My grandfather, Tom Allen, was a rancher who raised sheep on the western slope of Colorado, near the town of Hotchkiss. Ranching played a vital role in my family for a long time; it was a way of life. Grandpa grew up on a ranch and began helping his father at a young age. As a child, he understood the cycle. Ranch kids have always known that raising livestock means food on the table, which is why this tale warms my heart.
One year, Grandpa went hunting with his brothers and some neighbors. This was another way to provide for the family, and it allowed the men to bond and enjoy some good old-fashioned fun.
On this particular hunting trip, the men brought alcohol to relax around the campfire after a long day of hunting. My grandfather also brought whiskey, which was not unusual, as he often had it around the house. However, Grandpa didn’t drink; he used whiskey for doctoring. When a person or an animal was injured or sick, he would use whiskey to help them.
As children, if we were ill and heard Grandpa was coming, we cried. We knew we were getting his version of a hot toddy, a concoction that burned out whatever ailed us. Bless his gruff heart, his rough mannerisms softened, and our grandfather became the sweetest of saints. In a gentle voice, he would calm our fears, place a cool cloth on our foreheads, and keep the covers pulled up tight. He would sit with us until we fell asleep and only leave our side if he believed we were on the mend. He treated animals with the same gentleness.
While on this hunting adventure, Grandpa shot a buck. When his fellow hunters returned to camp, they discovered that my grandfather had indeed shot a buck, but it rested quietly after its injury. Apparently, he had grazed the animal and brought it back to camp to clean its wounds with whiskey. The problem was that he didn’t have enough to properly tend to his patient, so he used others’ private stash too.
Mama recalled that people laughed at my grandpa for years after this incident because he brought his deer home. He bought a red collar with a bell, put it out to pasture, and kept it on his ranch where he knew it would be safe. That was also the last time the rancher ever went hunting.
Tales of a Family 