|My son posing with a deer my father killed in 2012|
November Means Muzzle loader season here in Tennessee. The cool to cold days lead hunters into the woods in force to see if the added range of a muzzle loader and the wild abandon of the rut can produce better results than the warm, sweaty, buggy bow season did. I am no different, I never miss the first chance to sling lead at my favorite table fare. Recently my son who is ten years old has been making the yearly pilgrimage to Middle Tennessee with my father and I to hunt. To have three generations of hunters in the woods has truly been a blessing from the All Mighty. Back in 2012 My father was able to take a nice eight pointer and share the experience with his son and grandson. I can not think of anything better than the old man seeing his son whom he shared the gift of the outdoors with pass it on down the line. This year My son Ryan and I took two deer from a blind strategically hid on a ridge overlooking a small grove of white oaks. Ryan was able to not only witness the very sobering taking of life when the deer were shot but also all the work that went on afterward. We dressed the deer and drug them out. Later we skinned, quartered, butchered and ground the two deer into food. What better education could a young man receive and what better reassurance could a grandfather receive but to see his son teaching his children proper living. Tonight we said grace over the deer that we came by honestly and as I watched my family eating I was overcome with a sense of how real life can be if you live it. While I feel closer to Thoreau when I am experiencing the fruits of my own labor instead of that of others, I feel closer to God when I share the lessons with my son, Your pal the Envirocapitalist.