When Bad Luck Turns Good
Hard Lessons Learned
The glasses Tank wore while taking his pre-dawn creek bath, along with his Maglite and knife.
Suspended in midair I thought, “Damn, this isn’t good.” Then again, maybe it is. I was well into a 45-minute pre-dawn hike to my hunting spot in West Virginia, a two-mile obstacle course consisting of blown down trees and numerous creek crossings. After a series of zigzagging, boulder-dodging maneuvers through river bottom country, I know I’m almost there.
The Dunk
Just one more creek crossing and I’m home free. I’ll have 40 minutes until first shooting light to cool off, catch my breath, and rest.
Being submerged in cold rushing water in total blackness was exhilarating! I was halfway across the stream and remember stepping on the smooth, slimy, moss-ridden stone, wondering, “Is it slippery?” It was.
Suddenly, I’m horizontal, floating in mid-air, pause, then flop underwater. Recent rains made the usually calm creek fast and deep. With head submerged, I think, “you dumbass!” Temperatures were hovering around the freezing point. It’s going to make for a long, cold, wet, miserable day. Getting up, I pour water out of my rifle barrel, then notice my glasses missing. Great! Luckily, I find them as my Mini-Mag flashlight is shining its beam underwater. Boy, those rubber O-rings really work! Rather than being pissed, I’m now full of hope!
Unexpected Consequences
A favored uncle, Jerry, always told my cousins and I that accidents, turmoil, or unexpected happenings before a hunt brings good luck. He told us this for years. Looking back, I’m not sure if he said this to pacify us when things didn’t go as planned, to keep us quiet or if he was genuinely sincere. Either way, I believed it — and still do.
I got up, put my glasses on and shook off like an old hound dog. Slogging my way to the stand, I started my soggy vigil. The sun started making day and I notice my vision wasn’t quite right. “Did I hit my head during my dunk in the creek?” Closing my right eye, things looked clear but when closing my left eye, things blurred. Great. My shooting eye. I stuck my finger up to touch the lens but my finger passed through like magic.
The right lens popped out. So, there I was shivering, right eye closed, looking thru my new monocle. Eating a pack of soggy peanut butter cracker mush, I thought, “Any more mishaps and I’ll be a sure bet to shooting a Boone & Crocket buck!” A smile crossed my chattering teeth as I thought of Uncle Jerry’s belief.
It Works
It doesn’t take long though, and a few hours later a doe crossed my shooting lane up above me, followed by a huge 10-point buck. As he walked, he paused, sniffing the air, playing a perpetual game of hide and seek while pursuing love and happiness.
Next thing I know, my rifle seemed to go off by its own accord. Bringing the boned-out meat, hide and horns back to my Tahoe, I noticed a glint in the creek. A closer look revealed the lens from my glasses. I snatched it from the icy waters, pressing it into the frame. The lens “clicks” back into place, good as new. Talk about good luck.
Better Lucky …
Hunters are an optimistic, superstitious lot in general. Every season brings dreams of taking a big, gnarly, heavy-horned buck. Everyone thinks, “Where am I going to mount this trophy once it gets back from the taxidermist?” As happens more times than not, most hunters go home empty handed, or shoot the first legal buck they see.
Superstition and tradition go hand in hand and hunters are full of both. Some eat the same breakfast, wear a special shirt or carry a particular knife to bring them luck. The Dena Indians in Alaska called this magic. The local Shaman made special bags, each one different and private for individual hunters. One man’s medicine would not work for another. It was very specific.
For the ones who believe, the medicine is very strong. So are the traditions and superstitions of most hunters. Some hunters are so stuck in their ways the slightest deviation can make them forget about going hunting that day. “What’s the use? I’m jinxed.”
But maybe having good “medicine” can give you the edge, to keep your attitude positive and keep you out longer. Face it, the longer you stay out, the better the odds will be in your favor.
Tank’s Uncle Jerry on another successful West Virginia hunt before he died.
Uncle Jerry
My Uncle Jerry died in the very mountains we hunted in West Virginia. It was 1996 and me and my cousins, Brad and Brent, were with him. On the third day of the hunt, Jerry shot at a buck during a traditional drive of “sh–house ridge” named in honor of the old outhouse there. We pursued the buck, recovered it, but there was no Jerry. Backtracking, we found him on his stand.
Jerry was dead. At only 50 years old, we were in shock. I think he would laugh dying on a ridge so named. He was a great Uncle!
The following year in West Virginia I had a brand-new Chevy Tahoe, and found out from my wife we were pregnant with our daughter. Opening day came, and I took the biggest buck of my life after falling in the creek. I know Uncle Jerry had something to do with it, too. He brought me good medicine.
Over the previous year, I had thought nothing worse could happen when he died on that mountain. In some weird way, his bad misfortune brought me good luck not only on that hunt, but life in general. I felt him telling me all will be fine and go ahead and have a good life, no matter what happens.
You just never know when bad circumstances will bring you good luck! It’s something I still believe in. So, if you happen to run into some hard times on the trail of life, don’t get discouraged — get ready to capture Lady Luck, she’s just around the corner.
