I have a picture of my dad the day he shot an elk:
September 23, 1998. He is so happy. You can just
see it in his face. Always an avid hunter. The elk he
shot was massive....estimated to be 1100 to 1200 pounds.
I can reach out and touch his picture of him smiling
so warmly with glee. He looks down on me from that
picture and greets me every morning.
I never liked killing anything in my life, much less
a poor ole animal in the wild. Dad was brought up on
a farm milking cows. Killing the chicken or the pig;
butchering and cooking for him was a way of life.
He'd say to me: Son, you see a beautiful, graceful-walking
deer in the wild as you look with your naked eye; but I,
on the other hand, see a rack of steaks hanging there,
as I look through the scope of my rifle.
Always a respecful hunter in the wild. I love you, Dad.
Anthony, I could not help but share this, as I think of
my dad. I hope you not think me selfish.
May God bless you and comfort you,