WEBVTT - Ep. 291: This Country Life - A First and A Last

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<v Speaker 1>Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves

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<v Speaker 1>from coon hunting to trot lining and just general country living.

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<v Speaker 1>I want you to stay a while as I share

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<v Speaker 1>my experiences in life lessons. This Country Life is presented

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<v Speaker 1>by Case Knives on Meat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you

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<v Speaker 1>the best outdoor podcast the airwaves have to offer. All right, friends,

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<v Speaker 1>grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some

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<v Speaker 1>stories to share. A first and last, A first and last,

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<v Speaker 1>the beginning in the end. If there is a start

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<v Speaker 1>to anything, there will most definitely always be an end.

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<v Speaker 1>We can plan for the beginning, but the end is

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<v Speaker 1>hardly ever known. From a first world hunt to a

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<v Speaker 1>last deer hunt, we never know when they'll end, but

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<v Speaker 1>we hope that the last one will be as memorable

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<v Speaker 1>as the first. I've got what I believe are great

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<v Speaker 1>examples of each and I'm going to share them with

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<v Speaker 1>you now, starting with this story. There are four states

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<v Speaker 1>in the US that refer to themselves as Commonwealth states, Kentucky, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania,

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<v Speaker 1>and Virginia, the home of this country Life listener who

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<v Speaker 1>shared the following narrative from forty four years ago. So

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<v Speaker 1>when his words in my voice. Here we go. My

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<v Speaker 1>name is Howard Howie Toler from Bluefield, Virginia. My story

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<v Speaker 1>takes us back to nineteen eighty when I was ten

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<v Speaker 1>and October was quickly approaching, and I was eagerly awaiting

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<v Speaker 1>the time to come when my dad, my uncle, older

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<v Speaker 1>cousins hitch up my dad's camper to the white jeep

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<v Speaker 1>grand Wagoneer with wood grain panels and head out to

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<v Speaker 1>Greenbrier County, West Virginia for my first squirrel hunting trip.

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<v Speaker 1>I've been hearing the guys telling their hunting tales for

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<v Speaker 1>as long as I could remember, and I absolutely could

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<v Speaker 1>not wait to get out in the woods. I remember

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<v Speaker 1>being on the top bunk. I thought I had won

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<v Speaker 1>the toss and got the best sleeping position, but I

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<v Speaker 1>was soon reminded that heat and the exhaust of the

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<v Speaker 1>other guys following chilly with beans for dinner, rises and

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<v Speaker 1>hangs out right on top with me, and being a camper,

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<v Speaker 1>there were only a few valuable inches of airspace between

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<v Speaker 1>my nose and the ceiling. I certainly didn't I get

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<v Speaker 1>much sleep that night before opening. The morning excitement and

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<v Speaker 1>the strange smells and lack of sounds except for the

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<v Speaker 1>occasional acron bouncing off the roof of our camper kept

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<v Speaker 1>me from getting much more than a few non consecutive

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<v Speaker 1>hours of sleep. Bout the time I got good and asleep,

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<v Speaker 1>the mallet on that old wind up alarm clock started

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<v Speaker 1>banging away at its two bells. Someone, and I'm not

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<v Speaker 1>sure who, smacked that obnoxious clock and bounced it off

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<v Speaker 1>the wall, putting an abrupt end to all the racket.

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<v Speaker 1>Now I shot up, I sung the covers off, and

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<v Speaker 1>I swear it seemed like I had my boots on

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<v Speaker 1>before it hit the floor. Everyone was squeezing past each

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<v Speaker 1>other in the narrow camper, stepping over boxes and duffel bags,

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<v Speaker 1>trying to get dressed, getting the day's snacks packed, and

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<v Speaker 1>slurped down a cup of coffee. Except Dad. He just

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<v Speaker 1>laid in his bunk, looking at his foot that was

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<v Speaker 1>sticking out from under the cover. Two things to know

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<v Speaker 1>about my dad. Everyone called him Fudd, and because of

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<v Speaker 1>an unfortunate accident in the coal mine, he had only

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<v Speaker 1>nine toes. Sometime during the night someone had tied a

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<v Speaker 1>game tag who his toe next to the one that

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<v Speaker 1>was missing, and rode on it. Fud gone to market

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<v Speaker 1>be back soon. It was probably the the funniest thing

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<v Speaker 1>I had witnessed in my ten years, and Dad was

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<v Speaker 1>quick to say it's not many people to get to

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<v Speaker 1>see their toe tag and live the tell A Mountain. Well.

