Dawn of the Epoch

Chapter XVII - Hunter's Childhood

Hunter’s childhood curiosity set in motion the wheels of fate that had brought his team to the digsite. Hunter’s family noticed these congenital traits in him early on.

Once, as the extended Price family gathered for the annual summer retreat at their Douglas Lake Ranch in Montana, Hunter’s father Terrance Moore Price II or “Terry” took Hunter and his younger brother Chris on a hunting expedition. They loaded up with snacks and supplies and rode 4x4 All-Terrain Vehicles out into the country in search of a Mule Deer feeder. As they found one and settled into position to wait for their prey’s arrival, Hunter immediately stirred.

“Dad!” he loudly exclaimed. “That creek down there runs into the other one! That means arrowheads might have washed up down there! We have to go check it out!” With that, Hunter carelessly flung himself by leaps and bounds down to the site.

His brother Chris, always the voice of reason, called out with increasing volume, “John, John, John you’ll fall!”

Though Hunter cleared the rocks and brush with grace and agility rare for a sixth grader, as he drew near the creek bed, the sole of his hiking shoe struck a patch of moss on a rock and completely lost traction sending him careening face first into the ground. He immediately sprung up, blood streaming down his face from a gash where his forehead met a rock. As he surveyed the creek bed, his father’s voice echoed in a remote part of his consciousness.

“John Terrance Price, use your head, show some restraint, and stop making such a ruckus. You’re likely to scare the animals away.”

Hunter’s mind, however, could only focus on one thing at a time, and right now, it pictured ancient Native Americans making a campfire here, field dressing a kill, and hopefully taking time for a little flintknapping. He realized that if they had stopped to whittle arrow shafts, flintknap arrowheads, or fletch arrows that they would have done so where they could sit comfortably on some part of the natural landscape. Nearby he saw a large flattish boulder and quickly set to digging around it. By this time, his father and brother had joined him.

“C’mon guys! There are arrowheads here. I know it!” exclaimed Hunter.

“Alright, we’ve got all day and the deer will keep. Let’s have a look.” said their father, Terry.

They spent the better part of an hour turning rocks up, digging, and surveying the area when their father, Terry, heard a rustling.

Terry said to his boys, “Shush…listen…look.”

Downstream from them, on a small hill, which sloped downward falling into the creek, a doe and two young deer emerged from the foliage. They made their way timidly to the feeder.

Terry, Chris, and Hunter slowly made their way up the embankment back to the blind where they had set out their rifles and supplies.

Terry whispered, “Alright Hunter, you had one yesterday, should we let Chris take one?”

“Yeah, that’s okay.” Hunter whispered back.

“Chris, we practiced this, are you ready?” Before Chris had a chance to reply, his father continued. “Because if you don’t feel up for it, no one is making you do anything.”

“I’m ready Dad.” Chris said as he adjusted the scope on his 30-30 Winchester. “I have a good profile of the smaller one.”

“Remember, aim below the shoulder. Don’t worry about hitting too high; it doesn’t matter if we lose a couple pounds of shoulder meat. Think about keeping your shot well up above the leg.”

Chris took his time, held his breath, pressed the cold metal barrel to his cheek and squeezed the trigger as slowly as possible while calming his thoughts and allowing the explosion in the chamber to surprise himself. Unfortunately, though he did everything he meant to, his inexperience overrode his determination and his shot went slightly wild, striking the young deer squarely in the jaw.