Must Have Outdoors

Les Brown was a man full of stories. A retired Game Warden from the Missouri Department of Conservation, Les had seen many things through his lifetime.

I can remember sitting in his living room through the years, laughing as he relived each one. Even though every story he told was different and entertaining in its own unique way, they all shared the same passion he had for the great outdoors.

Les would never call himself a role model, a father figure, or a man that other young men modeled themselves after, but he was. He would quickly shrug off a thank you or a compliment, but he took it just the same. Even in his last years when we tried to record his stories he wouldn’t have it. He didn’t want that kind of attention.

When a line of Missouri Department of Conservation employees showed up to his funeral last year dressed in their uniform, you could also tell that he was a man well respected among his industry.

Les was passionate about the outdoors, and he passed it on. He passed it on to my dad who looked up to him as a father figure and hunted with him many years, teaching him a lot of what he now knows. He passed it on to my brother, who himself is now an employee of the Missouri Department of Conservation. He passed it on to me, who as a young girl was hesitant to hunt when none of my friends did the same.

My dad and I had an opportunity to go hunting together this turkey season, and I was able to use Les’ old Winchester Model 1300. It was like hunting with an old friend. When I took it out of the safe I smiled to myself as I saw the small, round, yellow sticker that Les always had on every one of his guns that said “Be Safe”.

As we stood in the dark that crisp early morning, we heard a gobble ring through the valley. I looked at my father and his instinct quickly kicked in “Let’s go”. We made our way down the valley as the gobbler hit time and time again. As we got closer my heart raced and my legs shook, but I was having the time of my life.

When we knew we were close, we quickly climbed up on a ridge and found a place to sit. The gobbler was close and getting closer. The brush was thick, and our eyes were peeled. Dad called and he responded, and then the gobbler just stopped. After a few minutes (which seemed like eternity…) a gobble rang out so close it made me jump. As soon as I got ready, a red head shot up through the green spring brush not 25 yards away. As he turned, I was able to take my first turkey with Les’ old gun.

There’s not a word to describe that moment. It was more than hunting and the thrill of the chase; it was a tradition that had just been passed on. It was great to be able to experience that with my dad. That’s how it starts, with one person’s passion that filters down through the generations. I can only imagine the generations that Les’ passion will continue to touch.

I was able to take pictures and share the story with all of my friends, but there was one person who I really wanted to go see. We stopped by that afternoon to see Les’ wife, Dorothy, and again in that living room we laughed and relived stories, only this time they were stories of Les.

-Katie Hill