One Man’s Treasure is Another Man’s Junk

 Like everything else in life, when considering turkey hunting equipment - one man’s treasure is another man’s junk. As a matter of pride, two key pieces of hunting equipment held in very high regard for a young hunter is your truck and your gun. In the spring of 1979 it never occurred to me that our old ’71 Ford 2-wheel drive truck was anything but a piece of superior hunting equipment. Likewise, at ten years old I considered my H&R Topper 12 gauge, 3 inch magnum mouth-buster to be cutting edge & big medicine for gobblers! I never thought I’d see the day when hunting season would become a fashion show of sorts where our old equipment would be looked down on as “hillbilly.”



You reckon a fine truck like this could grow grass in the floorboards?  No matter - if'n it gets you to the huntin' woods its a treasure!

  Dad had bought our old Ford pick-up (ol’ Bessie) sometime in the mid-70’s. The truck was a 3-speed on-the-column with an AM radio and no power steering, no power brakes, and no a/c. She didn’t have any seat-belts because we had taken them out to use in our hand-made hanging tree-stands. Back then we didn’t worry too much about having a wreck but we sure weren’t gonna take any chances on falling out of a tree! You could see plum to the ground through the passenger side floorboard and grass was growing in the dirt in the floorboards just under the front edge of the seat. She had a solenoid with connections that would not stay tight so you always had to keep a pair of piers handy in order to jump across the solenoid to get the starter to engage. Seemed like every time it rained this would happen and dad would grin real big and tell me to jump out and use the pliers. He really thought that was funny. I didn’t care a bit – I was proud of ol’ Bessie. By today’s standards ol’ Bessie was not much but at least we had a truck to take turkey hunting. She’s long since headed to the scrap yard but she is a treasure in my turkey hunting memory that money couldn’t buy. If we rode in her today to the turkey woods I’m sure we’d be called “hillbilly.”

Priceless to me - $15.00 at the pawn shop.

As for my gun, Dad had received a Topper H&R shotgun as a safety award from AMAX Lead Company in the summer of 1976 and I had received it for Christmas that winter. It had been hidden in my sister’s closet for several months leading up to Christmas and I had bribed her to show me my “Big” gift she had been telling me about. By the time Christmas came around I had taken the shotgun out of the box and petted it several times. It was the proudest I had ever been of a Christmas present to that point of time in my life - prior to that I had used Grandpa Stephens’ old pump shotgun that was as long as I was tall & too heavy for me to hold up.

I remember getting a box of 3 inch magnum #2 loads from Wal-Mart (box of 20 for $5.00!) and heading to the back yard. The first time I pulled the trigger I thought I had broken my jaw and knocked my glass eye clean out of my head! WOW! She sure must be powerful, I reckoned. Every time I pulled the trigger it brought tears to my eyes but I wasn’t about to admit it hurt. She patterned low and right at 25 steps. She was a treasure I’ll never forget.

While I was in college in the mid ‘80’s some low-life stole my H&R shotgun from my apartment. I’m sure the thief thought they would take it to the pawn shop and get rich. I figure as they walked out of the pawn shop sorely disappointed because they got only $15.00 for a pawned single shot shotgun, the pawn shop owner was thinkin' the thieves must be hillbillies to think they were gonna get a load of money for that old gun!  It wasn't even worth the gas and time to drive to the pawn shop! That was the first gun my dad ever gave me and I wouldn’t have sold it at any price… instead some jerk sold it for $15.00.

Kinda funny how a fella’s perspective changes as they get older about the value of certain things. Just like the title of “Hillbilly” – 35 years ago how dare someone say I was a hillbilly (although I was), I thought that I was just as up-and-coming as the big-city folks. Now days they can keep their up-and-coming - I’m proud to be a hillbilly. One man’s treasure is another man’s junk. So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Learnin’ Responsibility from the Squirrels



I reckon society could take a few lessons from a bushytail.



I was sittin’ in my tree stand a while back being entertained by squirrels. Good thing they were movin’ because the deer sure weren’t. I was amazed by the action as they chased each other through the leaves, up the sides of trees, and even right up the tree in which I was sittin’. One gray squirrel was hot after another and the first one ran right up my tree and slammed on the brakes just below the deck of my stand. He was frozen like a furry statue as he stared up at me through the deck of the stand. Those big dark googling eyes were saying, “Wow-a, Hooold it!...What in the world is that thing?!”

Just then his comrade came screaming around the tree, passed his partner, passed the deck and right up beside my legs before slamming on the brakes. He too stood motionless. He had that startled “what the heck have I got myself into now” look about him. Now, if you’ve ever sat up in a tree with 2 squirrels within inches of you and tried to keep your 1 eye on both of them you would understand why my head moved…it’s impossible to watch’em both and keep your head still. Anyway, I moved and they tore out like their tails were on fire! As soon as they hit the ground they were off again.

A few minutes later as I scanned the woods I heard a commotion of squirrels barking, leaves crunching, wings beating, and a distressed critter squawking in agony. I soon spotted a hawk that had swooped down and apparently nailed a squirrel about 70 yards from my stand. Now all the squirrels were barking and headed for higher ground. It was an awesome and fierce sight for sure. I had to take pause and wonder about the event that I had just witnessed. A squirrel had just become dinner for a hawk.

