I didn’t hear him enter the dark house but quickly awoke when he tapped on my shoulder and whispered “Matt, wake-up. Are you ready to go fishing?” Instantly I was a jabber mouth and was telling him about the game we played in school, called 7-up. Completely unrelated to fishing but it didn’t matter to me. I was going to spend the day home from school and we were going fishing. I’m sure it was frustrating for Rick, I tangled my line entirely too much. I wasn’t very good at putting the worm on the hook. We fished and talked through-out the entire day.
As years passed there was always a certain bond between us. Coffee and morning walks. Coffee and working in his shop. Coffee and drawing house plans. Coffee and working on “hole-seals”. Coffee and morning meetings prior to deer or goose hunting. Sometimes just coffee breaks while hunting for deer. I’d often have and share the dessert to go with it, like a Werthers candy or a snack size Snickers bar.
Rick and I worked together for about 10 years, give or take a few. We car-pooled. We took lunches together. We always talked about hunting at some point through the day. He would talk about a back pack he was modifying using old car seat belt material and I would talk about the new ammo load I was trying for my .270.
We both read Dr. Ken Nordberg’s books on black bear and several volumes on deer hunting. Dr. Ken was a “no frills” type of author and it was fascinating to compare his knowledge to ours, or at least what we thought was our knowledge! At work we would randomly comment on something we read in his books and then spin it to a past experience and stand there with shear fascination once the stories connected. Rick would drop his jaw slightly, just over the past awkward part of slightly and I would keep nodding my head up and down while repeating the word “ya” in different tones.
I lined up a turkey hunt in Wisconsin for us, which also included one of my other brothers, Tom. The 3 of us made the 4 hour drive. The weather was rainy. While there Tom said he heard a “Pshhh”. Sure enough, we got a flat tire. Both Rick and I bagged turkeys. My turkey was all luck, it randomly flew and landed about 7 yards from me where I somehow both swiftly and clumsily dispatched the bird. Unfortunately we were one turkey short when we left for home. It was a great way to devote the weekend!
Rick lined up a turkey hunt in Nebraska for us a few years later, to hunt the Merriams turkey. We both made the trip and were successful. I wasn’t much of a turkey hunter. When the property owner told me I should sit by the plum bushes, I had no clue what darn plum bushes looked like and I didn’t ask. I walked the property until I saw some bushes that were different and assumed they were plum bushes. To this day, I still am not sure! I did call a nice bird in right away that morning. I tagged it and tied a shoe lace from its legs and to the end of my shotgun barrel so I could carry the shotgun over my shoulder and the bird easily hung behind me. I was a proud hunter marching back to head-quarters! At this point we tossed around the idea about pursuing the NWTF Grand Slam and maybe even the World Slam.
As with most relationships, they can grow and fade. Rick and I had the fading moment. I got married and was raising kids, pursuing college and career goals. He also was going through changes in relationships, work changes and ended up in his words “living his dream” by becoming a hunting guide in Texas at a place we once hog hunted at. We became what could be called more disconnected although I am not sure we really recognized it at that time. The daily conversations gradually turned into seasonal conversations.
As a few years passed and while he stopped in to visit from his way from Texas to Northern Minnesota, it didn’t take more than a few seconds of conversation to spark the relationship we once had. We could talk for hours about hunting.
That following Spring I made a trip down to Texas where he would be my guide and we could bag our Rio Grande turkeys. I did bag mine after several days of hunting and an intense stalk. He wasn’t able to bag his while I was there, however he did fill his tag a few days later. We observed some of God’s country and spent many hours together in the hunting blind catching up and setting new goals for hunting. We talked about the local history in that area while we laughed and created our own jokes. I’m not surprised we didn’t bag turkeys from the hunting blind because we were giggling like young school girls.
Our next trip was being discussed, the Osceola Turkey from Florida. Even though we didn’t have solid plans we knew it would come together. Then the news came one early Fall day. Rick was being rushed to the University of Minnesota hospital where he suffered from an aneurism. From this day, even with all the prayers and hopes we knew we may not be able to hike the fields and woods any time shortly. I kept recalling the words from one of my other hunting associates, “Complete your Turkey Slams before you run out of years”. Was it too late now?
