My earliest memory of my dad is in the 70’s when he was in the Army. I remember him driving home in an Army van, I thought that was the greatest thing in the world. Those memories are only splotchy now, I can’t remember his face from when I was child. When I look at old photos, I really can’t remember them, but I assume since there are photos, it really happened. The harder I try to remember, want to remember, the more fleeting they are.
For those of you who are squeamish, you may want to stop reading here. For the rest of you, you are quiet possibly like myself and not easily surprised or sickened by dead things and their guts.
I don’t remember how old I was. I can only tell you that at the age of thirty-four it is as vivid now as it was then. My dad and I spent numerous nights together walking through pitch dark fields, guided by only the moonlight and occasional glow from my dad’s cigarette as he inhaled; we were fox hunting.
In the darkness I could only make out his form, his gestures, and the occasional words as I followed silently behind. My dad had explained to me how important silence is to being successful, how important following closely in his footsteps is to not falling. We often walked through fields spattered with manure, overtaken with sage grass and unfamiliar to both of us. It was easy to be separated in the dark or fall behind. My pace was quick and sure, stopping only when he stopped. Making no sound, not a breath. We listened for the call of our prey.
I’m not sure how my dad knew where to find them, but we increasingly managed to locate the fox’s hunting grounds. For our family, being successful meant supplemental income from the sale of the animal’s pelt. Our tools were a spotlight, a rifle, and an amplified call which played various tapes of animal calls. I still remember the pattern of the calls from one of those tapes. It was the best tape we had, and most often used.
The process was to play the tape in the darkness and occasionally scan with the spotlight at eye level to see the glowing eyes of a fox coming to the call. I often got to hold the light when a fox was spotted, while my dad aimed the rifle for the shot. I’m sure he missed occasionally, but I don’t remember it if he did. My dad was and is an extremely accurate marksman. A well aimed shot to kill a fox would be in a location as to not damage its pelt, typically the head.
Once the shot was fired and depending on where we were and who’s land we were ‘on’, we would either get the dead animal and move to a new property or stay for another.
Either way, arriving back to our home, my dad and I entered the basement of our small trailer. I didn’t enter the basement often and I’m not sure why now, but I do remember the occasional rat and spiders. On these nights with my dad, those things didn’t matter. I followed to help skin the foxes.
The process of skinning a fox isn’t really that difficult after you’ve seen someone do it. Basically, hang the animal from his back legs, loose the animals sleeves with a sharp knife, add a few other choice cuts and carefully pull the fur down and inside out (fur on the inside). Carefully cutting as to peel the skin away from the animal’s musculor-skeletal frame.
I remember my dad allowing me to help pull the skin and hold the animal in position while he made cuts to free the animal of its pelt. What was once a familiar furry animal became a gruesome monster-like beast.
I’ve often felt ill prepared for all the circumstances I’ve encountered during the thirty-four years of my life. I’ve often misplaced the frustration, the anger, the bitterness, the hurt and wanted to blame it upon my dad. Some of it is most likely justified, but 99% of it isn’t. My dad was big enough to take it. Now that I have my own children, I’ve learned a tremendous amount from them. It’s made me thankful that my dad is who he is [ Exodus 3:14 ] and I treasure the things he has placed in me [ 2 Corinthians 4:7 ].
I didn’t know it then but through fox hunting, my dad was teaching me valuable principles.
He taught me:
- silence is important to hearing
- how to follow when its dark
- how to avoid falling
- how to avoid wrong steps
- how to avoid getting separated from him
- remaining close insures I can see the path
- patience leads to success
- light reveals the truth
- things which appear good on the outside, aren’t always pretty on the inside
- hold still, while he carefully cuts
- blessing comes, when something dies
Things I love about my dad.
- he is a dad
- a daddy
- not a father who is distant
- isn’t unapproachable
- I can call him up anytime
- he calls me son
Things I love about God.
- He’s all those good things my dad is and more.
What are some things you learned from your dad, that have helped you understand more about your relationship with God? I also wonder what my dad learned from me?
Zachary Forrest y Salazar
Austin, TX
Oct 22, 2007 at 05:19 PM
During my childhood, my father was always the crux of my understanding of God. As I got older, that changed, but I still remember the lessons.
Nice post.