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<v Speaker 1>Soon after me and Dad were parked on the lot,

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<v Speaker 1>me looking uphiling him downhill. Or at least that's what

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<v Speaker 1>he said. I had no idea because it was still

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<v Speaker 1>dark to say I was a little uneasy sitting in

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<v Speaker 1>the pitch black in the woods was an understanding. I

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<v Speaker 1>was sure every twig and falling up with some unseen

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<v Speaker 1>toothy beasts planning to make breakfast out of me. The

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<v Speaker 1>Dad kept scooting me down, saying if I get any closer,

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<v Speaker 1>I had to get in his pocket. Soon enough that

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<v Speaker 1>old son did what it does and started to rise

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<v Speaker 1>above the ridge. I got my first looks at where

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<v Speaker 1>I'd been sitting, and even though it was really no

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<v Speaker 1>different than the woods I played in behind the house,

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<v Speaker 1>I was certain that our four feet were the only

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<v Speaker 1>ones to ever leave tracks in that portion of the wilderness.

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<v Speaker 1>And even though that wagoneer that we had rode in

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<v Speaker 1>on was within sight just to hundred yards away, it

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<v Speaker 1>was shooting like now Dad pulled out a three inch

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<v Speaker 1>number five four to ten shell from his pocket and

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<v Speaker 1>told me to load up, but don't close the breech

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<v Speaker 1>on my single shot. We sat there on that log

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<v Speaker 1>for what seemed like days but was probably only an

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<v Speaker 1>hour or so, and Dad reached over and took the

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<v Speaker 1>shell from my gun and told me come on, close

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<v Speaker 1>her up. And we stood up, and I snapped the

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<v Speaker 1>four tenth closed, and I followed him over the ridge

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<v Speaker 1>to another spot, where we repeated the process of finding

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<v Speaker 1>the log and looking in the office of directions again,

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<v Speaker 1>not so much as a chipmunk made an appearance. My

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<v Speaker 1>dreams of shooting herds the squirrels from the tree off

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<v Speaker 1>were quickly fading and bored them cold, and my butt

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<v Speaker 1>getting numb on that damp log started setting in. By

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<v Speaker 1>now it was close to time to head back to

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<v Speaker 1>camp for lunch. I think my dad knew I was

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<v Speaker 1>losing a little my excitement, so since we were leaving anyway,

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<v Speaker 1>we found an old vial in the sausage can, stuck

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<v Speaker 1>it on the branch and stepped off a few paces,

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<v Speaker 1>added me a shell. Let me shoot my gun and

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<v Speaker 1>kill that camp. I was glad to do it. We

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<v Speaker 1>headed back to camp, and after lunch, Dad knew another

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<v Speaker 1>place where he had found squirrel cuttings under some hickory trees.

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<v Speaker 1>We parked ourselves on another log, looked in the opposite

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<v Speaker 1>directions again, and I got my shell in my open breach.

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<v Speaker 1>Four to ten and I'm ready. I was beginning to

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<v Speaker 1>question repeating this same approach to squirrel hunting. Walk and sit,

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<v Speaker 1>walk and sit, walk and sit. My thoughts were wondering

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<v Speaker 1>where everything ten year old boys ponder on, namely Daisy duke,

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<v Speaker 1>and watch that weird bug? And can't I squish it

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<v Speaker 1>with a stick that I'm playing with. I pretty much

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<v Speaker 1>giving up on looking for squirrels and basically just keeping

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<v Speaker 1>Dad company while he hunted. Suddenly, a flash of movement

