The Snipe Hunt

They promised us that we would catch a snipe. All we needed was a tow sack. But what does a nine year old know. I was ready to go on my first snipe hunt.

My sister, Belinda, my friend, Dana, her younger brother, Matt, and our leader, George, the older “wiser” one of the group and I head out about 9 o'clock with no moon to help lead the way for a pasture with newly plowed dirt and a large wooded area in the middle. The dirt is soft and smells sweet. I still remember how dark that wooded area looked. Like a black hole ready to take us in. Yet I didn’t question George and his excitement to catch a snipe. I didn’t even question what a snipe was.

George told us to hold the sack near a hole. Matt argued that it was an armadillo hole but George insisted that it was different. “See the angle of the dirt. That’s a snipe,” George said with authority. He would go around the back of the woods and scare the snipe out. That’s all it takes!

We are all scared but yet excited. Dana and I held the sack. Matt and Belinda kept watch. Thinking back now, I’m not sure what they were watching for. In the distance we could hear coyotes singing. We heard them all the time so we weren’t scared, yet. Then a hoot owl flew past us very near our heads. We didn’t hear or see one of those often. The silence of the dark night was the scariest part of the whole hunt.

After about 15 minutes, we decided that George got lost. Belinda made a group decision to go back to the house. We whined that we couldn’t go back empty handed. She explained that nobody came back with a snipe.

Quietly we walked back toward the house. We were deflated because we weren’t able to show our catch to the parents having their party. The plowed pasture seemed a lot bigger now.

The next thing I remembered was this loud growl and scream rushing toward us from the end of the wooded area. George tells the story that I dug quite a deep hole in that plowed ground trying to get away from this creature running at us which of course was him. I remember being scared of what the creature was. I wasn't interested in seeing what a snipe even looked like. I don't know why I thought digging a hole in that plowed ground would get me to a safe place.

Even now when I see George and we mention this outing he still laughs about, I hold this secret revenge toward him that one day I will have a great story to tell about him. We’re in our forties now so I better hurry up. I think he’s already been cow tipping!

(If anyone doesn’t know what a snipe is, please let me know and I will explain!)