The Next Generation

By: Ashley Dawn O’Neal

3/05/2009

Without thought we pass along the passion for the wild to the next generation. What would happen if every child had the chance to capture the wild of the outdoors? We fight many struggles as outdoors’ men to keep our rights to the wild. I often wonder, if the people we stand up to ever had a real moment in the outdoors. Not every person has the ability, or drive, to take their children into the woods. As a child, I grew up with a group around me that gave us this opportunity. If everyone did their small part we could plump the next generation of outdoors’ men to a healthy capacity. The following is how I was captivated as a little girl.

South Texas dirt covered my shoes, legs, arms, and face; as I held my grandpa’s hand. The afternoon was cooling from a scorching, sweat filled day. Crunchy, dead grass snapped under our stride and no fear crossed my mind. I was overwhelmed with the simple, relaxing, familiar comfort of nature. We crossed the tree line that divided the homestead from the wild, I felt a rush of adventure.

This place was a wonder land of over lapping secrets. I truly thought at this time my Pawpaw could tell me what we would find. I believed he could tell me the answers to all. As we walked, my mind was filled with the questions children ask. What will we see today? Rabbits? He would simply say “Na,” and keep walking. This happened every time and he never turned my questions away. He simply answered and showed me the wonders of the wild.

We would walk past the crumbling wash out toward the old trail. This trail was a large open area, at the side of the ranch, that cut deep inside its center, to reveal a lush environment. If you followed its wonders you could have an adventure all day.

Walking alongside Pawpaw, my mind was racing with the upcoming sights.

The sun’s rays sliced through the canopy of oak trees, that encompassed the back of uncle Larry’s ranch. The coolness of its shadows in-gulped us. The patches of lush land held the noises of bright green grass hoppers, scurrying mice, and the fleeing unknown. We tromped past the shallow water of the creek bed, up a steep hill, and onto the top of the trail. My eyes saw what lay ahead and grew with shock. My Pawpaw was standing as motionless as a rock and could only whisper “stay real still, ya’ hear“. One of those once in a lifetime moments; through the thick trees I could make out large antlers, small fawns, and does. Some were near and others far. I followed them with my eyes in wonder. In the shadows some were gray with black noses, others were yellowish with long ears. The little fawns had white spots. I wonder why they called them whitetails? Their tails were gray? I tried to talk. Paw Paw said “shhh.” At that moment the herd of twenty to thirty whitetail deer all looked straight up. In a flash the herd jumped and ran to cover, never to be seen in that manner again.

I turned to my Pawpaw and said “ You should have told me we were going to see all those deer! You almost gave me a heart attack!” Pawpaw laughed and said, “Well, I didn’t know.” We took off down our path and had many more adventures that day. Not one could top my Pawpaw’s deer surprise. When we returned home I told my mom all about the whitetails and how their tails turned white when they ran away. I thought they were like the green lizards back home, changing colors. She laughed and explained the difference. Only now looking back do I know how special that moment was. My Pawpaw didn’t plan for it to happen. It was one of those once in a lifetime moments that took several people to make possible. My uncle Larry provided the ranch, my dad, the weekend, my Pawpaw, the opportunity to take a walk in the wild, and my mom to help explain the wonder of it all. I am still captivated by this memory as an adult. I was the future generation then and my Pawpaw and others helped me find the passion for the wild. I hope I can pass these lessons on to the next as well as the present generation of outdoors’ men.

By: Ashley Dawn O’Neal (The one he always said was worse than a rattlesnake.)

In loving memory of Raymond E. O’Neal(Pawpaw)