Hunting Quail or Doves At Grannies Farm

My brothers keep writing stories about their hunting and fishing trips with Dad. They are very heartwarming stories, and well told. I guess, maybe the five girls in the family are a little jealous that they don’t have these types of stories to tell. Well, I have stories to tell as well.

Maybe my story explains the differences between boys and girls. I went hunting once with my Dad and the boys. At that time, I wanted to be a boy. Boys had all the fun!! Girls just stayed in the house and played with dolls. How exciting!

I was six or seven years old and I somehow talked Dad into taking me hunting with him and the boys.

I think my Dad knew that this would be my last hunting trip, but he humored me.

We went to Granny Jacob’s farm bird-hunting. I remember it to be cold and drizzly. We hunted all day. I, being the only girl was not afforded any special accommodations. Meaning, no one ever asked if I might need to use the restroom (which, of course there was not one, only an outhouse). For some reason, we were never near the outhouse and as the day wore on I needed to use the facilities.

Of, course none of the very sensitive and compassionate boys in our family ever suggested that I might have that need. I was very shy and determined to be tough and strong like the boys. Unknown to me, I am sure they had all availed themselves of the nearest bush or tree while I was not looking.

Eventually, I peed my pants, went home, hid my wet pants and never told anyone what happened, until recently. Mother says, Dad really didn’t plan it that way. He was just a man.

I still think he didn’t want me to be a tomboy and he taught me an important lesson. I was a girl, like it or not.

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