The Last Hunt - Part 2
Josh watched the young man, who continued to look out over the top of the trees in the bottoms below where they sat. So many years had passed by so quickly. It seemed just like yesterday that he had cradled the strapping young man in his arms as a newborn. Eighteen years gone in the blink of an eye. But at times, it seemed a lifetime.
“Should we start heading to the barks of the dogs??
“No, not yet. Let them work out the track a little better, then we’ll start heading toward them. Saves some walking doing it that way.? Josh chuckled. “My legs ain’t got near the staying power as yours do anymore.?
The two of them sat, and easy silence falling over them as they listened to the dogs. From the sound of them, Josh figured them to be near the bend in the creek, where it started to head down toward the river and gradually got a lot deeper and wider. The open woods gave way to a tangle of brush that nearly choked the banks and extended out into a thicket that ran along on side of a meadow. A prime spot for a smart old coon to try to outwit the dogs that trailed it.
“You know, I have hunted these woods for nearly all my life. My dad took me hunting here for the first time when I was just seven years old. Was too small too do much, but he let me pack out one of the coon that the dogs treed that night. It was nearly as big as me, and I had to keep switching hands and stopping to take a break as we headed back to the house. He kept offering to take it from me, but I wouldn’t let him. I was going to carry it out no matter.?
hunting, hunting sense, coon hunting, short stories, fiction, creative writing, writing
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