Everything I Learned About Perseverance, I Learned from a 5-Year-Old Boy Dressed as Chewbacca
Originally published in The Greeley Tribune on January 6, 2024.
Bright blue eyes, wild sandy blond tresses, binoculars around his neck, and his trusty, lever action Daisy BB gun in tote.
He was on a mission.
Stacy McCloud’s son, Saxon, after bagging his prize rabbit after a good long stalking. Photo/Stacy McCloud.
We are living in a world where people have been stuck in status quo quicksand—unable to free themselves and move forward either out of laziness or fear of failing. The terror is as paralyzing as if Medusa’s gaze met them and froze them in the swampy marsh. They’re unable to advance, taking no steps to unfreeze themselves and break the ties that bind them.
We’re left with lifeless statues everywhere of people who once had aspirations, dreams, and drive. Discipline, perseverance, motivation, diligence, and ambition are words lost from our vocabulary. Advancement in society and life for our individual betterment seems to be bred out more with each generation.
Living on 5 acres, my family often sacrifices recreational weekends for property maintenance. We've often traded fun in the sun for working in the pastures, mending fences, pulling weeds, mowing fields, and weed-whacking fence lines.
The fall of 2016 was the fall before I started archery hunting abroad. My husband and I were working on our stone retaining wall and putting our two youngest kids in small, attainable jobs throughout the day. The day was chilly, but the sun was high in the sky. We started the day wearing layers but soon had a pile of sweatshirts, gloves, and hats next to our waters and our sunscreens.
For our 8-year-old daughter and 5-year-old son, the day’s work was interrupted by hours of breaks and play. Move wood, take a break, pull weeds, take a break, and play with the dogs. While my husband ran the skid-steer, I would occasionally check on the kids only to find them chasing butterflies, playing with the barn kitties, digging holes, or playing fetch with a pet.
Outside days were often like this. Little did I know that this unique day would gift me something I’d have forever—a life lesson from my beautiful five-year-old son with his huge toothless smile and wild golden locks.
Between catching frogs, terrorizing his sister, moving wood, and cuddling kittens, I watched Saxon put on his Chewbacca Halloween costume, slide his Bog muck boots over the legs of the Star Wars ensemble, grab his BB gun, and head out the mudroom door.
Saxon on a different hunting trip—a little older and a little more experienced. Photo/Stacy McCloud
I asked no questions and just watched the kid head down our driveway. Bright blue eyes, wild sandy blond tresses, binoculars around his neck, and his trusty, lever action Daisy BB gun in tote. He was on a mission. Although with this child it wouldn’t be an impossible mission, it did seem secret in nature.
I had no fear about his intentions. This little hunter had been raised around guns. and even at his young age, he had been taught how to safely handle a BB gun and NEVER, EVER point it at a human or a domestic animal. My interest in his actions was less concerned and more curious.
I watched him shuffle in his boots to the end of our long driveway. He crossed over to a pasture where he meticulously propped his BB gun up against the fence, and on his tippy toes, he lifted his body onto the lowest fence post until he was balancing on his belly just before dropping his feet to the other side. He collected his rifle and walked delicately a little bit further. Stealthily, he dropped to a knee, took aim, and shot at something I hadn’t seen.
I then saw his target dart up toward the house. It was confirmed, it now knew it was in the crosshairs of this country boy, and that rabbit bolted back up toward the house, searching for sanctuary. Saxon put the binoculars up to his eyes, tracking his prey. He calmly collected himself and headed in the direction of his target.
I grabbed a couple of waters from the house, pulled my husband from his job, and sat on the stone wall we were building to take a break and watch our son stalk the rabbit.
Saxon followed the rabbit gingerly and patiently. He continually snuck up on the creature, took aim, and fired. The rabbit would run. Our son would watch through the binoculars, then drop them to dangle around his waist and trudge forward slowly again. This went on and on for 15 minutes between the detached garage, the barn, the house, and the pastures. The pair traveled the entirety of our property.
We watched quietly; our silence only interrupted by our giggling. Our child was patient and relentless. This little Chewbacca was not giving up; that was clear. He had set his mind to the dispatching of this rabbit (although it did seem more like the bunny might have had a heart attack before dying from a shot by a long-range BB).
The kid and the critter zig-zagged our property for half an hour before the rabbit escaped onto the neighbor’s property. Saxon propped his gun and his body through that fence too and continued the hunt. Little did the bunny realize it had picked the property of the boy’s grandparents. Poor Bugs was in real trouble now. He didn’t realize that if needed, Saxon would acquire the help of his Grandpa Bill, and then the hunt would really be on. The rabbit didn’t have a chance.
Saxon showing off his iguana after a hunt in Puerto Rico. Photo/Stacy McCloud
As Collin and I went back to work, I amused myself with the concepts of hunting and the characteristics it takes to be a good hunter. Our young Wookie warrior had already mastered patience and preparation. What was unclear was if it was his marksmanship that needed help or if he was simply using the wrong tool for the hunt.
While my body was back to building the wall, I couldn’t get Saxon and the rabbit out of my mind. I was so impressed with how driven and dedicated that curly, sandy-haired boy was. He wasn’t giving up. He set his mind to what he wanted and was going to do all he could to achieve his goal. My 5-year-old had “stick-to-it-ness,” patience, and perseverance. I often lacked all 3.
As we were wrapping up our work, my father called and invited us down to his house to have an appetizer and a drink and to watch the turkeys start roosting in their trees. As we got to their driveway, a little Chewy excitedly greeted us. He was jumping up and down and told us he shot the rabbit.
He dragged us into the house to show us his prize. I expected to see a fluffy rabbit, but what I was greeted by instead was my father with an ear-to-ear grin, holding a freezer-sized Ziplock bag with a skinned and quartered rabbit in it. Needless to say, we enjoyed rabbit stew later that week made by Saxon and Grandpa Bill.
This meal, prepared by a toothless little boy with discipline, perseverance, motivation, diligence, and ambition, was something we could all learn a little lesson from.
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