Memories of a good friend and hunting buddy

I watched my shot from the 22-caliber pistol hit the snowbank behind the snowshoe hare. The bullet completed a five-shot circle around the head of the sitting bunny. I reloaded the pistol and, on the seventh shot, finally saw the hare go down. Now that the steady rhythm of “BANG…BANG…BANG…” had quieted, I heard my hunting partner, Paul, call in a laughing voice from along the snow-covered, spruce and willow-choked stream bank: “Did you hit ‘em yet?”

As I recall, we only got a few hares that day. The snow had been deep and fluffy, the temperatures brisk, and the snowshoeing a workout. We figured better luck next time.

Paul and I were students at the University of Alaska in Fairbanks many years ago. We had met through the random assignment of dormitory rooms by the university and found we both enjoyed shooting, hunting, and about any outdoor-related activity.

Because winters in Fairbanks usually were a bit extreme, we spent more time talking and dreaming of the “Alaska hunting experience” than actually participating in it, but a sheep hunt and several snowshoe hare hunts were accomplished during the three semesters we attended UAF together. Many of our discussions occurred across a cribbage board, a game Paul taught me how to play. I even managed to beat him on rare occasions.

Paul was finishing his degree after spending a hitch in the Navy during the Viet Nam war. I had transferred from a college in Illinois to UAF to pursue a Wildlife Management degree. When we both had free time, we often would talk reloading and the merits or faults of this rifle caliber or that model firearm.

By chance, we both ended up at the University of Maine in Orono pursuing masters’ degrees. I was attending full time and Paul, after a spring semester’s attendance, was working through his program in the summer session.

Paul had married his hometown sweetheart from Massachusetts and was working full time as a school counselor in New Hampshire. I had field research commitments during the summer and research assistantship obligations plus a full course load of studies during the school year. We hunted woodchucks a couple of times and did some shooting together when Paul and Mary were in Maine for the university’s summer session.

We last saw each other in 1974. Paul graduated shortly after and continued his career working for the school systems of New Hampshire. With my thesis yet to be written, I had gone to work for the Georgia Game and Fish Division. After three years, I returned to Alaska and finally finished my graduate degree through correspondence. I was hired by the Alaska Department of Fish and Game.

Paul is retired now. His two children are grown and making their own way in the world. I retired from Fish and Game but am still in Alaska. I know of no better place to be.

Through all the years we managed to stay in touch with an occasional letter or phone call. Christmas cards were the big event because we took turns including a letter to bring the other one up to speed on the past year’s events.

Paul has horrible handwriting. I wasn’t always sure I had decoded his words correctly, so my response in the next year’s Christmas card might have seemed odd to him on occasion. I could only hope he didn’t remember what he might have asked a year before.

The advent of the Internet has made transcontinental communication both easier and quicker for our “letter writing.” I now have no trouble reading Paul’s typed words. We still talk about family, shooting and guns.

I had fervently hoped that someday Paul and I could once again head out on a hunt, for moose, or whitetailed deer, or even snowshoe hares. Sadly, age and health issues will prevent that from happening.

All of us have hunted with different people over the course of our lifetimes afield. A friend with the right species of duck decoys, or a well maintained “moose buggy,” or just having the time free to go when you call, are all considerations in choosing a hunting partner. More importantly, though, is how well your personalities meshed while in the field. Some of my partners I liked, others I tolerated, and a few I never asked back a second time. We all wanted to find that special hunting partner who made the outing more memorable simply because they were there. Paul filled that niche for me.