by Ken Keenan

Created on: November 13, 2008   Last Updated: February 29, 2012

I think I was nine years old. I lived in the northern part of Ontario, Canada about 5 miles from a little town in the middle of nowhere, but my home was on a Forestry Base where my Dad worked as a radio technician. He repaired the aircraft radio equipment so they could fly around the north and drop men and supplies to fight forest fires. What has this got to do with first time hunting you might ask? I guess this is to set the scene for what follows. Surrounded with lots of trees and lakes meant lots of wild birds and animals. In the fall everyone was talking about going moose hunting, deer hunting, duck hunting but for a kid not old enough to own a rifle, yet a guy who wanted to do some of these things, well, it was impossible. Or was it?

It was fall and partridge season was upon us. For those of you who don't know what a partridge is, it is a bird about the size of a hen that is very abundant in the north. The meat is very nice to eat. It is not the same as chicken but a little darker with a mild wild taste. The Spruce Hen has a little more wild taste than the regular partridge, because it feeds a lot on the spruce tree buds, however it can make a very tasty meal also. These birds feed on blue berries and wild currents and almost anything that grows in the northern bush. Near the city these birds become very gun shy and fly when one gets close to them. In the far north they don't see many humans and one can sneak up on them easily. My plan was to carry a few good sized stones and see if I could either knock one out of a tree or stone it on a trail in the bush.

I told my Mom I was going out partridge hunting. She said okay but supper will be ready soon so don't be long. I headed down a path I knew well behind my house and looked closely as I walked along, my rocks filling my pockets and a couple ready in my hands. As I turned a bend I startled a ruffled grouse and it flew away in seconds. That would have been a nice one to get I thought as I carried on. I walked the trails that I knew until they finally took me back home and I felt sad that I didn't get anything. Mom was at the door telling me supper was ready and asking how I did when suddenly a grouse flew up into a tree right in front of the house.

She hollered look right there up in the tree! I ran over to the tree and looked up to see the hen nervously sitting there her head bobbing and ready to fly when I let go one of my stones. I hit it and it fell to the ground where I pounced on it and wrung its neck. I held it up for my Mom to see. She cheered. I felt so good. That was my first hunting experience. It not only made my Mom smile but it also made a nice meal for us the following evening after she cooked it for the family. In those days, catching a few fish or a partridge meant a lot especially towards the end of the month when Dads paycheck was running out and money was scarce until the next pay day. I still remember that as my first hunting experience.

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