HUNTING IS AN ART, NOT A SCIENCE!

My brother is constantly reminding me this is a HUNT, not a shoot; and that is why it is called a hunt! Eat your vittles and hope you actually have a sighting tomorrow!

The fox is really patient in his Hunt, expecting success for his efforts and live for another day!

Perhaps the science of patience (is there such a thing) is a skill to be learned, the practice of which is usually less exhausting than the continual walking, running, climbing, searching for the next target we just know is just ahead!

My older brother and I started hunting at very young ages, maybe 9 years old? Dad christened us with a single shot 22 rifle, conveyed the rudiments of safety, and sent us solo into the surrounding creek woods of our place to learn the trade! Later we would have a single shot shotgun of 410 or 16 gauge for bird hunting. (Side trivia my Dad as a youngster was sent fowl hunting with one shell, if he returned with game, he would get a second shell! Taught him to be sure of his target and score. No game, no more shells for three days.)

This is a tale of that day when my older brother exercised his hunting skills but forgot about his olfactory senses. Hunting alone for pheasants along a fence line he jumped a Pheasant Rooster and shot it, winged it and it ran into a nearby seed patch with some kind of tumbled wood and dirt mass in its center. My brother would work his way around one side only to notice the bird more than halfway around him and gaining, so he turned around to intercept this action and encountered a skunk! The skunk proceeded to shower him with incense not amenable to good relations with Mom and the rest of we children. He did bring the Pheasant home for a meal, spent about three days of special bath and other cleaning to again become respectable!