The story of Hunter Gillen Bailey should be just beginning, with a majority of the chapters unwritten. Where do you start? Hunter was born on January 14, 1992, and his love for the outdoors was apparent as soon as he could start walking. With a name like Hunter, he was destined to be an outdoorsman. His dad, Rusty Bailey, described Hunter as “truly an original good ole boy” who “enjoyed the experience more than the actual harvesting of his pursuit.”
His grandfather, Al Williams, started calling him Buck Shot when he was just 3 or 4 years old. “It seemed to fit. I called, and he would respond.” Paula Wilkinson, Hunter’s mother, described him as “a fishing nut” that “loved the water and outdoors from a very young age.” Hunter made an impression on everyone he met from Lake City Middle School to Bucholz (Class of 2010), through his time at FGC’s Law Enforcement Academy, and Fire School. Sadly, the last chapter ended on December 14, 2013, but that’s not where Hunter’s legacy ends.
Photo of Hunter’s empty deer stand last December.
To me, the story of Hunter Bailey begins, and lives on, with his family, and the impact that he had on everyone with his overwhelming positivity and energy.
He was more positive than a pack of protons, and had more energy than the Energizer bunny.
“His parents did the most amazing job raising a true southern gentleman! Stories of Hunter will live on through the ones of us who were blessed enough to be a part of his journey,” Hunter’s friend Rachel Little said.
I first met Hunter’s mother, Paula, in the fall of 2006. I was a brand new teacher at Summers Elementary. I knew nothing about teaching, but I was good with kids and computers, and was willing to learn. I went from being self-employed, with a responsibility of one, to a special area teacher, with a responsibility of 950. I was thrown into the water with a mixture of kindergartners who weren’t potty trained, to 5th graders who were 12 going on 22, and Paula was my life raft.
We essentially shared 2 classrooms with a community hallway and bathroom as a divider, and anytime I needed anything, I’d go to Paula. She always had time for me, she always helped, and she never judged. She always helped everyone. Paula’s class was superb and I tried to mimic what she was doing, because as Harry Wong told us first year teachers, watch and learn, and steal from the best! It wasn’t just her teaching, she was there for me as a friend, and I know all of the other faculty at Summers Elementary loved and respected her both as a person and a teacher.
Hunter and his mom, Paula Wilkinson, sharing a hug.
I met Hunter’s dad, Rusty, later that year, as we held the same job (Tech Lab), at different schools. Again, I knew nothing. I was greener than Fenway Park’s Green Monster. Rusty, and the other Tech Lab teachers opened their doors for me, but I remember something distinctly standing out about Rusty. Nothing shook him. He always had a smile, and almost like a character from Seinfeld, he was essentially “the happy guy.” No matter what may have happened in the classroom, or out of the classroom, the guy was made of Teflon; negativity wasn’t going to stick on him.
Hunter possessed the best of both his mom and dad.
When I asked Rusty to answer a few questions, he wrote a heartfelt email that could have filled this entire story. You can feel and hear the emotions and love pouring through the words and memories.
Hunter and his dad, Rusty, on a fishing trip.
“We’ve gotten dirty, been bug bitten, lost lots of sleep, sat out in the field at night with good friends, gazing at the stars. We’ve cuddled up in a sleeping bag on the hammock at 2:37 AM while it’s 17 degrees just to count shooting stars (on a school night), we’ve gone to the beach just to watch a rocket launch or fly kites or toss a casting net into the surf. Built a bunch of bon fires just to “roast” marshmallows. We’ve caught rainbows on a fly in Alaska, Brookies in the Wind River Range out west. A moose at the edge of Denali has chased us. Going with Papa and Nanny B to St. Augustine and cruising the beach on a skateboard behind a kite. Flown over Kinglsey Lake in a go-cart sized plane, zip-lined through the trees in North Georgia.”
Much the same happened when I spoke with Paula, the memories came rushing back like they happened just yesterday. We spent well over an hour on the phone just reminiscing, as she described all of their memories intertwined with the outdoors. “He would fish in a pond for hours without a bite. He’d sit there, and try and try. I remember when he caught his first red grouper, he was as happy as he could be, until he had to throw it back!” She described their annual tradition for the opening weekend of scalloping season. “As soon as scallop season began, we were out there. We planned that first weekend. He loved scalloping, he was a natural in the water, and started swimming at a very early age”.
