A Man’s Parting

By David Hale

The wilderness had always been a means of escape for John. The feeling of getting back to nature and away from the industrial grip of Houston, Texas, was a welcome relief. The oil refining business had been good to John and he was scheduled for retirement soon. He was ready to leave it all behind, to get away from the smoke stacks and stink of the oil refineries. John was ready to return to what he loved best.

In his sixty three years of life, John had been lucky enough to make it to Jackson, Wyoming, just about every year. The yearly trip to Jackson had finally become a family affair as John had forced his son, Michael, to come along. Michael had never been one for the outdoors or hunting, but he enjoyed spending time with his father. To Michael, a vacation was at a five-star resort with his wife and children, but the fact that his father was getting older made the trip to the Jackson wilderness that much more important. Besides, as a software engineer, Michael had the financial security to travel the world at any time if he wanted to.

It was cold that morning; the crisp fall air clung to the woods that surrounded the campsite. The leaves on the trees held to the branches with their last remnants of strength as a silent breeze tried to sweep them to the ground. This was the atmosphere that John loved. This is what John longed for three hundred and sixty four days a year.

As John emerged from his tent, he felt the biting cold cut through him. He stood there for a second taking a deep breath, then smiling.

“I can breathe here,” John thought to himself. Feeling the fresh chill of a new day John went back into his tent to ready himself for the oncoming day.

Michael awoke to the sounds of stirring about the campsite and the smell of fresh coffee being made on the camp fire. As he poked his head out of the tent, Michael saw his father was already making breakfast.

“Dad, it’s seven in the morning. How are you even moving around right now? Jesus Christ it’s cold out.”

“Eh, that’s just the old in me, son. You tend to get up quicker when you realize you’re losing the time you don’t got much more of.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Dad! You’re as healthy as a horse. I wouldn’t be surprised if you lived til two hundred.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see boy. Now hurry up and get your lazy ass outta bed, bacon n’ eggs are almost done.”

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming.”

Michael groaned to show his father his dissatisfaction with waking up so early on what should be a vacation, but, he had to admit that the breakfast smelled good.

As the men settled on their fold-out chairs, they discussed the plans for the day.

“Well, son, I was talking to Dan, the guy who runs the corner store, and he was telling me there’s good hunting about half a day’s trek from here. They say there’s a stream where all them big som bitch bucks like to drink from. Ole Dan said some of the other boys downed some ten pointers. I say we try our luck up there. I mean, if you’re up for it, city boy.”

“Ha ha! Real funny Dad! Well, if that’s what you think will be best.

“Atta boy! Now, finish up them eggs and we’ll get packed and head out.”

Michael finished his breakfast and began cleaning up the site. Though he wasn’t much for outdoors, he had to admire the natural beauty that surrounded him. It really was another world out there. There was no traffic, no stress; his cell phone didn’t even have service. All that he had around him was nature. As Michael surveyed his surroundings, a squirrel made a mad dash across the forest floor to grab a nut that had fallen from a nearby tree. Above him, a group of birds flew in V formation to their next destination. This place always seemed so strange and alien to Michael. Even the trees were strange in the wilderness. The size of the wooden giants seemed to mock Michael’s ego and six digit salary with their grandeur.

“What good would all my money do me out here, I could have six billion dollars out here, and it wouldn’t be worth the dirt I’m stepping on,” Michael thought.

The thought of money being worthless in the wilderness put an odd smirk on Michael’s face, but at the same time made him uneasy.

As the two men started off on their trek, Michael couldn’t help but notice the differences between his father and himself. As Michael scaled rocks in his newly-bought boots and hunting gear, his father looked more like Jeremiah Johnson. John’s boots were old and worn but somehow seemed sentient, as if they knew exactly where John wanted to go. John wore the same camouflage suit he had for years. Michael couldn’t remember if his dad had bought the outfit at a garage sale or at Goodwill, but had known his father to wear the outfit ever since Michael was a boy. The hat John wore was the same he had worn for the past thirty years. According to John, it still did its job and was just as lucky as the day he bought it. John’s white scruffy beard was beginning to come in after a few days. It was strange, but Michael couldn’t help noticing how much more piercing his father’s eyes were against the white stubble of the incoming beard.