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<v Speaker 1>and a tree caught my attention. I'm thinking, sesh, another

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<v Speaker 1>stupid bird. Ain't gonna minute. That bird has a fuzzy tail,

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<v Speaker 1>be Dad, it was a squirrel. Dad slowly glanced over

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<v Speaker 1>his shoulder and began scanning to locate what I was seeing,

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<v Speaker 1>and in short order he locked on Son, get ready,

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<v Speaker 1>that's a big one at a snail's pace. He swung

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<v Speaker 1>his legs over that log and it was now facing

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<v Speaker 1>the same direction as me. We watched and waited while

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<v Speaker 1>that squirrel worked its way closer and in de range

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<v Speaker 1>and my shotgun. Finally it was close enough and stopped

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<v Speaker 1>while it sat in the crotch of a limb on

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<v Speaker 1>a tree, just nibbling at a hick or none. Dad said,

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<v Speaker 1>go ahead and shoot, and for whatever reason, I stood

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<v Speaker 1>up and got down on one knee like I was

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<v Speaker 1>going to ask that squirrel to marry me. I rolled

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<v Speaker 1>the hammer back, I settled the bead, and bang. I

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<v Speaker 1>recovered from the shot, and my squirrel was still where

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<v Speaker 1>it was when I shot, only now it was on

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<v Speaker 1>the trunk, pointing upward toward the kenomy. Dad handed me

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<v Speaker 1>another shell, but that squirrel lost his grip and fell

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<v Speaker 1>with a thud walking up. I knew it was a

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<v Speaker 1>whopper of a fox squirrel, but it wasn't dead. Dad

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<v Speaker 1>got it by the tail and entered it suffering by

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<v Speaker 1>swinging it and thumping its head on a tree. I

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<v Speaker 1>was a little shocked by the violence of it all,

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<v Speaker 1>and I remember feeling slightly guilty for what we just did. Now.

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<v Speaker 1>Later on, my dad remarked that if there ever comes

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<v Speaker 1>a time when you don't have a little remorse for

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<v Speaker 1>taking a life. It's time to quit hunting. We got

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<v Speaker 1>back to camp first, and I couldn't wait for the

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<v Speaker 1>others to make it back so I could show off

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<v Speaker 1>my price. Soon enough, everyone started straggling in. I had

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<v Speaker 1>it all planned out. I'd wait for everyone to get back,

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<v Speaker 1>and when they all pulled up today's squirrels and began

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<v Speaker 1>the cleaning process, I'd throw my whopper down on top

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<v Speaker 1>of the pile and soak in all the adulations in

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<v Speaker 1>the backslaps. And just like I planned, my uncle cousins

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<v Speaker 1>had a pile of gray squirrels and on wase a

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<v Speaker 1>nice fox squirrel that they were proud of. Everyone was

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<v Speaker 1>telling the stories of how their squirrels came to be

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<v Speaker 1>in the game vest Now they just commenced to clean

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<v Speaker 1>the squirrels when I walked up and dropped mine on

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<v Speaker 1>top of the pile like an old West gambler throwing

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<v Speaker 1>down a straight flush, and said, bam, boys, sure enough,

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<v Speaker 1>the holy cows, the good gullies, and the way that

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<v Speaker 1>goes started just like I planned, and I finally had

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<v Speaker 1>a hunting tale to share. Now that old fox squirrel

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<v Speaker 1>ended up in a pot with dumplings, and Dad always

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<v Speaker 1>regretted not having that squirrel mounted for me, but I

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<v Speaker 1>never really cared that he didn't. I had a memory

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<v Speaker 1>and a tale to tale that has stayed with me

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<v Speaker 1>for nearly forty five years. I had more adventures and

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<v Speaker 1>taking bigger and better game, but that fox squirrel back

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<v Speaker 1>in nineteen eighty is my favorite memory. Dad and my

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<v Speaker 1>uncle are gone now, but they are with me every

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<v Speaker 1>opening morning the squirrel season, and sometimes I'll chuckle out

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<v Speaker 1>loud thinking about Dad's to tag and a note from

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<v Speaker 1>the little piggy went to market. And according to Howie

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<v Speaker 1>Toller of Bluefield, Virginia, that's just how that happened, now,

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<v Speaker 1>how We included a picture of that day of him,

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<v Speaker 1>a skinny ten year old boy, his dad, a pile

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<v Speaker 1>of squirrels on the ground, a normal sized fox squirrel

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<v Speaker 1>in his left hand, and trophy in his right that's

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<v Speaker 1>as big as a small child. Thanks for sharing, Howie.

