Build­ing the leg­end of grandpa Steve

The Woolwich Observer - - SPORTS - OPEN COUN­TRY

I WENT FLY FISH­ING for trout on Sun­day for the first time this year. And, believe it or not, on my very first cast, I hooked and landed a plump 16-inch rain­bow.

I should have quit right there for the en­tire trout sea­son.

Had I done that, I might have hon­estly been able to tell my grand­son that grandpa once had a trout sea­son where he caught a fish on ev­ery cast.

This, of course, is im­por­tant be­cause as any out­doors­man who has a new grand­son knows, you can never start cul­ti­vat­ing the leg­end of grandpa too early.

My grand­son Hud­son is only six months old now so there haven’t been many op­por­tu­ni­ties thus far. In fact, it’s even too early to de­cide if I need a mask and cape, though I’m think­ing that the manda­tory leo­tards that typ­i­cally ac­com­pany these items will tilt my de­ci­sion against this.

Re­gard­less, I have ac­ti­vated the process of be­com­ing my grand­son’s hero.

The last time he and his

par­ents vis­ited, when we were alone, I men­tioned off-hand­edly to Hud­son that grandpa had ar­rowed a 24-point buck last deer sea­son and I even showed him the photo of that three pointer to prove it, which is OK be­cause math class hasn’t ru­ined him yet.

Bet­ter yet, Hud­son can­not cur­rently com­pre­hend any com­plex thoughts that do not in­volve food in­take, the smear­ing of food all over his face or di­a­per changes. Ba­si­cally, right now he’s kind of like the ghost of hunt camp fu­ture.

Un­like the guys at hunt camp how­ever, Hud­son will trust that grandpa is all-know­ing and wise – at least for the next few years. So this is my one chance to build on that mis­con­cep­tion.

That’s why I’m go­ing to try ex­tra hard to shoot a de­cent gob­bler this spring, if not with my gun then hope­fully with my cam­era when the guy who brought it to the lo­cal vol­un­tary check sta­tion isn’t look­ing. Of course, if that doesn’t pan out, I might have to go out and get one of my own.

Ei­ther way, I’ll place the photo of me and a turkey in the scrap­book of grandpa’s great­est achieve­ments, which al­ready has blurry pho­tos of a two-pound bass be­side a Ken doll and an­other photo of grandpa shoo-ing off what ap­pears to be a huge mangy bear from a camp­site but is in fact my buddy Tom with­out a shirt on.

The sad thing is I didn’t even have to blur that one.

The way I fig­ure it, I’ve got a brief win­dow to cul­ti­vate the im­age of a grandpa that any red-blooded boy would be proud of. It’s go­ing to take a lot of hard work and a re­lent­less de­ter­mi­na­tion to never to be seen with­out a sa­fari hat on.

I will also need a heroic catch­phrase. I’m talking about the kind of catch­phrase that makes women weak in the knees and grown men look at you in raw ad­mi­ra­tion. Right now, I’m think­ing of some­thing like “I don’t rake leaves.”

This is the kind of thing a fel­low my age thinks about when the early stages of grand­fa­ther­hood and turkey sea­son in­ter­sect. With that in mind, to­mor­row morn­ing I’ll be out there hunt­ing hard to get a bird or at least a story that I can tell to my grand­son when he is old enough to un­der­stand words – but not ab­bre­vi­a­tions like BS.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from Canada

© PressReader. All rights reserved.