As I pondered the whole episode I was listening to the squirrels barking up a storm and I had an epiphany. Squirrels don’t believe that they are entitled to life – they simply make the best of an opportunity for an individually self responsible existence within the higher laws of Mother Nature. They gather food for themselves, they find hollow trees or build their own nests, and they live life to their full potential. Squirrels have fun, even under the specter of predators that are everywhere.

To me this was a very interesting proposition - adult squirrels don’t depend on others to gather their food. Adult squirrels don’t think that others should have to provide them with shelter. Adult squirrels are pretty much on their own when it comes to self preservation. Yet squirrels still manage to live life to the fullest.

Now here’s a rub. I started wondering... why doesn’t that also pertain to humans? As adult humans, we seem to have adopted an entitlement perspective on life as opposed to an opportunity of an individually self responsible life. Boy now, you reckon that idea will toss a cherry bomb into the hornet’s nest in some circles?! I thought about it for a long time. How would our society be different if we believed that only children had a right to life while adults had the right to the opportunity of an individually self responsible life? As parents, our job would be to raise kids to a point that they were ready, as adults, to embrace their opportunity to an individually self responsible life – no more handouts.

The more time I spend in the woods the more I come to believe that the Creator’s design is perfect in every way. It is completely fair to all. It is beautiful, warm, fun, and loving and it is brutal, cold, and unforgiving. Ultimately, it is indifferent toward individuals. It is the process that prevails – the cycle of life. I reckon the further this society gets from the Creator’s design the more convoluted our lives become. But hey, don’t pay no mind to me – when you study squirrels you’re bound to be a little nuts! So says the One-Eyed Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.

Coleman & the “Freak Show”



If'n ya don't want to hear the raw and blunt truth of the matter then ya better not get to chewin' the fat around the campfire with this little hillbilly.  Coleman Stephens in the turkey woods - Missouri spring youth turkey season 2012.

 My 7-year-old son, Coleman, and I went turkey hunting last weekend. We were in the Piney Creek Wilderness in southwestern Missouri, near Table Rock Lake. This wasn’t the first time we had hunted the Piney Creek Wilderness; last fall we hunted the wilderness with one of Coleman’s older brothers, Alex. As we sat on a saddle above Table Rock Lake with a nice 9 point buck quartering toward us, Coleman was unable to make the necessary adjustments in time to take a shot and, instead, Alex shot the buck. Coleman has let everyone within earshot know that Alex stole his first deer. Not wanting a repeat during turkey season, we didn’t invite Alex along on this trip– it was just Coleman and me for some exciting spring turkey hunting and some father-son campfire bonding.

We got to the wilderness after dark and began setting up the camp under the headlights of the truck. After finally lighting a lantern we began preparations for our campfire. Of course, Coleman was immediately hungry. We roasted hotdogs and ate potato chips. We drank soda pop and ate cookies. We told stories, asked questions, and laughed around the campfire. It was a great evening of father-son campfire bonding.

During the course of our evening our conversation drifted to a place where I would venture to guess most father & sons never visit during father-son campfire bonding. Out of the wild blue Coleman wanted to quiz me about my one eye. He said, “So dad, do you have a plastic eye to wear when you don’t wear your patch?”

I told Coleman that I did have a glass (plastic) eye but that I hadn’t worn it much in the past several years. He asked why I hadn’t worn it, to which I explained it really didn’t fit and it was miserable during the cold part of the year. During trapping season in the late winter it is truly miserable when your eye-lid freezes to your plastic eye. You don’t know it’s frozen until you try to blink and then the pain will bring you to your knees! It’s beyond aggravating when it happens several times during the course of a single day in the woods. On more than one occasion it happened while I was in a bow stand in the late winter and I thought I would fall out of my deer stand! Ouch!

Coleman seemed intrigued. He continued to question me about the extra hole in my head. I love children of his age. They are brutally honest and ask blunt questions that aren’t in any way intended offensively. They are just looking for answers and you can’t help but laugh out loud. Coleman asked, “So dad, when you have your glass eye in your head, does it work?”

“Does it work?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, can you see with it?” he explained.

“Oh, oh, I see what you are asking.” I said. “No, unfortunately it is only to cover the extra hole where my eye used to be.”

He sat there quietly for a few moments contemplating my answers and then, his face lit up with a great revelation and he said, “Oh, so it’s just so that you don’t look like a freak show!”

I had to laugh out loud! Yes Coleman, my innocent and brutally honest young son, it is just so I don’t look like a freak show! You gotta love those kids.

Coleman and I didn’t get a turkey on opening weekend but we explored new and heart-warming territory in our father-son relationship while talking around the campfire. He slept on my side of the air mattress. This combined with the fact that we only brought sheets and not any covers and the temperature dropped into the upper 40’s made for a particularly sleepless night. The next morning we didn’t have time to make coffee. Coleman didn’t mind – he had chocolate donuts. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even seem to mind that we didn’t see any turkeys. He was just happy to eat donuts and turkey hunt with his “freak show” dad. And “freak show” dad will never forget our first solo turkey camping trip. So says the One-Eyed…Freak Show Hillbilly.

Greg Stephens is a 35-year veteran & life-time student of the great outdoors. His column appears weekly in print & online publications. You can email him at gregstephens@one-eyedhillbilly.com. For more columns go to www.one-eyedhillbilly.blogspot.com.