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<v Speaker 1>If you're interested in seeing that picture, check out my Instagram.

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<v Speaker 1>It was open the day of gun deer season in

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<v Speaker 1>Arkansas over twenty years ago, and I was working uniform

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<v Speaker 1>patrol as a lieutenant and the day shift supervisor. My

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<v Speaker 1>sheriff was deer hunting, my major was deer hunting, and

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<v Speaker 1>the Captain was deer hunting. They were all only a

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<v Speaker 1>phone called away from working, but if nothing happened, they

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<v Speaker 1>would only see the reports about what took place in

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<v Speaker 1>their absence. So why was I working on opening Day? Well,

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<v Speaker 1>I just answered my own question. All the admin folks

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<v Speaker 1>were off. The standard operating procedure was anything that happened

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<v Speaker 1>requiring additional personnel to be called out, like CID or

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<v Speaker 1>narcotics or the coroner. My immediate supervisor would have to

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<v Speaker 1>be notified, and then he would determine if it was

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<v Speaker 1>to be passed on up the chain of command and

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<v Speaker 1>so on. Also, I was leading by example and showing

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<v Speaker 1>the deputies in my charge that I was willing to

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<v Speaker 1>work so one of them could enjoy the on set

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<v Speaker 1>of firearm season at their family's camp. It was an

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<v Speaker 1>excellent example of leadership. It was also a testament of

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<v Speaker 1>my misreading the schedule weeks before when that deputy had

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<v Speaker 1>put in for his request to be off duty. Nice job,

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<v Speaker 1>Stephen Vestel. Anyway, there I was working when I didn't

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<v Speaker 1>have to, and on a day when I didn't have to,

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<v Speaker 1>I wanted to be off hunting with my but it

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<v Speaker 1>would turn out to be one of the best days

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<v Speaker 1>at work ever, not the best, but ride up there

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<v Speaker 1>close the day that stands out in the top ten

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<v Speaker 1>percent of a thirty two year career. Of that in

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<v Speaker 1>itself speaks volumes of how it affected one singular event

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<v Speaker 1>out of literally thousands of interactions that to this day.

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<v Speaker 1>When someone asks for a story, this one comes to mind,

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<v Speaker 1>but I seldom tell it, not because I don't think

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<v Speaker 1>they'll appreciate it, because I don't know if they'll appreciate

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<v Speaker 1>it enough. Besides, most folks only want to hear the

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<v Speaker 1>stories when someone winds up not being amongst the living

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<v Speaker 1>before it's overwhet. Those are the ones that I wish

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<v Speaker 1>I could forget, the ones that I don't talk about

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<v Speaker 1>unless it's to someone who was there in a setting

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<v Speaker 1>where folks that weren't can't hear us, and even then

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<v Speaker 1>no details, usually just to pass and mention of remember

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<v Speaker 1>such and such, Yep, that was a bad one, and

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<v Speaker 1>then we go on we talk about something else, but

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<v Speaker 1>I think about them often. Then there's this story, and

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<v Speaker 1>it's one where someone passes away and you hear it

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<v Speaker 1>in a few moments, and if you see it in

0:13:15.240 --> 0:13:17.200
<v Speaker 1>your head the way I saw it that day, I

0:13:17.240 --> 0:13:20.200
<v Speaker 1>think you'll agree. Why it's not one that I choose

0:13:20.280 --> 0:13:26.040
<v Speaker 1>to share in the idle conversation deserves some reverence. I

0:13:26.080 --> 0:13:28.680
<v Speaker 1>wrote this today. It happened when I got off work.

