Page 19 - OSCSCI 40th Annual Banquet
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a lone coyote stalked a cot- father. My dad has expressed
tontail. While I did not harvest many times that it was through
a deer that year, looking back, I those trips that he grew closer
would not change a thing. I fell to his father. I never got the
completely in love with hunting. chance to meet my grandfather,
Many people do not get to see but his spirit lives on through
the respect that goes into hunt- my dad teaching me and my
ing and the commitment hunt- brothers to hunt just like his fa-
ers have for conserving nature. ther taught him.
However, growing up in a To me, heritage is so much
household with a love for the more than just the passing of a
outdoors and wildlife, I never skill or object between genera-
doubted the ethics of hunting. tions. It is the stories behind
That is what heritage is accord- them that make our heritage
ing to the dictionary. It is the what it is. The people, the sto-
passing of a physi- ries, the love, that is what
cal object, belief breathes life into heritage.
Atalie Shaw system, or skill from Most people would not consider
hunting to be the pinnacle of
previous
genera-
Junior Division Girl tions. bonds formed through passed-
That first trip hap- down traditions. However, eve-
Grade: 9 Teacher: Madison Dunaway pened exactly one year af- ry early morning I walked out to
Age: 14 School: Metro Chris an ter my dad was diagnosed that blind, every November
with kidney cancer. With- QuikTrip breakfast, every
out that health scare, without Snickers getting opened a little
Hunting, Sharing those questions about treat- too loud, every definite monster
ment side effects, without those buck turned bush, is a part of
the Heritage: surgeries and biopsies, that trip the journey, a piece of the puz-
would have just been another zle. I always wonder if my dad
It was early November 2022. I
was finally allowed to go hunt- activity. We often take for grant- stopped at a gas station to
ing with my dad in Perry, Okla- ed the things that feel normal stock up on candy when he was
homa. After years of my beg- and routine, but even though eleven, if he got scolded for
ging, he finally let his eleven- going hunting was not a large opening a granola bar too loud,
year-old daughter join him. I re- transition from our usual father- if he took a nap against the cold
member the brisk air as we daughter activities, I reveled in earth before things got moving.
walked to the blind, the sunrise, every moment of it. It took my I assume he did. I assume his
and the chirping of birds after dad a year to recover, to be his dad did. That is truly what herit-
daybreak. It was as if heaven normal self. That first hunting age is: the common thread be-
had opened up. The frost glis- trip felt like I finally had my fa- tween generations.
tened in the sun as it began to ther back.
rise. Then, as the cows mean- I grew up with stories about my
dered in the adjacent pasture, dad’s hunting trips with his
