Gilbert retrieves a white wing dove. Photo by Lefty Ray Chapa
Size does matter when trying to get kids to participate. The smaller they are, the bigger the limitations, but a devious imagination can overcome those self imposed barriers. I remember Texas river guide, Scott Graham, taking his one-year old daughter, Madison, on a fly fishing trip to the Guadalupe River. She was mounted on some sort of backpack type of contraption on his back that kept her out of the cold water as he waded from spot to spot. Bundled up, she had a blast watching her father catch fish after fish that frigid winter day.
Age matters too. The older the kids become, the more intricate the obstacles become. My son, Bruce, is a college junior and trying to rendezvous with him at a shooting range involves avoiding Saturday afternoon football games, fraternity functions, a real nice looking girlfriend, and the ever present load of schoolwork. I have managed to pull it off and give myself and “A” for doing it.
Surprisingly five-year olds, like my grandson Gilbert, have to consult their refrigerator based calendar. While he missed the dove hunting opener due to his football game, he made up for it the following weekend. He never missed a downed bird or a spent shotgun shell on the ground. He yearns to shoot, and that day will come. I have a plan.
The first step of the plan was to take advantage of their video game mindset. Kids are a wiz at manipulating the game controllers of the various gaming platforms. Before I could find an “outdoor” themed shooting game, Gilbert found one first. We had been strolling through Bass Pro Shops one night and he had come across the “Remington Great American Bird Hunt” video game at one of the kiosks which was setup so that you could actually play the game.
The game comes which a plastic shotgun shaped holder in which you place the wireless game controllers. Essentially various birds from ducks to pheasants fly across the screen while you shoot them down by pointing the plastic shotgun at them and pulling the trigger. A few weeks later, to his surprise, I pulled out the plastic shotgun from behind the sofa and began shooting at the game on my 52 inch flat screen. Needless to say we played the game until the roosters were crowing in eastern Helotes, TX.
The next step was clothing. Camo colored clothing seems to be an “in” thing across all generations of people. While some patterns are legit, like Realtree’s MAX-4, some are not, like pink camo. The regular folk view it and wear it as a fashion statement to stick out, while the people that are the real thing use it to blend in and disappear. The saving grace is that camo clothing can be found for all ages, from baby jumpsuits to the high tech stuff that makes no noise nor emits a scent.
Clothing Gilbert was easy, but it occurred a piece at a time. Some of it was a bargain like the Texas A&M camo ball-cap in a youth size was $.99. Some of it was pricey like the Under Armour camo hoody, $50.00 (which should last him a couple of seasons).
Under the pretext of practicing for duck season, dove hunting became the excuse to get out in the field. Sitting side by side and leaning way back in dove hunting chairs we gazed the skies for incoming black clouds of birds. Most of the time the black clouds were too high in the sky, but I shot anyways. After shooting a full box of shells and no hits, Gilbert might have thought the score was Grandpa 0, Doves 25. All I heard from him was, “Your killing me Grandpa.” All I could think was, “You’re keeping me alive by being here by my side” and the actual score was Grandpa 1, Grandson 1.
