Birthplace: Arroyo Grande, California, USA
Date of Birth: 06/04/1901
Leo Estrada (Uncle Leo) was Grandpa Rudy’s younger brother and they both shared many of the same beliefs and ethics. Both men had a strong love for their family, a respect for their fellow man, and pride in their county. In their younger years, both served their country as US Marines and were musicians in the Marine Band. Both men loved to hunt and were excellent shots…and that’s where many of the similarities ended. Where Grandpa Rudy’s exterior appeared to be as tough as nails, Uncle Leo was always grinning and easily approachable. His appearance was warm and comfortable as an old flannel shirt. This sweet disposition served Leo well in many of his dealing with his brother, particularly when it came to hunting. It is no secret that over the years, a handful of “mistakes” were made at the Ranch. If you happened to be one of the unlucky guys who made the mistake, you knew Grandpa Rudy was going to dedicate his entire day to you, making sure you fully understood the ramifications of your poor judgement. Now when Leo made a mistake, it always came on the day he was going back to the ‘Valley’ and hadn’t seen a legal deer all weekend. Grandpa and I would usually be sitting outside the cabin at mid afternoon, hear a shot in the backyard, and then listen for a quail whistle, which was Leo’s signal he got something. Then, Leo would show up with traces of blood on his hands and begin his lengthy account of what had gone tragically wrong. With his voice barely above a whisper, he would explain how the deer appeared to be a buck, acted like a buck, how it ran into the brush, how he was certain it was a legal buck, and how he shot the deer. The story was damn near identical each time Leo told it, and Grandpa response was always the same…”there’s no reason to let the meat go to waste”; and that was it. No questioning, no lecture, no discussion. I was a young boy then and was always curious about Uncle Leo’s stories because frankly, there was no better hunter in the group than Leo. He had the eyesight of a hawk, could track like a blood hound, sneak like a lion, and knock down a deer at 150 yards on the run, so it just didn’t add up to me; but I knew better than to question my elders.
It’s true about Uncle Leo’s hunting prowess and it was demonstrated to me on more than one occasion. There was one hunt where Uncle Leo pointed out a deer across the canyon, lying down near the top of the ridge. We couldn’t make out what it was but Leo said we’ll just sneak up behind it and if it’s legal, we’ll get it. It was noon and hotter than hell, and frankly I wasn’t interested in sneaking up on anything other than a cold homebrew at the cabin. But Uncle Leo was still hunting and sneaking up on that deer was just the right thing to do. So he checked the wind, eyeballed a route, and we set out. The distance across the canyon to the top of the hill wasn’t that long, but we might as well been crossing a mind field for as slow and deliberate as he went. Almost two hours later, we were standing right behind that deer (which was a doe) and was so close that Leo hit it with a rock while it lay in its bed. He smiled and was as satisfied with himself as if he just bagged a big buck. This was Uncle Leo’s way. He taught me how to be patient, watch, listen, and that there can always be deer where there are no deer. Hanging inside the house above the front window are horns from a four-point buck that I had shot at but didn’t get while hunting alone. It was a huge buck that dropped to the ground like it was dead when I shot him. In my excitement I ran over to the deer, which jumped up and disappeared into the brush before I could get another shot off. Unfortunately, I had to leave later that day but Uncle Leo showed up, so I told him the whole story about the big deer. He said, don’t worry I’ll get him for you. True to his words, the next day he got the deer and saved the nice set of horns to give to me later (along with the front foot I had shot that originally caused the buck to drop).
I was blessed to spend many of my summers in the company of Grandpa Rudy and Uncle Leo. It was a treat to listen to them tell stories of their time in the service, their hunts, and the many good times they enjoyed together as boys. At times, they would speak in Spanish and I have to believe that many of those conversations were not meant for my ears. Often in the evenings after dinner they would play music, both were very talented musicians. Leo would play the guitar and mandolin, Grandpa would play the trumpet, guitar, and steel saw with a violin bow. Many of the songs were Mexican folk songs and they would sing as they played, laughing at each other when they forgot the lyrics or got a little off tune. Much of the time I had no idea what was being said; I just enjoyed listening to them play. Later in the evening we would all go outside and star gaze while listening to Vin Scully broadcasting a Dodgers game. It was during those times, that Uncle Leo introduced me to the satellites. He had studied them for some time and could tell you where you could spot them and when they would be coming over in the night’s sky. I was fascinated with how the satellites appeared to be like stars, but continually on the move….I’m still fascinated when I see them.
Uncle Leo was a gentleman in every respect of the word. He was a saintly man with a gentle hand and loving heart. I felt a special bond to Uncle Leo for he had the patience to teach a young boy to appreciate what most of us take for granted; the enjoyment of the hunt; a cool afternoon breeze; the beauty of a summer’s night; and a drink with an old friend.
Thank you Uncle Leo.
Bill Jr. 2010