As the men trekked on, Michael began to feel envious of his mountain-man father. Michael worked out hard, twice a week in a gym. Yet, out here, it felt as if it counted for nothing. Every few steps he took Michael wished they were already at the stream, as his breath became harder and his feet became heavier. On the other hand, his father moved like a billy-goat climbing a mountain. It was like the very land itself was revitalizing his father with the energy Michael was losing.

“Dad, you think we can take a break?”

“What? The land already kicking your ass? Don’t tell me you’re going to let your old man out do ya.”

“No! It’s just I want to check the map to make sure we’re going the right way.”

“Yeah, okay princess, we can take a break.”

Michael set his pack down, annoyed, and sat down on the large rock next to him. He had never realized the pure satisfaction of sitting until that very moment. The camouflage shirt Michael had purchased in Jackson looked like it had seen the worst part of a monsoon. The sweet dripping off the shirt felt cool on his skin yet still left him feeling disgusting.

“So, we headed the right way Dad?”

“Yeah. Honestly, we should be almost there, maybe thirty minutes or so.”

“Oh, sounds like we’re making good time.”

Michael looked around at his surroundings. The environment seemed to engulf them and everything else in its way. Michael wondered how many animals lived out here. It had to be millions. Yet, other than a few squirrels and birds, Michael had not spotted any big game.

“It’s so strange how a huge animal can be basically invisible out here. Then again, I am in the middle of a massive wooded area, so I guess I can’t be that surprised,” Michael thought to himself.

After a ten-minute rest, the men suited up and headed back on the trail. As they continued through the vast expanses of northwest Wyoming, they finally came over a hill overlooking the stream the other hunters had talked about. There the two men waited in the quit stillness of the Wyoming morning.

The men’s patience was finally rewarded when a ten point buck appeared from the tree line to dip its tongue into the cool crystal clear water. The buck stood poised as if the stream flowed only to soothe its thirst. Michael’s mouth dropped a little as he watched what seemed like an image from a magazine, unfold in front of him. As Michael looked on, taking in the beauty of the scene, John slowly moved closer to Michael and tapped him on the shoulder.

“All right son, this is him, right here. God damn, I can’t believe I’m actually seeing what I’m looking at. This som bitch is on the wall.”

Hearing his father’s words Michael was whipped out of his dreamlike state and snapped back into reality.

“Okay, Dad, what do you want me to do?”

“All right, listen here. Feeling the wind, we’re already downwind of that bastard. I’m going to take the first shot from over here. Now, I should be able to down it in a shot or two, but, just in case, you get a little higher up the hill, and if you see her getting away, you shoot.”

“Okay, got it Dad.”

Michael did as his father instructed and moved a little higher up the small hill. As he did so, he watched his father sneak into position. It was amazing to see his father stalking the buck and getting into position. It was like he had been born to do this. Like the line that connected him to the men that settled this country had never been severed.

John looked through the scope of his rifle, switched off the safety. and prepared to fire. The whole forest was quiet, the calm engulfed the forest. As John aimed, Michael readied his rifle just in case. Through the cross-hair Michael saw a much different scene from what he had before. Where once was beauty, now all he saw was oncoming death. The silence was deafening, almost unbearable; the rifle fired.

The birds in the surrounding trees scattered and flew to get away from what they knew was death. Through the cross-hair Michael saw a small spray of blood; the buck dropped motionless. All was quiet and once again the silence returned as it attempted to keep the calm serenity of the forest. A few moments later, out of the silence something answered the rifle’s call.

The roar shook Michael to the bone every ounce of blood running through him went cold. This was something Michael had never heard before, something he wished he would never hear again. As Michael turned, the bear’s eyes caught his.

