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He was only 6 months and 2 days old and bald headed when he came to live with us. He couldn’t sit up and didn’t cry. He was, however, very sick. I spent many nights awake caring for little Eli while trying to get him well. It took two long years to do so. I watched as his little bald head began to grow a thick, full mane of cascading curls. It was so beautiful that I would not let Wanda cut it. He reminded me of Samson in the Bible and his personality fit as well. He had a deep rolling laugh and often when he would wake up in the morning that was the first thing that I would hear from him. Most babies wake up crying, but Elijah would wake up laughing. He was a pleasant baby that stole everyone’s heart, along with the fact that almost everyone wanted to touch his unusually thick, curly hair. When he was 3 an elderly lady saw him and immediately reached out to stroke his curls. He raised his little hand and said “Don’t touch the hair!”
To take a load off of Wanda, I basically became “Mr. Mom” when the sun went down. I would care for Eli and the other kids at night, and Eli seemed to bond more with me than he did Wanda, much to her dismay. It is still that way today. If he has a boo-boo or needs something, he goes to Dad.
Eli has hunted with me since he was 3, but this year is his first to be the hunter. His beautiful curls have given way to a Mohawk and instead of playing with toy trucks in the ground blind, he is using binoculars and the scope on his rifle to look at the wildlife up close. While waiting for a deer to show up, he would, at my suggestion, find a squirrel or bird in the scope and practice holding the crosshairs right behind the shoulder and squeezing the trigger without the gun being cocked. As I sat watching my little hunter find his target in the scope, gently squeeze the trigger and say “Boom!” I knew if a deer gave him an opportunity, he would make the shot count.
A small deer eased into view in the old logging road on the other side of the cedars. I pointed the deer out to Eli, and he took the binoculars and watched the deer until it disappeared. I whispered softly “That deer will come down here, but it may be an hour or so.”
A doe materialized in the cedars and I recognized her as the wise old doe that always had three other deer with her. She is one of the spookiest deer I have ever seen. If the opportunity presented itself, I wanted Eli to kill this deer. For more than an hour, we watched the deer as they fed around in and out of the cedars. Without fail, the old doe would stand for long minutes burning holes in our ground blind with her eyes in an attempt to see something that should not be there. As the doe and her group finally cautiously headed our way, they exploded like a covey of quail. Not many things would make them do that and one that would is an overaggressive buck. The four deer flashed across the road in the cedars with their tails tucked and heads held close to the ground. There had to be a buck chasing them and in seconds a heavy, dark-colored buck zipped across the road without giving us a chance to look at it or size it up at all. I could only tell it was a buck. Again, the four deer ran across the road with the buck pursuing them hard. They disappeared for several minutes and a single deer stepped out into the road.
“Eli, get ready, this deer is headed for the weed patch! It will take it a while to get here, but it is coming. Be quiet, don’t bump anything, move only when I tell you to,” I whispered to my little hunter. Very slowly, Eli moved into shooting position to wait for the shot that we hoped would come.
A turkey appeared near the cedars and as I watched it with the binoculars Eli whispered excitedly “Dad, there’s a big buck!” I immediately looked, but the buck was gone, still in pursuit of the does. This confirmed to me that the chasing phase of the rut is going on hard right now. The single deer, which I knew was a button buck, had slowly fed his way to the far side of the weed patch. Even with the big buck running the does, I was not going to make Eli wait for them to settle down and move closer to our position, which may never happen. I was going to let Eli shoot the first deer that presented an opportunity.
The gate at the weed patch is 103 yards from our ground blind.
“Eli, wait for the deer to come through the gate. It will eventually get there, and it will turn broadside. When it does I want you to hold the crosshairs right behind the shoulder and squeeze the trigger,” I whispered to the excited young hunter.
“Are you nervous?” I asked.
“No, Dad,” came the soft reply. “I can shoot the deer in the chest right now.”
“No. There is no reason to make a marginal shot. Wait until the deer turns sideways to you. That will be a 100-percent shot. Never make an uncertain shot on an animal,” I instructed.
It seemed like the deer would never get inside the gate, then when he did, he took his time before deciding to make a turn to the left or right. Finally he made the move and I whispered “Kill it!” Instantly, Eli fired the rifle and the deer went down in its tracks.
“I killed a deer Dad! I killed a deer! I killed a deer!”
I don’t know when I have seen Eli as excited. I had watched my son all morning long and was somewhat amazed of how he has matured. He conducted himself very well, applying many things that I had taught him over the years. I had made him wait a painfully long time before letting him shoot the deer, but he did each thing that I told him to do and he came through like a seasoned veteran hunter. As we walked across the weed patch to Eli’s first deer lying on the ground, I have to say it was one of the most joyful experiences of my life.