Start Of winter Hunt

[Treeman]

The lities I schooled in hunting called up a meeting Friday night, they all leaving over the next 2 weeks for UK, USA, France - all got farming jobs.
Last get together.
They were 12 year olds yesterday, and last night they arrived in bakkies, the conversation used to be silly stuff and dream talk, now its woman, boobs and exchange rate theories. They buy their own alcohol, drive their own vehicles and argue on equal ground.

I only managed to get to the farm after 21:00 and they had all been drinking, some too much. We had a meeting and I cancelled the nights planned actives, we were going to go to the dairy to harvest a few bush pig that had taken over the place and then do a Springhare hunt - strictly catch, photo and release, you do not do the kick and bludgeon rabbit thing in my company.

The boys were all merry, jovial and there was a lot of "yeuu Uncle Dave thank you", " Uncle dave, not being funny, but we love you" and such sentiments being expressed. As the night progressed and 3 beers became six and the bottle of Mooiplaas special brandy became less and less full, the expressions of love, endearment and " no Uncle Dave, really, you dont understand, Uncle Dave, what I am trying to say .........................."
I think the bottle of brandy also had a second meaning to the boys, you see I had an agreement with the parents years ago, I am not there to police the boy's, only to guide. The boys were to feel free to experiment in front of me, and was to be there if they were so to say "fall".
The boys were told by me one night, "guys! Stop needing to go pee every 5 minutes, bring the alcohol to the fire and drink like men not fools". Like 6 beers were produced from behind trees and under bush's, I smile now thinking of that night. We had a chat in which I told the boys they could drink beer in front of me, but if we hunting the NEXT DAY, no spirits - other than that, no spirits at my camp anyway. It stayed that way and good for years, they tested swearing, drinking and spoke about things we all did when thinking about the girls. They were safe in front of me and I could educate best I could from my mistakes.
No spirits - the bottle of brandy was I think, just a little ' please note, we old enough now to make our own decisions.
Ya know the strangest part of all this, Friday morning I phoned the parents and told them, asked them that I was to be freed from my commitment to looking after them with authority, I would lose my boys if I continued exercising control over them.

The boys got fkd, Cody does not drink, has no interest, the boys got silly and at about 13;00 I called time out, bedtime guys and so much to my surprise they all went "ok Uncle dave" cept one boy whom I did not know, a newbie to me, he was a bit uppity - I went to my mattress. As I was dozing off I heard the farmers son tell Mr Uppity, "You don't want to fuck with Uncle dave" Drunk whisper. 
Must admit I dozed off with a grin on my face. 

We drove out this morning to go home and met the farmer by chance along the way to the farm road, stopped for a chat. A hour passed within a blink and she lamented and got bleary eyed about both her boys leaving for foreign shores within days and how she would be so alone. I said that we could do lunch when she was in PE and that we can still do the picnic we always plan and then she just went, " please Dave, you guys must still come hunt"
Well, well, well - imagine that.

The last part of the farm we drove through presented a warthog and we shot it out the bakkie window, not hunting, just collecting some meat and doing as told "shoot the w/hog on sight, do not shoot the jackal or lynx"

AAaaaand that guys was my Friday night and Saturday morning.
fraser April 2024 by David Frank Allen, on Flickr

[Treeman]

I forgot to mention, Cody drove the gravel road, 30 km of   
 click on photo to view video.
VID-20240419-WA0118 by David Frank Allen, on Flickr

[DaavG]

Well done Dave! Good story and superb effort over the years! Time marches on sadly...

[Againstthegrains]

Don't remind, I remember when my girls where too small to lift the pellet gun and shoot from the shoulder. Now they carry their own springbok into the house and hang them in the cooler.

[Shotofrank]

I can remember when I had only a pellet gun, barefoot with other little boys and a box of 100 pellets. The ground so cold your toes burnt.
Little murderers running amok shooting little things without conscience or after thought, simply not able to grasp the finality of our pleasures.
Black feet, unwashed hands, perhaps unbrushed teeth, grinning at it all in a pair of shorts and the one jacket for all occasions.

[oafpatroll]

People who have a bit of the country and it's ways built into their formative years are much the better for it in my experience. Fewer and fewer kids in the last two generations have had any direct exposure to the life, death and rebirth cycle of the land and my 2c theory is that without that they lack a foundation. When you grow up in a city where everything comes into your home in a plastic container, your mom has never made a dish from ingredients you had a hand in harvesting and your dad's tool box is a plastic blow molded 30 piece set from an online retailer you are absolutely clueless about the basics of human existence. Those boys learned a lot and much of that will probably only be apparent to them when they begin engaging with young adults who lacked what they got. 

[oafpatroll]

I can remember when I had only a pellet gun, barefoot with other little boys and a box of 100 pellets. The ground so cold your toes burnt.
Little murderers running amok shooting little things without conscience or after thought, simply not able to grasp the finality of our pleasures.
Black feet, unwashed hands, perhaps unbrushed teeth, grinning at it all in a pair of shorts and the one jacket for all occasions.

This resonates with me big time. Started with a BSA pellet gun handed to me by my grandfather with a handful of pellets and a stern warning about what happen if I shot something of the list of approved vermin. Doubt I was much more than 6 and I was allowed to roam the farm unattended but for my grans great danes. At or around 10, with some ceremony and even sterner warnings he handed me his Mauser 22 and a box of Swartklips and sent me out for the day to shoot indian mynahs and so forth. I was the proudest kid in the universe and felt like I had arrived.