0:13:30.240 --> 0:13:32.760
<v Speaker 1>I would eventually find out that all my assumptions in

0:13:32.800 --> 0:13:35.280
<v Speaker 1>the text of the story proved to be true. So

0:13:36.120 --> 0:13:40.079
<v Speaker 1>clear your mind and walk with you. Here we go.

0:13:46.040 --> 0:13:48.559
<v Speaker 1>I didn't know the old man. I had never met

0:13:48.640 --> 0:13:51.240
<v Speaker 1>him or even heard his name before when they told

0:13:51.240 --> 0:13:55.560
<v Speaker 1>me who he was. But I'll never forget him. The

0:13:55.600 --> 0:13:57.920
<v Speaker 1>old man's obituary, we'll read that he was in his

0:13:58.000 --> 0:14:01.760
<v Speaker 1>eighties and that a wife, chill, and grandchildren survive him.

0:14:02.880 --> 0:14:04.600
<v Speaker 1>It may mention that he was a veteran of World

0:14:04.600 --> 0:14:07.839
<v Speaker 1>War Two and was retired after a long career in

0:14:07.880 --> 0:14:10.480
<v Speaker 1>a mundane job somewhere that he worked to provide for

0:14:10.559 --> 0:14:15.000
<v Speaker 1>his family for the majority of his adult life. It

0:14:15.080 --> 0:14:17.679
<v Speaker 1>may even remark that the old man was an outdoorsman.

0:14:18.600 --> 0:14:21.600
<v Speaker 1>But they'll never be able to convey on a pamphlet

0:14:21.960 --> 0:14:26.240
<v Speaker 1>handed out by an emphatically somber suit wearing funeral director

0:14:26.960 --> 0:14:30.080
<v Speaker 1>the way that old man went to Heaven. I know.

0:14:31.360 --> 0:14:33.880
<v Speaker 1>I know because I was fortunate enough to be able

0:14:33.880 --> 0:14:38.600
<v Speaker 1>to see what the old man saw. The call came

0:14:38.600 --> 0:14:41.040
<v Speaker 1>out from dispatch to meet up with a reporting party

0:14:41.080 --> 0:14:43.720
<v Speaker 1>at a deer camp in a rural portion of the county.

0:14:44.680 --> 0:14:46.960
<v Speaker 1>The ten coach she relayed to me over the radio

0:14:47.080 --> 0:14:50.960
<v Speaker 1>was one that meant there was an unattended death, Someone

0:14:51.040 --> 0:14:54.840
<v Speaker 1>had died alone. I was in that district and answered

0:14:54.880 --> 0:14:57.000
<v Speaker 1>the call this morning and met with one of the

0:14:57.040 --> 0:14:59.680
<v Speaker 1>camp members who would lead me to the place with

0:14:59.800 --> 0:15:03.440
<v Speaker 1>the the old man was. I got there, and I

0:15:03.480 --> 0:15:05.600
<v Speaker 1>walked the short distance to where the old man had

0:15:05.640 --> 0:15:09.520
<v Speaker 1>been hunting out behind the camp. The sky was clear

0:15:09.560 --> 0:15:11.440
<v Speaker 1>and the sun was shining through the trees and the

0:15:11.480 --> 0:15:15.640
<v Speaker 1>little oak flat where his ground blind was. The air

0:15:15.800 --> 0:15:18.720
<v Speaker 1>was crisp and just cold enough to stay warm wearing

0:15:18.720 --> 0:15:21.080
<v Speaker 1>a jacket if you were moving around, or if you

0:15:21.160 --> 0:15:26.080
<v Speaker 1>were sitting a thick wool lined antiquated canvas coat like

0:15:26.160 --> 0:15:29.880
<v Speaker 1>the old man had on. A short distance away was

0:15:29.880 --> 0:15:32.040
<v Speaker 1>a lean up stand that the members of his camp

0:15:32.160 --> 0:15:35.120
<v Speaker 1>had told me that they convinced him to abandon in

