Dead trees still listening,
A bird singing alone,
Wind is quiet,
My dad and I were watching every movement in our sights as the cold bit us through our three layers of clothing in the blind. Each minute was hesitant to pass by, testing my thinning patience. My dad enjoyed the peace and took in the frozen, barren landscape. I held my rifle firmly while waiting for the enemy to pass by so I could ease my twitching finger.
A minute gone,
Trigger ever teasing,
Begging for attention.
“Where the hell are they? I want to shoot at least something.” My mind was questioning why my prey chose to take a day off. In the meantime my father and I began whispering inappropriate/dry jokes and small talk; those moments shot through me like a high caliber round. It was a true bonding experience that caused the sun to race across the sky. With minutes left of sunlight, we left the small, camouflaged box and headed back to the barn. Navy blue covered everything, and I grew anxious of this new eerie appearance. My dad and I were trying to see the path ahead of us while our bodies were aching from the cold. Something in the air seemed restless, even in the stillness…
Both sides staring into each other’s eyes;
Everything is still;
There they stood in front of us on the path, them damn hogs. I slowly walked backwards, never taking my eyes off the herd of ten savages. Once I was at a safe distance, I tried to ready my bringerofdeath as quick as Clint Eastwood. It was too late. The cowards ran into the adjacent property right when I inhaled. They survived that night, only because apparently I can’t pull off a Clint Eastwood film. My heart wilted for not earning the classic fatherandson tale to tell. Even in the disappointment my dad was smiling, which is a sight for any kind of eyes. In the end of it all, the two of us made an alternative fatherson story about losing against a crafty enemy because we focused on each other, not on our triggers or desired trophies.
Written by Nathan Dahill