The Great Snipe Hunt

Recently, I had the privilege of spending time with my extended family. My eight-year-old great-nephews, Nathaniel and Brian, reminded me of what it is like to be young at heart, mind, and soul.

Nathaniel, or Natedude, as the family calls him, loves soccer—so much so that all he wears is soccer shirts. He is the youngest of five children. His salted blond hair is light green from swimming daily in a chlorinated pool. Growing up with older siblings has taught him to be expressive, well-spoken, and suspicions.

Natedude and Brian became fast friends, as distant cousins do at gatherings.

The gathering progressed to after-meal conversations. Adults transitioned into their groups. The teens and tweens transitioned to cell phones. They sat at the same picnic table. I believe they were texting each other. Their body language indicated communication, but they never spoke to each other. Curious?

Myself, I found a quiet spot under a shade tree. I unfolded my camping chair in a shaded place. I had exhausted my thought processing and memories for the day. The two boys, however, were bored and curious about why I was sitting alone. How could I get the boys to move on without being rude? What could occupy their time and allow me to enjoy the shade? That is when it came to me! A good old-fashioned Snipe Hunt! "How would you boys like to go Snipe hunting?" I asked. Their enthusiasm exceeded my expectations. Problem! Natedude seemed suspicious.

I told them they needed to find a stick to move grass and bush limbs. They also need a bag to hold the snipe. Brian became excited and ready for the hunt. Before I could say anymore, Brian said, "Let's go ask my Mom." So off they went, Natedude in tow, towards a group of adults. I could see the boys talking to Brian's Mom. But could not hear what they were saying. Then they both turned and pointed to me. I was sitting alone under my shade tree. What could I do? I just smiled and held my water bottle in a toast gesture. She emptied two plastic bags from a local store. Pulled each bag through the air to expand it like a balloon. Then smiled at me and gave the boys a bag each. She then sent the boys to Natedude's grandfather.

I watched as the boys told him their plan to hunt snipe. Brian showed him a plastic bag, and both boys pointed at me again. Grandpa typed something into his cell phone, turning it to show them a picture. They looked at each other with wonder and enthusiasm. Natedude's interest in the adventure notably increased. Grandpa then pointed to Natedude's dad.

After a few minutes of explaining, the boys shared my idea for an adventure. Natedude pointed to his grandfather. Brian pointed to his mother, and both boys pointed to me as they ran me over with the bus again. I smiled at Natedude's dad and raised a toast with my water bottle.

By this time, five guests joined me under the shade of my tree. They commented on the shade's comfort and humored the developing snipe hunt. Meanwhile, with Natedude's dad's help, the boys acquired tree limbs suitable for whipping the tall grass and bushes.

Brian and Natedude arrived back at the now-shared shade tree. They told me Brian's Mom gave them the bag to catch a snipe. Next, Natedude's grandpa showed them what a snipe looked like, and Natedude's dad helped them find good switching sticks. "Now what?" asked both boys. I glanced at the adults who were standing together. Three smiled and toasted me.

Fortunately, the other adults under the shade tree had shared their stories of snipe hunting. They gave me the fodder to get the boys away on an adventure. We, because this is no longer my solo caper. We sent the boys out shouting, "Here, snipe, snipe, snipe! Here, snipe, snipe, snipe!"

The boys went from one area of bushes to a grove of trees. Shouting repeatedly, "Here, snipe, snipe, snipe!" Their efforts attracted the attention of other kids, who joined in the hunt. Soon, even a couple of the tweens joined them. Next, a dozen kids, holding plastic store bags and a stick, shouting, "Here, snipe, snipe, snipe!" The adults continued visiting, and the teenagers continued teen-agering on their phones.

Meanwhile, the youthful voices of "Here, snipe, snipe!" echoed from tree grove to brush pile. The adults were entertained by the ongoing hunt. They didn't take long to move on to another group gathering. I had my shade tree back. Feeling proud of myself, I smiled and watched the great snipe hunt go about.

The evening sun extended the tree's shade, and the air cooled. The boys exaggerated their tiredness as they walked to my chair, each carrying a plastic store bag in one hand and a swiping stick in the other. They had sweat under their ears and running down their necks. "We couldn't find a snipe," Nate said, "but we did find a grass snake." He quickly opened the bag in front of my face.

The boys were being boys, but the old man in me moved quickly. I fought to get out of the camping chair, falling down in the process. They could have brought anything but a snake. The boys, several adults, and even the tweens looked away from their phones and started laughing. In a few seconds, everyone was looking at the boys and me. Brian's dad said, "It's the best snipe hunt he had ever seen."

Families gathered leftovers and cleaned up tables. I could hear the giggles as the story of the great snipe ended with me on my ass.