I look at this picture and all I can do is let out a B-I-I-I-I-G sigh.
Not a sigh of relief.
Not the sigh of a long day of hard work.
Not even a sigh of disappointment.
I look at this picture and let out a sigh that says, "Heaven help me…"
Yes, Tucker is holding a raccoon.
A very dead raccoon.
While I was on maternity leave we were driving up my father-in-law's driveway. I should really call it a lane. No, it's more like a short road off the road. (His "driveway" is about a half mile long.) On the west side of the drive it's heavily wooded.
Out of the blue Tucker proclaims, "Raccoon! Raccoon! Stop da car Dad! There's a coon in that tree!"
Those darned hunter instincts rushed in and Grady slammed on the brakes.
"Ober dere, Daddy! LOOK! Can't you see him?!"
Grady and I looked and looked and couldn't see this raccoon to save our lives. Grady saw a squirrel and tried to convince Tucker that was what he was seeing.
"Nooooo, Daddy! It's a coon! See it?!"
Grady backed the car up a bit more and sure enough, perched high up on a branch sat this plump little ball of a raccoon.
"Wow, Tuck! Awesome eyes, Kiddo!"
"Shoot him, Dad! Shoot him!"
I just put my head in my hands and sighed.
Grady told Tucker we didn't have a gun and just as he was starting to drive forward he got a hairbrained idea to call his Dad (who was on his way home) and let them know we were waiting for them to come with the gun so we could shoot this coon.
Really, I'm not kidding.
All the while Tucker was telling this raccoon what for!
"We're shoot you, you old coon!"
"My Papa's coming wif his gun!"
"Don't you move Coon!"
A lightbulb went off and Grady realized we did, in fact, have a .22 in the back of the car.
To Tucker's delight and the poor raccoon's fate Daddy was an excellent shot.
We then RACED home to get the 4-wheeler so they could get there kill.
And this is how we came to have this picture. A four year olds excellent eyes and his father's insane ambition for hunting.
Peace, love and big sighs!