A Rite of Passage . . .

Last week a friend posted some photos on FB that took me back in time and made me smile.  The photos were of her son and his first deer (which he had harvested during the youth season). That was a happy young kid. I messaged her that his dad needed to dip the first three fingers of each hand in blood and swipe the young guy’s face to give him the markings of a warrior.  She replied that her husband had done that very thing, and the kid was proudly sporting his new look and would not be washing it off anytime soon.

For young men there are a number of different rites of passages, some of which are often part of one’s ethnic or religious heritage and may include some form of ceremony, such as a formal baptism, confirmation, or Bar Mitzvah. The rite of passage marks a milestone in one’s life.  There are a number of such milestones in life, which includes transition from puberty to high school, graduation, coming of age, marriage, and even death.

In the past, those who lived in the South pretty much always harvested wild game to feed their families.  Many of us continue to do that today . . . both for recreation, meat, and often times as part of our heritage.  For some of us, it is important that we pass on to our sons this custom, believing that country boys can, indeed, survive, and it is, thus, important for a man to teach his son how to harvest and process a deer, pheasant, fowl, and other game.  It is also important for him to teach him how to catch fish.  It just seems pretty obvious that those who can go into the wild and harvest meat for their table will not be looking to the government to feed them.

For me and my ilk, a young guy and his first deer is a pretty serious milestone as he marches toward manhood, and it can certainly include a bit of ceremony with the warrior marking.  I recall a few years back when Chris and I shared the experience of his first deer. That was special, and I proudly marked him as a successful warrior, and he proudly wore his warrior stripes.  After that success, he began hunting on his own and no longer under my watchful eyes.

I have also shared the experience with some of my nephews and with a number of young guys who lived at the Children’s Home over the years.

 The North wind . . . a bit of chill in the air . . . the month of November . . . Thanksgiving approaching . . . opening weekend of deer season just ahead . . . a group of good friends standing around a camp-fire . . . serious stuff for an old country boy!

I love the South . . . I am a product of the South.  My son is a product of the South . . . we are country boys . . . we can survive!


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