The Last Time We Hunted Together

Here’s the thing… we never actually hunted together. But I think about him almost every time I do.

A Moment in Time

It was 2011 when my grandpa passed away. The decline was long-lasting and painful to watch him unable to do all of the things he previously was able to. In his final days, he gathered the three of us—my dad, my brother, and myself—and instructed us to open up his old safe.

One by one, he had us pull out his guns. An old snub nose .38 special, a pearl gripped .38, and his old childhood Sears catalog 12-gauge shotgun.

All three were meaningful, but I had never even seen them before.

Pops looked over each of them and explained how one was his father’s, one was his while he was working as a police officer in a small town in Northern California, and the shotgun was what he had purchased from the Sears magazine as a kid.

That shotgun instantly spoke to me. As a duck hunter, I could only imagine the stories it could tell before my Grandpa had taken off for a big city job in San Francisco as a young father.

As his days started coming to an end, one of his last suggestions was to take that old shotgun out to the backyard and see if it still fires—something we could never do in our SF Bay Area suburban neighborhood.

Little did we know, we’d never get the chance to take that old Sears & Roebuck catalog shotgun out together.

This Is Why I Take People Hunting

That moment in his living room—surrounded by old pictures, filled with untold stories and three generations of our family name—it stuck with me. Not because of what we said. But because of what we missed.

I take people hunting because I didn’t get to go with him. Because I can’t go back and say yes to that moment in the backyard. Because I want to make sure someone else gets to say yes to theirs.

New hunters, young ones, friends who’ve never held a shotgun or a rifle… Guys who’ve never been invited into this life… who don’t even know they need it yet.

This is more than a hobby. It’s more than filling a strap. It’s a chance to give someone something they might not know they’re missing: something that grounds you, slows you down, connects you to the past and reminds you of who you are when the noise of life starts to settle down.

Most of Us Are One Invitation Away

You don’t know whose first hunt will be the one that anchors their life. Or whose last hunt will happen while you’re beside them.

And you don’t have to be a pro to invite someone in. You just have to be intentional.

Let them borrow your gear. Wake up early and bring extra coffee. Teach them the etiquette, the safety, the rhythm of watching skies and the techniques of identifying birds.

Because that’s how it was passed to us. And that’s how we pass it forward.

The Shot We Never Took

I still wonder what it would’ve felt like to hear and feel that old shotgun dance. To stand next to my grandpa in the back field and watch him smile when it fired. I never got to take that shot or make that memory.

But now, every time I hunt with someone new… every time I hand a young hunter their first duck call or teach someone how to shoulder a gun—I’m taking that shot.

Don’t Miss It

Someone is waiting to be invited.

Someone’s never watched a sunrise over a quiet marsh that is about to come alive. They’ve never felt their heartbeat start to race with the unmistakable sound of wings beating above them. They’ve never had a moment where the silence finally cut through all the noise and pressures of life.

If I could be so candid… Would you be the one who makes space for that?

Because the last hunt you share with someone… might be the one they remember long after you’re gone.