I was raised in a small rural community in Pennsylvania where the boys far out-numbered the girls. As a result, I never was much of a "girlie-girl" as I was growing up. To the disappointment of my mother and delight of my father, I preferred BB guns over Barbie Dolls, and fishing poles over fish-net stockings. From the time I was 10 years old, I went fishing with my grandfather and hunting with my brother and Dad. Needless to say, I was a "daddy's girl." I thought it was more fun skeet shooting and racing old "junkers" around the local dirt track, than playing with dolls.
Imagine how excited I was, growing up, getting married and having six sons! Of course, as the family grew, I had less and less time to go fishing, hunting and all the outdoor activities I enjoyed as a young girl. This did not seem to matter as much as it had before, as I took on the daily challenges, yet blessings of raising "a houseful of boys!"
Here’s a little poem I jotted down one evening last fall, as I sat thinking of our little piece of paradise up north that we call Woodpecker Hollow.
We Are Deer Hunters
Three of us at the family camp
Dressed in green camouflage
Guns and ammo ready
Quietly walk down the trail
Then climb high into the deer stand
I hear not a whisper
Just the sound of my own breath
Warm and moist against my face cover
Suddenly a snort of a passing buck
Rifle raised, resting firmly against my shoulder
Deer in the sight, hammer cocked
Squeeze gently now
Goodnight deer, goodnight
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