The Red Bird

Celebrate this holiday season with the ones you love. Enjoy taking a moment from the hustle and bustle and welcome company, and make memories.

article by Dan Chason

It is now in the breaking of a new day, watching the sun rise through the timber, hearing the wood ducks squeal that I am at total peace. I am left with my thoughts and only the sounds of nature. Barking squirrels, a black crow off in the distance sounding his alarm are all sounds that bring back memories and thoughts of the path I took that brings me to this place. I think of my brother, who I lost in August of this year and how we hunted together only last year in this same deer stand. The look on his face, drawn from his battle with brain cancer but lit up with anticipation of a good deer hunt.

We were in the “shooting gallery” of a 4 by 8 box stand where you can hunt a family of Chason’s. Speedo, my brother, had not killed a deer in a long time after moving to Texas years ago, and didn’t have readily available places to hunt. I remember that cold morning vividly as we talked about past hunting adventures in a quiet whisper. We laughed at each other’s memories of things we had gotten into as kids and just enjoyed being together. Simple things enjoyed like sharing a good cup of coffee together in the stand, or watching him get irritated as I would cover him with a jacket or bring the heater closer out of concern for his weakened state. The jovial picking at each other as he still called me “Fat Boy” as he did most of my life. Knowing that there sits a man that I love; a man who was a huge part of who I became and who I want to be. A Godly man who never once blamed our Creator for his illness. A man I knew who would probably never see another hunting season.

But this morning, I sit here alone with my thoughts. Questioning why and how God decided to take a good man from a loving wife and family. But the answer will not come. The same question is asked about my parents, who I lost in 2014, both devout and loving people. Why do good people die too early and how do you deal with it all?

Indian folklore says that there is a creature who embodies those who have left this earth. That creature is a cardinal or what we refer to as a red bird. I never really paid much attention to red birds when hunting. I didn’t until 2005.

2005 was the first death that hit close to me. When my son-in-law Chad Powell, was killed in Iraq, it was devastating. Chad was my son’s best friend and my daughter’s husband. He had been a steady presence in my life since he was 13 years old. When he died, my whole perception of living and death changed.

Chad was on my camera crew with my son Andy and traveled all over with us filming our TV show. One thing Chad loved was deer hunting and it was deer hunting that we enjoyed the last season he was home in 2004. Since then, when I’m hunting or fishing, I would see a red bird and know that Chad was still there with me.

People that don’t hunt can’t fathom the reason hunters spend so much time in the woods. It is the untold story of hunting that I want to give you today. It’s the sounds, the smells and the peaceful quiet of the woods. Far off shots make your anticipation rise as you know the deer are moving. Hearing a branch or leaves rustle not knowing if you are about to watch a black bear mama and her cubs visit your area. Or if it is a big hog and piglets rooting around for breakfast. The ultimate of course is the scene of a doe slipping through the woods and hearing noise behind her as she turns to look. Your heart pounds with anticipation of that elusive trophy buck slipping in behind her. All of this is the reason we hunt. It is not just the harvesting of an animal for table fare. In fact, the harvest is almost disappointing in some sense, as the best part is over. That feeling of total peace. Most people do not have a single minute in a week where there is complete silence and quiet. Nor do they understand what it is like to climb into an observation point and just listen. Listening and determining the source of that noise. That is why I love hunting with kids or someone who never hunts. All of these familiar sounds to me are foreign to them. But the best part is the complete silence. So quiet that you can hear your heart beat. That is hunting.

I think of those things as I sit in this stand. My brother harvested a barren doe that morning which is the last deer he ever saw or shot. I remember his face and the total elation that he displayed that day … pure joy. We shared that moment together and I can tell you this, that is the memory I savor. The last big crappie he caught with me that week; helping him load up his last deer; seeing him being able to escape the horror he lived fighting cancer. That’s what I remember. I remember my brother being totally happy. But I also remember his last words to me as he lay in the hospital, “I love you Bubba.” He always told me that on each and every call, that sound rings in my ears today and I would give it all up to hear it one more time.

And as I sit here today in this stand, not one or two or three but FOUR red birds come into my corn pile. I’d like to think that mom, dad, Chad and Speedo are here with me. And I can’t think of anything I’d rather have right now for my perfect Christmas present. Love them while you have them is my best advice. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.