April 8th in Posso's Prompts

“Old man, look at my life
Twenty-four and there’s so much more
Live alone in a paradise
That makes me think of two”

Old Man - Neil Young

In keeping with the ‘daddy’ (ew, I wretch typing it even) theme from yesterday, I had this memory of my father typed up for his birthday and never posted it. I reread it and it made me laugh so I figured I’d share it.

One of my favorite memories of my dad is a time when we were hiking in Zion National Park. There we were, getting back from a hike. My dad had my baby brother Sam in a backpack carrier and my brother Trevor and my mom were getting ready to get inside the jeep. I was fucking around, throwing rocks like an 8 year old kid is known to do. I looked up and there were a couple of fawns standing in front of me. “Sweet! Baby deer.” I yelled. It spooked them, obviously, but I wasn’t ready for what was next. Out of the thick brush rushed what I could only assume was their mom. She ran right up to me and got about a foot from my face. I could stare right into her cold beady eyes. This mom let out a loud snort and I was nailed with deer snot. I won’t lie. I yelled for my dad. He came running, with the backpack full of my baby brother in it and yelled, “Don’t let it get close!” What occurred next could be best represented in a movie - my dad had me by the neck and my brother in the backpack running around one side of the jeep while my mom and other brother were on the opposite side, screaming and yelling while trying to get into the jeep. Eventually one by one we all got into the jeep while being chased by an enraged mama deer. My dad, visibly out of breath and most certainly pissed off, grumbled, “Sometimes I fucking hate nature.”
I will never forget that one. His beard was all frizzy and drenched with sweat and his piercing blue eyes were filled with a distaste yet deep down you could sense he enjoyed the adventure.
A few years later, he taught me how to use a rifle and go hunting. We would go out into the land that my grandpa once owned northwest of Spooner. We would never shoot much though. We’d talk a lot about being chased by a deer. We’d sit in silence under trees while the snow fell steadily. Some of my fondest memories were on those Thanksgiving breaks where we would walk out, watch the sun rise, freeze our asses off, drink tomato soup out of a thermos and sit still enough to let the chickadees eat seeds off of us.
Things always haven’t been the greatness with my dad but there’s times where I sit and remember being young, happy and naive and that’s definitely one.