As the sun set on the hill country last October following one of the most exhilarating hunts of their lives, two kindred spirits laughed, hugged, and parted ways. With smiles on our faces and a pair of beautiful white tail antlers protruding from our truck beds, one headed west and the other headed south. As the hills became flat and the ditches swampy the nostalgia began to set in; my blood brother was leaving the sportsman’s paradise.
Now, as any true sportsman knows, there are people you hunt and fish with and, there are true hunting buddies. Hunting buddies are kindred spirits; they are brothers in battle to the end. They are the guys that don’t bail at the last minute, don’t leave you waiting at the dock, and will plunge into uncharted wildness with you at only an inkling of a thought of adventure. They will wade with you through flooded icy water with holes in their waders, sit with you on the helm as you plunge through 15 foot waves, and even spray you down with freezing cold well water when it is 40 degrees out so you can get the stink off before a late season bow hunt. These are the guys that will go to the ends of the earth with you hell or high water. These men are rare!
As a man whose mind, soul and, heart thrives on the fulfillment of these excursions afield, it was hard to swallow my partner in crime leaving the mother land. Cole was moving away from the hundreds of hunting and fishing spots we had scoured the bottomlands, briar patches, and swampy marshes to acquire. It was hard knowing the man, my best friend, my blood brother and, someone I could count on to dive into any adventure with on a moment’s notice, would now be far far away.
But with every end comes new beginnings.
Although my brother would now be 1200 miles away, there are definitely worse places he could have decided to start a new career and family. Before he even arrived at his new home out west, we were already plotting and planning on the new species and adventures that awaited us in the Colorado Rockies. My blood brother is not a quick truck ride away anymore but, I have no doubt our countless adventures and “traditions” will continue on until our last breaths.