Hunting for Survival
Hunting and Fishing is part of the current East Tennessee culture, though it is more for sport than for survival. I grew up hunting small game such as dove, quail, and squirrel. My father, Alva, and oldest brother, Todd, are now deer hunters. My other brother Mark and I occasionally break out the 12 gauge Browning shotguns for a dove hunt to remember old times.
However, there was a time when one hunted to eat. My grandfather, Rufe, told me a couple of stories which fascinate me to this day. Keep this in mind, resources were so limited that they did not take weapons or ammunition with them, but waited until they found the game.
Once when Rufe was a boy, he and his father were hunting for food in the cold winter. His father, Poppy, spotted a covey of quail huddled together under one bush. Rufus ran back home, got the gun and ammunition, and returned to give them to Poppy. Poppy shot and killed all twelve or thirteen birds with one shot. Needless to say this was a rare and memorable event for the large family.
Granddaddy was able to do something that I have never heard of anyone else doing. His brothers would send him out to find rabbits sitting. He would come back to the house and tell his brothers where the rabbit was hiding. They would then go and kill the game for a meal.
It is easy to dismiss small stories such as these as trite and even cruel to the animals. We must remember how blessed (or cursed some would say) we are with material goods. Who can say that these skills will never be needed again for survival?
However, there was a time when one hunted to eat. My grandfather, Rufe, told me a couple of stories which fascinate me to this day. Keep this in mind, resources were so limited that they did not take weapons or ammunition with them, but waited until they found the game.
Once when Rufe was a boy, he and his father were hunting for food in the cold winter. His father, Poppy, spotted a covey of quail huddled together under one bush. Rufus ran back home, got the gun and ammunition, and returned to give them to Poppy. Poppy shot and killed all twelve or thirteen birds with one shot. Needless to say this was a rare and memorable event for the large family.
Granddaddy was able to do something that I have never heard of anyone else doing. His brothers would send him out to find rabbits sitting. He would come back to the house and tell his brothers where the rabbit was hiding. They would then go and kill the game for a meal.
It is easy to dismiss small stories such as these as trite and even cruel to the animals. We must remember how blessed (or cursed some would say) we are with material goods. Who can say that these skills will never be needed again for survival?
posted by David M at 10:04 AM
1 Comments:
I enjoyed this quick read. Though I am from No. Florida, my grandaddy recounted similar stories about growing up during the tough times and hunting to eat. One such story had my Aunt Janie (his eldest sister)dropping him and his bird dog off about 10 miles from town. They hunted/walked from that point to the house and he brought home 26 birds to feed everyone. The unique thing was that he only had 1 box of shells (25) with him! A hungry belly made for a sharp eye!
I was blog searching Browning shotguns when I found yours. Thanks for reminding me of a day when things were much simpler. Tales like yours let our ancestors live on.
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