On November 13th of this year, my 16 yearold son, Andy and I went hunting with my younger brother Ron and his 14 year-old son Tyler. I am enclosing some photos for you to look at that are of the deer we shot during bow season over some of our food plots that we planted with your products early this past spring.
I have never been one to beat my drum, but these photos are worthy of a beat or two. The photo taken of my brother, Ron, in the dark is of an 8-point that weighed out at 225 lbs. The next picture of the blond haired boy in a white shirt is of 16 year-old Andy holding the 300 pound 12-pointer that little Tyler shot. Then there is a picture of myself (Tom) my son Andy, and 14 year old (cousin — nephew) Tyler holding his 300-pounder. But there is more to this story than what is seen in the photographs. You see, a little over a year ago, our father, Ed Pecore unexpectedly passed away in his sleep in Colorado. Our father was a career military man who always found time to take his three boys hunting and fishing. I can remember the first time either one of us got our first deer and the pure joy that came over our father. Many times he would get up and make the trip in the woods with us and we all would get a deer but Dad. The reason, he always made sure that we had the best hunting spot, the best equipment and he went to great lengths to instill in each one of us the joy of the outdoors and the reverence that all hunters need to have when harvesting the game. As we grew older and things like college, work, marriage, our own kids, we were spending less time with our father in the woods. We, my brother and I, were also not spending anytime together hunting or fishing. We were always too busy doing what ever we thought was more important and we failed to remember the many lessons of family love that was taught us by our father. In dealing with his passing, we both came to realize the impact our Dad had on our lives and we both saw that we were not passing those lessons on to our own sons. So this past year, my brother Ron and I made a pledge. We will hunt again together as brothers and this time we will take our sons with us and when we are not alone in our tree stands, we will share stories of great hunts with our Dad. We found ourselves spiritually and we found each other again. The hunt was over and we were heading home. Since Andy and I had the longest distance to drive, we found ourselves in the middle of Kansas on a moonless night, with every star that one can imagine shinning brightly in the heavens above us. Heading south, I happen to look into my rear view mirror and I noticed that the sky behind us was green. I pulled over and turned off the truck and Andy and I sat on the tailgate, speechless, looking at the Northern Lights. Red, green, blue, white, yellow and so many variations in between. After a few moments I looked at him and asked him if he remembered the last time we saw them and after a pause, he said that he did. It was with him and me, Uncle Ronnie, Cousin Tyler, and Opa (that is what the grand kids called Dad). I told that I remembered that too. After a long pause, he turned and looked at me with tears running down his cheeks and said that, "Opa is still here with us, isn't he Dad?" I said, "Yes he is Andy, and he is enjoying the great hunt." My brother and I talk on the phone now more then we have in the last ten years and we are again planning on next years hunt. We can hardly wait till Andy, Tyler, uncles Tom and Ron and, yes, Opa, get back into the woods again for another great hunt.
