Disabled hunters USA
July 14th, 2005 by Administrator
Disabled hunters take on the outdoors — The forest is dark and the birds are still sleeping as Kody Eldridge’s wheelchair rattles along a winding path.
Kody’s father struggles to keep the chair rolling down the rocky trail as a camouflage-clad hunter leads the way.
The group emerges into a clearing. Just ahead sits a hunting blind — an igloo-shaped tent with round cutouts for 13-year-old Kody to look through as he searches for the day’s prey — wild turkey.
Following the whispered instructions of hunter Mike Deane and his wife, Marisa, Kevin Eldridge rolls his son backward into the blind. Deane, the designated turkey caller, slips away into the woods.
The others zip themselves into the tent. Kody lifts a shotgun, pokes the barrel through a window and settles back into his wheelchair to sit and wait.
Sitting and waiting are no big deal, Kody says. They’re his specialty.
An affirmation of life
Sprinkled across this forest east of Richmond on this recent morning are others like Kody — members of a national group of disabled nature lovers called the Wheelin’ Sportsmen.
Since the group was founded in Alabama in 1996, chapters have sprung up in every state. With its partner, the National Wild Turkey Federation, the group’s hunting and fishing trips have attracted everyone from a 7-year-old blind girl who shot her first deer, to a 96-year-old stroke victim who caught her first fish.
Though hunting is a sport associated with death, the Wheelin’ Sportsmen say for them, hunting is an affirmation that life doesn’t stop just because they have a handicap.
“It’s not about killing and catching,” says the group’s founder Kirk Thomas, who was paralyzed from the waist down after a tree fell on his back during a hunting trip in 1992. “It’s about getting disabled people back in the outdoors.”
Once they get over their hesitation, some Wheelin’ members say, they are surprised to discover that hunting is therapeutic, providing feelings of serenity and peace.
For Kody, paralyzed from the midthigh down since birth due to spina bifida, sulking over his condition just won’t do. From his wheelchair, he’s played tennis and paintball, taken archery lessons and is hoping to go skydiving.
Why push himself so much? Kody shrugs. He’s just a regular kid who likes to have fun.
Hours of patient waiting
In the hunting blind, Kody’s father glances at his watch. The sun has risen, and an hour of sitting in silence, hoping a turkey will wander by, has passed.
Five hours into the hunt, a trip to nature’s restroom becomes pressing for Kevin Eldridge. He wiggles out of the blind. The minutes tick by.
Suddenly, something close to the side of the tent makes a raspy sound.
Kody leans forward, searching for the source of the noise.
Stretched out in a patch of sunshine next to the tent is his dad, asleep and snoring.
A moment to remember
It’s 4:30 p.m., and nearly twelve hours have passed since the group arrived at the clearing. They’re getting ready to pack up when …
“I think I see a turkey!” Mike Deane whispers excitedly.
Two birds are lurching toward the blind. Kody grips his gun. The turkeys amble closer, and then disappear into a patch of tall weeds.
Fifteen minutes pass. Weary from the weight of the gun, Kody’s arms begin to sag.
One of the birds emerges from the weeds, heading toward the woods. In a few seconds, it will be gone for good.
“He’s too far away — shoot the second one,” Marisa Deane whispers.
The second bird appears and heads for the trees.
“Take him!” Deane whispers urgently. The gun trembles in Kody’s hands. He hesitates.
“GO!” Deane hisses.
BANG!
The recoil snaps Kody back in his wheelchair. The shot strikes the ground and the bird soars, unharmed, into the trees.
A weary Kevin Eldridge slowly pulls his son back up the rocky path through the trees to their car.
As the clearing slowly disappears from view, Kody glances once more toward the trees where the turkey made its flight to freedom.
And he smiles.
National group leads expeditions
By KRISTEN GELINEAU / Associated Press
07/13/2005PROVIDENCE FORGE, V