A friend of mine was telling me about the first time he was able to go hunting with his brothers. The story is as follows...
When I was 13 or 14, and my parents finally relented and let me go deer hunting with my two older brothers. The only stipulation was that I had to stick with my oldest brother, Dave, while my other brother, Matt, went off on his own.
We set off for the woods an hour before dawn, and split up, as planned. Dave and I went down one path, and Matt took his own route. Well, as luck would have it, in the darkness, I lost sight of Dave, and ended up on my own, completely turned around and disoriented. Needless to say, I started to panic. Then, I remembered something Dave had told me a couple years earlier. He said that if I was ever lost in the woods, I should just stay put and shoot three times in the air. So I calmed down, shot three times, and sat on a nearby rock to wait for my rescue. Fifteen minutes, 30 minutes, 45 minutes go by, and no sign of either brother. So I shot three more times in the air, and waited, and waited, and waited some more. Still no sign of help.
Finally, after almost 2 hours, a couple of hunters passed by. I called out to them, and they agreed to take me back to the ranger’s cabin, where my brothers eventually found me. I have to tell you, I was very grateful for those two hunters. You see, I was almost out of arrows.
