As a young boy, I often hunted squirrels with my grandfather. One day he made an amazing head shot on a bushytail that was carrying a hickory nut on a limb way out over a deep mountain basin. He gave me the spent .22 cartridge to keep as a good luck charm.
My grandfather was one of the toughest and kindest individuals I’ve ever known. As a teenager, he was forced to drop out of school to take my great-grandfather’s place in the coal mines after an accident. Later, he volunteered for the army and became a paratrooper over the South Pacific during WWII.
To this day, I take that old spent .22 shell with me every time I go into the woods. I don’t know if it brings me luck, but I do feel like a part of my grandfather is still with me when I carry it.
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