Tonight we made plans for a couple of stands out on a local rancher's land. My son was so excited to be back in his hunting gear, and he trudged through the mud like a real trooper. Our first stand we set up near a wash and tucked ourselves into some cat claw brush. I let him do most of the calling, but nothing showed up. We headed to the next stand, which was all uphill, but he never complained - it must have been a little tough on him because I got a bit short-winded! We nestled into the base of a cedar tree and I started in on some high-pitched distress. The sun was starting to set, but about 6 minutes into the stand Garret taps my leg, just like I told him to do if he sees something. I look to where he's looking and there stands a grey fox, looking in our direction but not alerted. I raise my shotgun, the only gun I had brought, and realize that this fox is a little too far away. He starts to run downwind and I get a little excited about dropping this fox with my son on stand with me. I squeeze the trigger and BOOM! I think I shot over him! He turns and heads out and BOOM! I let another one rip, but he's already back in the brush. Normally I'd keep calling but instead I turn to Garret and say "You saw that little fox, right?" He's got this huge grin on his face, and then as only my own son could do, he starts to give me a hard time about missing. We walk over to where the fox was and Garret says "I thought it was a squirrel!" We pace off the shot and it turns out it was a little far indeed - 70 yards! Guess Dad got a little "fox fever" and shot too soon. As we headed back to the truck, I watched my son walk through the wild outdoors, and as the world let a beautiful sunset crest the horizon, I knew that life is good.
And we've already made plans to go back after that fox next week!
Before we packed it up, I took a picture of Garret on stand. He really wanted to hold my shotgun . . . .
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