OnStand : The Sportsman's Watchdog

In my line of work as a fireman, I often run across the police version of San Antonio’s finest. After this incident, though, I’ll never think of them in that manner again.

We went to an assault call that turned out to be nothing. I got into a conversation of sorts with one of the boys in blue. Everything was fine until this guy said these words:

“We could really keep these people under control if it weren’t for the Bill of Rights.”

I thought surely he must have been kidding until he followed with this:

“In fact, we should just scrap it altogether and start over.”

I got that metal taste in my mouth and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. I had to get away from this guy, so I went back to my seat on the fire truck and waited to go back to the station.

The morning relief found me with heavy heart. So I made my way to my buddy’s ranch for a little R&R—you know, Rifle Relaxation.

I got out to my stand early and just watched and listened. I could feel my spirit being lifted. The trees, the breeze and the smell of the outdoors were medicinal. It was nice to be “home”.

I watched a 10-point buck, about three years old, for thirty minutes or so. He was a fine animal by most standards. Probably 18-inches wide with tall tines but, nevertheless, he was a baby for this particular ranch. Instead, I was hoping for a fat doe and got my mouth watering for butterfly-cut back straps battered and chicken fried like Momma cooks them.

All of the sudden my young four-legged friend jumped like something bit him and instantly vaporized into the brush. Then I saw why as two big, nasty boar hogs wandered out to feed.

“Lights out” was my first thought but I reconsidered thinking how much nicer a fat sow would be for the grill rather than dragging off a stinky boar for the buzzards and coyotes. So I waited.

It wasn’t long before my wish was granted. A big group of twenty or so sows and piglets made their way out for their share of the free meal. Well, this time charity had a price.

I shouldered my trusty ol’ 110 (now 15 years old) and found the biggest sow in the group. The crosshairs found their way to that sweet spot as they have so many times before. I settled in just between the ear and eye, breath, let it out, breath, and let it out half way… squeeezzzeee…

My shoulder gladly accepted the recoil, not for the first time or the hundredth, and the thwack was unmistakable. The rifle came out of recoil just in time for me to see her in the road slightly kicking but dead as a hammer.

Then that rush of elation and the cleansing smell of burnt cordite. My spirit was soaring, leaving well behind the idiotic comments of an imbecile who sees control as the only solution for anything.

I climbed from the stand and went down to where the formerly rooting sow now lay. I gave thanks to her, and to the Father for delivering her to me.

The next morning found me back at home with my latest freezer guest hanging in a tree. Upon further inspection I noticed my freezer to be a little on the cramped side. A few phone calls brought smiles and thanks from my new neighbors.

With a fire going in the outdoor pit I sat and listened to some good music and smoked a couple of bowls in my Daddy’s old pipe—kind of wishing I’d had his old harmonica, too.

There I sat reflecting on the previous day’s events, bringing up old happy memories from what was definitely a simpler time. Wealth has so many other forms than money, wouldn’t you agree?

It really was a good day after all.

Luke Swenson is a 32 year old professional firefighter in San Antonio, Texas. The outdoors have not only provided him with a hobby, but also a source of fond, loving memories and, on occasion, inspiration for his writing.