- Joined
- May 17, 2005
- Messages
- 587
The little 22 rifle barked and the big grey squirrel fell out of the big hickory tree. The young woman made a mental note of where the squirrel landed and lowered her rifle and put the saftey on. She looked at the rifle fondly and the memories came flooding back to her. It had been her fathers rifle, nothing special just a Revelations tube fed bolt action. But it was the rifle she had learned to shoot with,many of pine cones and tin cans met there demise with this little rifle.When she was older a new 22 rifle was gifted to her, but she preferred this one. She became a crack shot in her teen years and filled the pot with many squirrels.
The young woman walked to where the squirrel had fallen and picked it up and looked it over,a clean kill one shot to the head. Just like her father had taught her. She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her pocket knife. It had also been her fathers, he had other pocket knives, but this was the one he carried daily for as long as she could remember. It was an Eye Brand Yellow Handled copperhead. Both blades were worn thin from sharpening, but it was still razor sharp, She also carried this knife daily even at work in her office the knife was close at hand,as it had been when her father carried it. Its presence was always there opening boxes or presents at Christmas time and birthdays. She and her father fished and the little knife had cleaned more than its fair share of fish. Her father took good care of it thru out the years and had taught her to do the same.The memories came back of the fishing trips and the days spent hunting and camping trips.
She cleaned the squirrel with ease and wiped the blade off on her jeans and slid it back into her pocket. She would give it a good cleaning and a few licks on her leather strop that her father had made for her when she got home.
She left the woods and went straight to where her father was at.told him of the hunt and that the 22 rifle was still a shooter,and the little eye brand was still sharp.
She turned and left the grave wher her father had been laid to rest for better than two years. Even though he was gone, he would always be with her with the memories that he had made in her heart.
The young woman walked to where the squirrel had fallen and picked it up and looked it over,a clean kill one shot to the head. Just like her father had taught her. She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her pocket knife. It had also been her fathers, he had other pocket knives, but this was the one he carried daily for as long as she could remember. It was an Eye Brand Yellow Handled copperhead. Both blades were worn thin from sharpening, but it was still razor sharp, She also carried this knife daily even at work in her office the knife was close at hand,as it had been when her father carried it. Its presence was always there opening boxes or presents at Christmas time and birthdays. She and her father fished and the little knife had cleaned more than its fair share of fish. Her father took good care of it thru out the years and had taught her to do the same.The memories came back of the fishing trips and the days spent hunting and camping trips.
She cleaned the squirrel with ease and wiped the blade off on her jeans and slid it back into her pocket. She would give it a good cleaning and a few licks on her leather strop that her father had made for her when she got home.
She left the woods and went straight to where her father was at.told him of the hunt and that the 22 rifle was still a shooter,and the little eye brand was still sharp.
She turned and left the grave wher her father had been laid to rest for better than two years. Even though he was gone, he would always be with her with the memories that he had made in her heart.
