A Drastic Hunting Experience

J. Stewart Ralph

J. Stewart Ralph lives in Point Leamington, Newfoundland. He submitted this written story for other seniors to enjoy.

THERE WAS A TIME in my life when I considered myself to be quite a Nimrod. I owned a 12-gauge shotgun, a .303 rifle and a .22 multi-shot repeating rifle, among other weapons.

I never did get to shoot any big game because there were no moose or caribou in that part of the Avalon peninsula where I was born and raised.

One evening about mid-October in 1954, I went down to an inlet where I expected to see some geese or ducks. There was no wind blowing; the surface of the water was perfectly still. Not a ripple or a wave disturbed the perfect reflection of the sky.

The sun had gone down behind the mountains and the sky was a dozen shades of red. A few clouds were lit on the underside by the last rays of the sun.

It was a place of perfect beauty and peace.

Then, about half a kilometre away, I saw a V-shaped wave approaching the bushes where I was concealed. As it got closer I could see that the wave was produced by a little muskrat swimming towards my hiding spot.

I shall never forget the beauty of the occasion – the mirror sea, the reflected colours, the evidence of nature's life and activity all around me.