down .410,DadandLar rieweregoingbirdhuntingandlea vingmeatho me becauseIwastooyoung,madetoomuchnoise,couldn’thitthesideofa barn—wellyouknowhowthatgoes.Thatjustleftmewithnothingbut theurgetogo,soIstar tedhuntingsquirrelsnearhome.ThoughnowI maylookbackonthatasakindofdeprivation,particularlywhenIcontrast itwiththeglossypicturesofdeer,turkey,andevenmountain-goat huntingthatIse einsportingmagazines,backthenitnevercrossedmy mindthatIwasd eprived.SureIwouldhavepreferredhuntingwithmy fatherandbrother,butIwasandamapatientman.Andifthatcouldnot be,wellIwoulddomybestwithsquirrelhunting.Ifoundanumberof friendsaroundSledgeandYellowBluffwhowereinsimilarcircumstances foronereasonoranother—oneofthemwasmycousinJacob.Theirfathers weretoobusytotakethemhuntingortheirfathersweredeadorhad left.Sowewouldhunttogether. Wewouldmeetabout4:00p.m.,atjustthepointwhentheautumnsun inSouthCarolinawasbeginningtoshow the firstsignsoffadingslowly intothehorizon.Ihadmysingle-shot.410,andthoughasIrecallRoyalso hada.410andJacoba.16,neithergunwasanymorethanadouble-barrel ifthat.Andthestocksoftheirguns,likemine,werescratchedandpitted fromridinginthebackofcarsandtruckswithouttheprotectionofacase. Theywereoldguns,passeddownbyfathersoruncleswhoeitherhadgotten bettergunsorwhohadgivenuponhuntingalltogether. Wemetintheafternoons,becauseweknew(I’mnotsurefromwhere) thatsquirrelswereonlyactiveearlyinthemorningandlateintheafternoon .Twoorthreeblocksfromhome,wheretheroadbecamedirtand somebody’sfarmstarted,thereweretwoorthreeacresofwoodsthatnobody hadclearedandcultivated—whoknowswhy.Andtherewewould sitandwait. [52.14.8.34] Project MUSE...