Jack and the Beag

Ahh, hunting varmits in Michigan. Mid September to mid-March, opportunities aplenty. Tall grasses, brushy areas and open fields offer up the perfect nesting and hiding habitats for our furry friends. One adventurous tale from former student Jack proved his love not only for the joy of hunting, but that of nabbing the perfect gift for Grandpa.

Early December, 1998 or so. Jack, an 11th grade student on my caseload had returned from the vocational center a few minutes before the start of his third hour class. With fast-food breakfast in hand, he entered my office for a chatn’snack. Always up for light conversation, I welcomed his happy soul. Today was a chilly start to the week with light snow and falling temps. Holiday tunes were softly playing. 

“Morning, Mrs. S. Care if I hang before third hour starts? Gotta story bout huntin with Popcorn, yaknow, my beagle. Yur not gonna believe it.” Peeling away the wrappings, he chunked a bite of hash brown slivered between his egg Mcsandwich. 

“Well, let’s just share n’care a bit, shall we?” I joined him at the large table with my coffee and a few students finishing up assignments.”By the way Jack, you’ve got about 8 minutes to brag. No one here will be late to class, got it? Summarize and carry on my friend.”                                                                     

Interest was high as non-academic boy talk took to the stage. Cue Jack. “It all started Friday night when me and Popcorn drove up to Grandpa’s farm in Chesaning. I couldn’t hunt, cuz it was too dark, so Gramps and I went for pizza at Pintown, you know, the bowling alley…” Jack began to wander as he continued to chomp. 

“And?” I jokingly added. 

Jack nodded, inhaling a last bite. “So me and Popcorn and my 12 guage, ya know, my semi-auto, we left Saturday mornin for the woods. We was in a clearing tryin to flush out some rabbits from the bushes. Ya know, for stew, snowshoe stew,” he chuckled. “Well, nothin’s punchin out. Ya know. I was gettin a little down about that. Ya know. So I just sat with Popcorn and took a break.”

Time was ticking and Jack had a story to embellish. “So what did you do then, Jack?” I asked. 

He had piqued our interest. “Well I didn’t want to just walk all day for nothin, so I decided to find Grandpa a nice little Christmas tree. And there it was, like magic or somethin! Bout a six footer, ya know.  A little scraggly but a trim would make it right.”

Continuing forward, “So, instead of rabbits, I was gonna git a tree. No saw, I’ll  just use my shotgun, ya know?  Yup, plaster that stump until that tree drops! Great idea, ya?”

Always one to ramble, Jack had his audience captured. Boy talk. Woods. Gun. 

“Cool! How many shells did it take Jack? Ya know, did you pound it?” fellow huntsman Jerry asked. 

I could only reply with, “Oh boy” and rolling eyes. “Wind this convo up, Jack. Time is short, ya know?”

Anxiously, young Jack yammered on, “I obliterated it man! Bout 12 shots and I felled that tree! Pop, pop, pop! An Popcorn, he took off for a good chase. Rabbits were no where.” 

Jack proceeded his edgy adventure of hauling the tree to his nearby truck. Back to the search and nab of Popcorn and rabbits. A pretty good day.

As the afternoon began to wane into darkness, however, Popcorn or snowshoes had not appeared. Yelling for the beag proved worthless. Experience reminded Jack to leave a scent and likely his prized pup would return. Shedding his coat, Jack laid it in the new-fallen snow. 

Returning to his truck, the prized pine was gone. A quick search showed two sets of boot tracks and the swish of the tree’s boughs. “Who’d ever take this tree?” he thought. A quick chill ran through Jack as he jumped in the truck to follow the trail. 

It wasn’t long before the suspicious traces ended. Fresh tire tracks appeared to capture the tree and nabbers. 

Jack was disappointed to say the least. “Yup, I scored zero for the weekend. Popcorn scored a zero, an Grandpa scored a zero. The rabbits, the robbers, an my shotgun won. I jus lost that trail fast. A big fat ZERO!”

“That’s it, Jack? That’s your story?” I inquired. “Beginning, middle and end? No happily-ever-after?”

Jack rose from the table. “Yup, jus like that. Good thing though, Gramps and I went back to Pintown for another pizza. Sharin my bad luck, I noticed a red Dodge Ram in the parkin lot with a tree on back! Cha-Ching!  Checkin the stump, it was filled with BBs. I knew it was ours!

“Load it up boy,” yelled Gramps. “No pizza tonight, we’re buggin outta here!” 

Transferring the tree to Gramps’ truck, they dashed to Mac n Dees, then for home. Pulling into the drive, headlights spotted Popcorn shivering on the porch. It turned out to be a good day after all!

Jack had taken stage. He captured an audience and won out in the end. The bell rang to end class and all left without a tardy slip. Another happily-ever-after moment.

All in all, my days were not always consumed by academia. It became apparent early in my career that my listening was just as important to these students as their learning. Subject matter for the boys seemed to revolve around three topics; hunting, drugs and sex. Girls shared their priorities as well; anything with drama. Tales aplenty, I was blessed with countless memories. Thanks Jack, and those who shared the “stage” of my office. 

Lessons Learned:

Listening and learning are validation to one’s growing knowledge. I learned so much from my students as they gained confidence and independence. I could write a book!