0:15:35.160 --> 0:15:38.720
<v Speaker 1>his failing health. One of the members built the ground

0:15:38.800 --> 0:15:41.560
<v Speaker 1>blind that faced this little flat where the cool breeze

0:15:41.560 --> 0:15:45.200
<v Speaker 1>blew water oak leaves from their limbs. They rustled around

0:15:45.280 --> 0:15:48.160
<v Speaker 1>like ripples in a pond, settling into a patchwork of

0:15:48.240 --> 0:15:52.480
<v Speaker 1>sunlight that dotted the area where we stood. There was

0:15:52.520 --> 0:15:55.000
<v Speaker 1>a small buck scrape in front of a blind, and

0:15:55.040 --> 0:15:58.000
<v Speaker 1>a few small red oaks that showed signs of where

0:15:58.000 --> 0:16:02.640
<v Speaker 1>a bucket recently rubbed his arms. Beside the blind was

0:16:02.640 --> 0:16:06.360
<v Speaker 1>a browning rifle leaned against an oak tree. The rifle

0:16:06.440 --> 0:16:10.040
<v Speaker 1>was old but immaculate. The bluing was worn, and there

0:16:10.080 --> 0:16:12.640
<v Speaker 1>was a few scratches here and there, but one could

0:16:12.640 --> 0:16:16.360
<v Speaker 1>see that this rifle belonged to a hunter. Maybe the

0:16:16.360 --> 0:16:19.080
<v Speaker 1>old man carried a different rifle many years ago when

0:16:19.080 --> 0:16:22.040
<v Speaker 1>he served our country. I don't know, but you can

0:16:22.080 --> 0:16:24.760
<v Speaker 1>bet that if he did carry one, it was kept

0:16:24.800 --> 0:16:31.480
<v Speaker 1>just as clean as this one. A short distance in

0:16:31.480 --> 0:16:33.440
<v Speaker 1>front of the blind lay a buck that was dropped

0:16:33.440 --> 0:16:36.160
<v Speaker 1>in his tracks by an old man using this old rifle.

0:16:37.360 --> 0:16:42.480
<v Speaker 1>And laying beside the deer was the old man. The

0:16:42.560 --> 0:16:46.000
<v Speaker 1>deer had been expertly feel dressed by someone who had

0:16:46.200 --> 0:16:50.080
<v Speaker 1>done it more than once, and among the old man's

0:16:50.120 --> 0:16:53.440
<v Speaker 1>few possessions inventory from his clothes was an old man's

0:16:53.480 --> 0:16:56.920
<v Speaker 1>pocket knife stained with the blood from his latest and

0:16:57.240 --> 0:17:01.880
<v Speaker 1>last deer, A single blade trapper sharp as a razor,

0:17:02.240 --> 0:17:04.679
<v Speaker 1>the blade thin from many trips up and down a

0:17:04.680 --> 0:17:07.560
<v Speaker 1>wet rock. I held it in my hand, and I

0:17:07.600 --> 0:17:11.240
<v Speaker 1>saw the pocket war that had rented, the logo, almost unreadable,

0:17:11.520 --> 0:17:14.400
<v Speaker 1>and the scales slick and polished from years of being

0:17:14.520 --> 0:17:18.880
<v Speaker 1>carried in his pocket, but immediately recognizable as to what

0:17:18.920 --> 0:17:22.520
<v Speaker 1>it was to anyone in my circle. I imagine the

0:17:22.560 --> 0:17:25.240
<v Speaker 1>old man sitting at the campfire at night, telling stories

0:17:25.359 --> 0:17:28.400
<v Speaker 1>or listening to him while he drank coffee and sharpened

0:17:28.400 --> 0:17:32.280
<v Speaker 1>his knife. Now I feel like he saw heaven twice

0:17:32.320 --> 0:17:36.439
<v Speaker 1>that day, the first time around nine fifteen in a

0:17:36.480 --> 0:17:39.280
<v Speaker 1>little oak flat where his body rested when I first

