52 NEBRASKAland • OCTOBER 2017
Grandpa Hunter
Getting old isn't as tough when you have the right hunting partners.
By Larry Kurrus
T
he human mind is amazing. In the absence of
photographic equipment, it can sometimes capture
images so clear it seems as if you can reach out and
touch them. And these images are perfect and without
flaw.
On the last Saturday of Nebraska's firearm deer season,
I had just finished hunting with a friend near Tekamah and
stopped by a local gas station for a cup of hot chocolate and
a snack. While inside, we saw a young man in camouflage
who had to be about 16 years old.
My hunting partner asked if he had hunted and how he had
done.
"Grandpa shot a nice little buck," the young man politely
answered. Then he exited through the front door.
A minute later, the front door opened again and there
appeared a grizzled old gent, gray-haired and gray-bearded,
with a cane in his right hand and a crumpled piece of paper
in his left. He was struggling to get inside without losing his
balance with both of his hands full – including the death grip
he seemed to have on the piece of paper.
Immediately, the grip made sense. It was the canceled
permit from the "nice little buck." And the look on his face
also made sense: a combination of fatigue and memory from
the morning combined with a small grin of satisfaction that
captured the room of onlookers. He proceeded to the counter
without fanfare and was soon back out of the door.
Soon after, the young man came back in.
"Young man, after grandpa put that buck on the ground,
did you take care of it for him?" I asked.
"Yes sir, I did."
"Good man," I said. "I know he really appreciated that."
On my way out to our truck carrying my own 67-year-
old body with me, thoughts of my own future flashed in
my head. I sure hope I can follow in
grandpa's footsteps when I get older.
Then I thought about my two grandkids
and smiled.
You know, I think this is going to work
out just fine. ■
Larry Kurrus is a lifelong hunter and
angler living in Gretna.
PHOTO
BY
JEFF
KURRUS
