A HUNTER I WAS NOT!

        All the talk lately about hunting deer and whatever reminded me of one of my first and last hunting experiences. The realization that I was not a hunter came to me while in college during the mid 1960's. During the pheasant hunting season I came up to our farm from Des Moines with a fellow college student I knew. My sister, Doris, and brother-in- law, Clyde, lived there at the time. 

      The guy that I brought up with me was from Chicago and had a new shot-gun that his dad had purchased for him. I'm not sure that he had ever hunted before. Every time we crossed over a fence that gun seemed to always be pointing at me. 

       When the day was over, I knew I would never hunt again or at least pheasants. First, the thought of being shot accidentally while shooting a bird that didn't appeal to me to eat while stomping through and over corn stalks on a very cold day just didn't seem like my cup of tea. Besides, I was not a very good shot! To surmise, give me a juicy turkey breast from the grocery store anytime. You bet! Never did hunt again.

************As a follow up to this story my dad's 16 gauge pump "Remington" shotgun with case was stolen from a storage facility in West Des Moines in the early 1990's. Despite the fact I was not a hunter it always broke my heart that it was lost. It was one of the very few things left by him!