As time went and Rick was struggling to get better, I had an opportunity to hunt in Florida. I did and was successful. I felt guilt by bagging the turkey without him. I talked to him even though I am not sure he understood or remembered due to his condition. I told him I know where to go in Florida to bag his Osceola Turkey and when he’s ready, even if it required him hunting from a wheel chair. We would make it happen. The Osceola turkey completed the Grand Slam for me.
My next opportunity for turkey was in Mexico for the Goulds Turkey. Rick was in Texas at the time. I flew and had a flight switch in Dallas, Texas both on the way to Mexico and on my way home. I wanted to get off the flight to go talk to Rick. I couldn’t being I had my luggage in transition and had to catch my next flight. This also would have been Rick’s first trip to Mexico and I knew he would have soaked up the history and culture as I did.
I felt like the relationship was oddly growing apart again and I was moving on with my goals while he was working on his, now much different goals from each other. With the feeling of little, to no, ability to assist him other than conveying my continuous support and sharing stories of the life we shared. It felt like a wall going up that was blocking our communication. I just kept thinking that he should be here with me, now. It didn’t seem fair. I knew at this point that Rick would not be hunting with me any longer. I set a goal to complete my World Slam, for both of us.
Later that year I made another trip to Texas, this time with my cousins, Gordy and Barb. We went to see Rick and his wife, knowing that could have been our final time together. I was too emotional to really say anything. As we spent time together it took all my strength just to visit with him, using one way conversation being he couldn’t speak. When I left all I could muster was “good-bye, Rick”. I was heart-broken.
It wasn’t more than a couple of weeks my family and I went there again to see Rick and this time to spend time as a family vacation to and from Texas. The drive down was wonderful, despite having a flat tire before even leaving Minnesota! We ate at restaurants that were known as the best for each area. We shared meals to save on expenses, but it was always enough for a meal even though it was proportioned.
We arrived late at night to see Rick at the hospital. We visited briefly with his wife, Charline, and with Rick. We went back to the hotel room and slept for a few hours. When we woke up we went back to the hospital. There the nurse mentioned that Rick was still hanging in there but he was showing signs of departure. We visited with him and then we went to have lunch in the hospital cafeteria area.
While there I had a strange feeling, like I needed to spend time with Rick alone. I went to his room and it hit me. This was it. I reminded him of some of memories we shared. Some of the hunts we completed together. I talked about Mom and Dad and other immediate family. I talked about the small church we grew up attending. I said a prayer. Then I touched his arm and told him “Man, I’m going to miss you, Rick. I’m going to miss you” “Don’t be afraid. It’s ok, you have the Perfect Guide. Jesus will lead the way. He’s traveled the path before. He knows the way.”
It may seem like an offbeat prayer for Rick. But he knew how we worked together. When he guided me on my first fishing day trip, when he guided me on my Texas turkey hunting trip and many other hunts. He knew where to go to be successful with the bounty. When I lined up the hunting in Wisconsin and on many other hunts. He had confidence in me. The timing of an effective guide must be perfect for success.
He also knew, that Jesus knew the way to Heaven and He was going to be his next Guide. Within a half hour, Rick took his last breath with his wife on his right side and I on his left.
As years passed, I found myself in the Yucatan, hunting the Oscillated Turkey. My luggage was lost and I only had clothing from my carry-on bag in addition to a few articles of clothing kindly donated to me by my fellow hunters. The days were brutal with hot temperatures and bugs. It was miserable trying to sleep with monkeys screeching all night at us. There were poachers running in the jungle bare-foot and looting.
On the 3rd day, I bagged my Oscillated turkey using a rented shotgun that was missing a portion of the sight and had electrical tape on the stock. That bird completed my NWTF World Slam. As I picked up my bird to admire its beautiful colors, a small feather slowly drifted to the ground. I picked it up. Lifted my face to the sky and said; “Thank you, Lord”. “We did it, Rick, this one is for you”.
I felt as if a burden was lifted, in such a way like our relationship had been successfully completed and closed with smiles.
That feather represents more memories than words can write.
It’s just a small feather, but Rick and I both share it.