0:17:39.280 --> 0:17:43.840
<v Speaker 1>saw him. Nine point fifteen was the time recorded by

0:17:43.880 --> 0:17:45.960
<v Speaker 1>the old man on the tag that hung from the

0:17:46.000 --> 0:17:50.040
<v Speaker 1>bucks antlers. The second time he saw heaven was a

0:17:50.119 --> 0:17:52.800
<v Speaker 1>short time afterward, when he walked the wooded trail home

0:17:52.880 --> 0:17:56.959
<v Speaker 1>to be with his maker. What a beautiful day, in

0:17:57.000 --> 0:18:03.800
<v Speaker 1>a beautiful way to go to Heaven. I think about

0:18:03.840 --> 0:18:06.320
<v Speaker 1>that day now, over twenty years later, and while I

0:18:06.359 --> 0:18:09.800
<v Speaker 1>know there are folks who I'm sure still mourn the

0:18:09.880 --> 0:18:12.879
<v Speaker 1>loss of the old man. I feel privileged to have

0:18:12.960 --> 0:18:15.399
<v Speaker 1>been there as a witness to his last act of

0:18:15.520 --> 0:18:18.480
<v Speaker 1>being as close to creation as one could be while living,

0:18:19.480 --> 0:18:23.159
<v Speaker 1>And then a moment later, beside the one that created it,

0:18:25.320 --> 0:18:27.880
<v Speaker 1>he'd accomplished what he loved to do. He filled his

0:18:27.960 --> 0:18:32.119
<v Speaker 1>final tag in a place he'd hunted all his life,

0:18:32.320 --> 0:18:34.680
<v Speaker 1>the place he loved the most, And when he finished

0:18:34.680 --> 0:18:38.760
<v Speaker 1>the field work, he put everything in his place and

0:18:38.920 --> 0:18:44.919
<v Speaker 1>laid down to rest forever his heart for over eighty years,

0:18:44.920 --> 0:18:49.200
<v Speaker 1>faithfully matching the pace of his life, that simply played out,

0:18:50.119 --> 0:18:56.040
<v Speaker 1>And that was the end. That was the last. You know.

0:18:56.080 --> 0:18:58.879
<v Speaker 1>I shared that story on a private hunting group form

0:18:58.960 --> 0:19:01.480
<v Speaker 1>from back in the day, right after it happened, and

0:19:01.480 --> 0:19:04.480
<v Speaker 1>when you know it, a friend of a friend of

0:19:04.520 --> 0:19:07.840
<v Speaker 1>mine saw it and shared it with the old man's family.

0:19:08.840 --> 0:19:11.040
<v Speaker 1>A week or so after his passing. They reached out

0:19:11.080 --> 0:19:12.920
<v Speaker 1>to me and thanked me and told me they took

0:19:13.000 --> 0:19:16.480
<v Speaker 1>great comfort in hearing how I had interpreted the old

0:19:16.520 --> 0:19:20.280
<v Speaker 1>man's last morning. I'll never forget it, And as I

0:19:20.320 --> 0:19:23.560
<v Speaker 1>sit here now, I can still hear the cool wind

0:19:23.600 --> 0:19:26.359
<v Speaker 1>and the rustle of the leaves as they tumbled across

0:19:26.440 --> 0:19:29.320
<v Speaker 1>the ground, and feel the peace that was around us

0:19:29.359 --> 0:19:36.720
<v Speaker 1>all that November morning. Thank y'all so much for listening.

0:19:37.240 --> 0:19:39.960
<v Speaker 1>It is my absolute pleasure to bring these stories to

0:19:40.000 --> 0:19:43.520
<v Speaker 1>you each week and share them with you. Keep sharing

0:19:43.560 --> 0:19:46.240
<v Speaker 1>and spreading the word Old Clayboa and I appreciate it

0:19:46.680 --> 0:19:51.679
<v Speaker 1>very much. Until next week, this is Brent Reeve signing off.

0:19:51.760 --> 0:20:04.000
<v Speaker 1>Y'all be careful, King,