“How could a creature that big, be so good at hiding?”

The bear was a blur as it charged at Michael. The power with which the bear moved attested to the rage it felt at being startled awake. As Michael watched he could do nothing but think about the lifeless buck lying next to the stream. Michael clenched his teeth and the bear screamed.

John’s bullet hit the side of the bear and deterred it, but hadn’t fully stopped it. The bear, feeling the bullets bite, rolled to the left behind the hill to avoid another potentially deadly shot. Then with all the force it could muster, the bear rushed over the hill. Michael was frozen; it was like he was watching a dream. John tried to reload his rifle for another shot, but the gun jammed. With no other options left, John dropped his rifle and unhooked his hunting knife from his belt. The bear moved with beastly ferocity towards John. John clasped the knife tight in his hand and gritted his teeth. The bear hurled itself, then sat up on his hind legs towering over John. The beast swung. John dodged the claw, adrenaline pushing his body hard. As John dodged, he spotted an opening and plunged the knife deep into the bear’s side. The bear felt the ripping of its flesh and roared. Before John could move away the bear toppled on top of him. The bear’s claws and teeth tore into John. He could do nothing but try to protect his vital organs and stab as often as he could. The pain John felt was unbearable but he wasn’t going to give up. That bear was not going to touch his son.

As John plunged his knife over and over again into the beast, cold steel barked. The bear lay there on top of him, its life gone, its corpse still. Michael ran towards his father, rifle in hand.

“DAD, DAD ARE YOU OK!?”

“YEAH I’M FANTASTIC! GET THIS MOTHER FUCKER OFF ME!”

Michael struggled to roll the dead weight of the huge carcass off his father but finally managed to free John. Looking down Michael saw his father’s injuries. The bear had tore into John’s fore arm, side and face. John’s entire body gushed blood from the ribbons of flesh the bear left when its claws connected.

“Fucking ridge back grizzly mother fucker,” John said through gritted teeth

“Dad I’m going to get help. I have my cell phone.”

“Boy, your cell phone ain’t gonna work out here, you know that.”

“JUST HANG ON!”

Michael ran around the immediate area trying to get a signal, pleading with God for just one little bar.
John used what strength he had left and yelled at his son.

“MICHAEL YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT, GET OVER HERE!”

Michael ran towards his father sprawled out on the ground. The red seeped out of John, making an outline of his body on the cold ground.

“Look boy, I know you mean well, but this is the end for me.”

Michael felt the tears start welling up at the corners of his eyes.

John grabbed his son by the front of his shirt, his hand quivering from blood loss.

“No! I’ll have none of that crying bullshit! I’m trying to tell you something important boy. When a man is coming to the end of his life, son, he wants to know his worth. He wants to know that all the bullshit he went through, all the wrong he did, it all meant something in the end. He wants to know that he lived a good life. I know you didn’t want to come out here to Jackson. But the fact that you came anyway means the world to me, son. I need you to know that. I need you to know if I had to go through this all over again, I’d do it the same way.

The tears began falling from Michael’s eyes as he looked into his father’s piercing green eyes.

“It’s all right boy, it’s all right. Clean yourself up. I need to ask you one last thing.”

“Anything, Dad.”

“When a man leaves his son, he needs to know he left his son a man. I want you to look me in the eye, son, say goodbye like a man.”

Michael looked away, wiped the tears off his face, and took a deep breath. He looked down at his father’s mangled body, the blood flowing out steadily like a Folsom prison break. Michael’s eyes met his father’s for the last time. Michael gathered up his father and put his arms around him, hugging him.
Michael lay his father back down on the ground. John smiled his last smile at his son and passed away.

The buck, the bear, and the man lay there lifeless.

A changed man began making his way back to Jackson as a soft snow began to fall.

It’s said that to see a man’s mettle, you have to look in his eyes as death approaches. In that one moment a man’s ego and pride are stripped away and all you’re left with is the raw spirit that drives him.

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