SHEPHERDING OUTDOORS: FULL BELLIES

BY WALT MERRELL

Banks was six or seven at the time … old enough to enjoy the trip, but not yet able to help much with the work of it all. She sat up in the front of the kayak, absorbing the vibrancy of the newness of the ‘Spring filled’ world as it passed us by. Bright green Tupelo leaves mixed with deep green hints of the cypress trees … flanked with a few strokes of brown bark and early budding flowers and it all made for a beautiful palette. Her head swiveled left and then right, as she gazed at the variations of passing flora and fauna.

“You’re not getting bored, are you?” I asked a gauging question … for boredom is the seed of complaint, and complaint the fertilizer of a bad attitude.

“No sir,” she quickly responded, pivoting in her seat so she could make eye contact. “There is lots to see and look at.” She paused for a few seconds …

“You think we might see a bear?”

I chuckled and acknowledged that “I guess it is possible. There are bears down here. But they don’t like to be seen by people very much … so maybe not.”

We continued for another 15 minutes, out of Rice Creek and into the Tensaw River. “Some people call this Tensaw Lake instead of the Tensaw River.” She nodded her head with less interest than an old dog has in a young skunk, and I kept paddling. She shifted a time or two in her seat. The river was much wider than the creek we just left, and the natural picture show she had enjoyed so much in the narrow passageway was now much more difficult to appreciate, as everything was much further away.

“Keep your eyes open for an alligator,” I offered with the thought that a search for one might keep her entertained for a while longer. She perked up and scanned furiously on the water’s surface. “Look up near the bank, too,” I said. “They like to cruise just out from under the overhanging branches.” She scooted forward on her seat and sat even more upright.

This was Banks’ first “real” kayak trip. My fear was that the hours we’d be on the water would lead to boredom, then frustration, then a general disdain for the adventure of it all. We had paddled plenty of times before, but always around the pond at home, or a nearby lake … all just to get her accustomed to kayaking. This trip though, would be overnight … from Rice Creek to the Alabama Grand Champion Cypress tree in the middle of the Mobile-Tensaw River Delta, to Jug Lake to camp, and then back again.

Thirty minutes passed and all seemed well. We hadn’t spoken much … she searched furiously for alligators and bears … and we made good time and found our way out of the big river and back into the smaller, more entertaining confines of the smaller creeks.

“I’m hungry.” Her words broke the quiet ripples of the water moving beneath the boat. “Well, I can sure fix that,” came my quick response. Sitting the paddle down, I shimmied towards the cooler in the middle of the boat, between her seat and mine. “I brought along an extra special snack just for the occasion!”

She spun in her seat to perch over the top of the cooler in anticipation. “Is it chocolate pudding?” she asked with a grin as wide as the mouth of Mobile Bay. Though chocolate pudding had long been staple of our adventures, “Not today,” I responded. “Is it a peanut butter cup?” Again, another trusty and faithful companion on many of our trips … “No silly, those are deserts. This is a snack!” And with that, I retrieved a block of cheese, a bottle of hot sauce, a sleeve of crackers and a package of what most would think was deli meat after a casual glance.

“What is that?” she asked … almost with a tone of disappointment. Clearly, it was not chocolate.

“That is souse meat,” I responded with jubilance in my voice, as I began preparing the first tasty morsel. “You see, first we take the cracker and put a small square slice of cheese on it. Then we dab just a drop of hot sauce, then we top it all off with a thin slice of souse meat.” I plopped the entire cracker sandwich in my mouth …. “Deeeeliccious!”

Her facial expression suggested she was suspicious. “Is there any chocolate pudding in there?” Her eyes shifted back to the cooler! I laughed and she relaxed a little as she giggled … “Come on … just try it!” I made her one. Timidly, and with a little encouragement, she chomped the cracker sandwich in half and began to chew. He facial expression went from one of hesitation to one of appreciation, and realizing the snack was indeed a tasty treat, she chomped down on the second half of the cracker and then looked at me as if to say, “Why don’t you have my next cracker sandwich made?”

Like Chef Boy R Dee, I was quickly stirring it up, in the kayak kitchen … making one tasty snack after another … and before I realized the time, we had eaten half a pack of souse meet and almost an entire sleeve of crackers.

We had drifted near the bank of the creek … too busy making souse crackers to paddle … and we came to rest in the tall reeds of the shoreline. The sun flickered across the water and through the tree tops from the opposing shoreline and the warmth of its glow radiated through the still cool air of early spring. With full bellies and full hearts, I asked, “Are you having a good time?” In as much as she could have reclined in the seat of the kayak, she did … and with her eyes squinted closed, she grinned and said "The best, dad. The best.”

Who knew? Who knew that childhood boredom would be belayed not by the spectacle of alligators lurking nearby, nor by the hope of a passing bear, and not even by the majesty of the largest Cypress tree in the State of Alabama … but instead, by the satisfaction of a good snack, shared over an ice chest while floating aimlessly down the creek.

The sun felt warm as it baked on the back of my neck. Tempted though I was just to sit and maybe even nap, we still had “another mile or two” to go be fore we could rest. I picked up the paddle and gently stroked backwards … careful to not rock the boat, thinking Banks might almost be asleep. One stroke and then two, and we were out of the reeds. A for ward stroke down river and we were back underway.

I saw Banks’ hands seemingly fall limp by her side as she slid down in the seat of the kayak.

A second forward stroke and then a third and she shuffled just a bit … “Dad,” her voice was low and quiet. “Yes, baby,” I almost whispered.

“That sure was a good snack.”

I smiled with satisfaction … and didn’t respond. Three strokes later her voice woke the stirring of the waters beneath the boat again. “Dad?”

“Yes, baby?” I whispered again.

“What is souse meat?”

I reached forward with the paddle and pulled another stroke and quietly whispered … “It’s just fancy bacon … that’s all” and a few minutes later she was sleeping peacefully … with a full belly and a full heart.

Walt Merrell writes about life, family and faith.  An avid hunter and outdoorsman, he enjoys time “in the woods or on the water” with his wife Hannah, and their three girls, Bay, Cape and Banks. They also manage an outdoors-based ministry called Shepherding Outdoors.  Follow their adventures on Facebook, Instagram and YouTube at Shepherding Outdoors. You can email him at shepherdingoutdoors@gmail.com.