The old couple just shook their heads and walked on by. It was a nice late summer evening, the sun was just beginning to set, the temperature was around fifty degrees, a light breeze blew across the lake, and I stuck my elbow out the passenger side of ol' Bernice (my brother's pet name for his truck). 

I cracked my neck and drew in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp, fresh autumn air. I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, letting the sounds of the lake take me back into time. In an almost dreamlike voice, I began to reminisce with my brother about hunts that we had shared.

"You know Mike, I'd never seen someone so upset as you were that time we were in St. Peter and you spooked those deer. You were what, fourteen or fifteen?" 

My mind took me to that old tree stand facing an open field, my eyes focused on the deer trail meandering through the sumac. I spoke to Mike in a dreamlike voice, 

"As is often the case Mike, the deer appeared as if by magic, materializing out of the woodwork. I knew that the doe and her yearlings would be walking past my stand at a mere 10 yards. I figured that it was time to slowly get into position." I laughed out loud as I said, 

"They hit the edge of the sumac and what did I see? Yeah, I saw your sandy-haired head bobbing up and down that dry creek bed behind me!" 

I shook my head, I remember thinking silently, Mike, just sit still, please don't walk into the field. "But what did you do? You walked out right into plain view! I remember hearing the snort and seeing those three deer with those big ol' tails just waving in the air. I was going to be mad at you until I saw your face. When you saw those deer, the look on your face almost made me cry! You looked like someone just kicked your new pup. Then you broke into tears. I slowly got down out of the tree and walked over to you and did you apologize? 

No, all you said was, "I spooked the big buck.'" 

I laughed out loud and said, "You could care less about the deer you spooked from MY stand. You were just so dang upset about losing a shot at ol' Mossyhorns." For as long as I can remember, there was a HUGE non-typical buck that haunted the woods my family hunted. No one had ever gotten close enough for a shot. I myself, though I'd harvested many deer from those woods, had only caught ghostly glimpses of the massive rack as it vanished into the undergrowth. 

"Mike" I said, "Those bucks don't get big by being stupid. He'll be back someday and you'll have another shot at him. Just relax and think about all the things you did wrong. That way, the next time you have a chance at ol' Mossyhorns, you will remember what happened this time. Who knows, you may just get him next year." 

I whiled away the hours, talking about the time he impersonated me, called in sick to work so I could take him fishing, talking to him about all the times I caught him "borrowing" my truck, talking to him about hunts we've had, and the hunts we'd planned for the future, hunts we'd never get a chance to go on. The same old couple walked past again, possibly on their way home from their evening walk. They must have thought I was insane, sitting alone in the passenger side of a truck, talking to myself, laughing out loud and crying with no one there. 

"You know Mike, you weren't just my favorite hunting partner you were my very best friend. James is a good brother, but he doesn't hunt or fish. I miss you baby brother." 

My eyes filled up with tears again thinking how badly it hurt to miss him. I looked through teary eyes and noticed the sun was almost gone, it's light extinguished. I knew I would awaken the following day to a new sun, just as bright, just as warm. I would never again awaken to your brightness or your warmth. We would never again hit the woods after game. We would never talk, laugh, play pranks or just sit together sharing thoughts quietly. I wiped my eyes and drew in a deep breath. 

"Well Mike, Your sister-in-law will be wondering where I'd gotten to so I'd better get us back home, huh? After all, she's got your nephew kicking her stomach and I'm sure I'll be called upon to go out and get her some ice cream or something."

I got out of the truck and walked slowly to the driver's side. I started Bernice and drove her back home. I saw my wife rocking in her chair, hands on her stomach. 

A few short months later, on a chilly January morning, Michael James Keltgen was born. My mother and my wife both cried as they heard me speak to my brother. I looked at them both and told them something I heard a long time ago that reminded me that Mike was always there. 

"The guardian angels of life often fly so high as to be beyond our sight, but they are always looking down upon us." Then, my son looked up, opened his eyes and gave us all his first smile. It may be in my grief, I was imagining things but I knew that my son too was looking up with a smile at his Uncle Mike. 

Happy hunting baby brother.

* Dedicated to my brother, friend, and hunting partner. 
Michael Robert Keltgen, 02 October 1982, 05 April 2002

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