Some of their stories overlap in funny ways, which is how most of Hunter’s stories ultimately turned out. Rusty remembers the moose chase in Alaska, because he was there. Paula remembers the moose chase in Alaska, because she received a 1am phone call from an inconsolable Hunter, who only could muster that he had been chased by a moose. He was terrified that night, much like Paula was from middle of the night phone call, when her half asleep reply was simply “Do you know it’s 1am?”
Hunter’s story ultimately took a turn, as two more individuals came into play. Divorce can be such an ugly thing, but leave it to Hunter to turn it into an opportunity to positively touch the lives of Mark Wilkinson, his step father, and his stepmother, Trish Bailey.
Instead of having split families, Hunter sculpted two loving families from the situation like Michelangelo in his prime.
Trish remembered how sweet and respectful Hunter was the very first time they met. Mark said almost the exact same thing, word for word. Trish told Rusty that she vividly remembered that first meeting and didn’t know she could hurt that bad. Trish recalled how Hunter presented her with some yellow flowers and said, “Hi, my name is Hunter,” and that was all it took! They shared an awesome relationship – including many deep and funny conversations, and she loved Hunter like he was her own.
Pictured are Hunter’s stepmother Trish Bailey, sister Tara, brother Remy, Hunter, and Rusty.
Rusty said that his whole family loved and adored Hunter, and had a part in raising him, from his cousins, to his aunts and uncles. His Uncle, Kevin Bailey, spent a lot of time with Hunter, and the two shared a mutual admiration for one another, and mutual interests including stereo systems, rims, music, and simply spending time outdoors. From silly string fights to his time with Remy, who has his driving desire to fish, and Tara, who already appreciates the great outdoors and can’t wait to just get out there, Hunter lives on through his brothers and sisters.
Mark Wilkinson’s daughter, Jessica, was lovingly called “squirt” by Hunter. Her memories are of a big brother that “was the biggest teddy bear. I could talk to him about anything and he would always be there for me not matter what. It still seems unreal. I know he’s watching over me everyday, whether it’s on the field, in the classroom, in my car, or anywhere. He’s my guardian angel and he’s my superstar.” Cooper, at just 7 years old, always loved the attention of his older brother, and continues to ask about him daily. One of their favorite things to do was to shoot the bow and arrows at a target in the front yard, and then play hunting games on the Playstation.
Hunter (from left) is pictured with his mom, Paula, stepfather Mark Wilkinson, stepsister Jessica Wilkinson, and youger brother Cooper (front)
Mark has many memories of Horseshoe Beach and Pepperfish fishing trips when they’d leave about 6:30 a.m., be gone all day, and then stop in Chiefland and get a Ralph’s Burger. He recalled another offshore trip where the water was as clear as a saltwater aquarium, and they were catching one black bass after another, and Hunter actually reeled up two fish – one on the hook, and the other had hung onto the weight. On another trip, with the same clear water, he recalled the comedy and frustration of seeing one sheepshead after another pass their baits, over, and over again. You could hear the chuckle in his voice as he remembered these days, and Hunter’s reactions, as if he were back there in a time machine.
Hunter’s legacy lives on not just from the memories, but also from his fish – literally. Mark and Paula told a story that recently they were going through the freezer and they came across a mystery garbage bag. They had no idea what it was, but after further inspection, it turned out to be a giant frozen bait-ball Hunter had plopped in the freezer probably 5 years ago. They both got emotional describing how still today, almost 5 months after that tragic night, that they still miss and anticipate the door opening, and Hunter “bee bopping in, hanging out for a few hours”.
He’d always walk in with a smile, pass out hugs, and be in a good mood – unless Paula got him about cleaning his room. They said recently while at work, all of the co-workers pulled up their old text messages from Hunter, read them out loud, and immediately the entire room was filled with laughter.
For Rusty, the memories cut deep this Spring, as the NWTF (National Wildlife Turkey Federation) made this year unofficially a Hunter year for the Gator Gobblers. As the Jake Coordinator, Rusty was able to share stories of Hunter’s hunting and fishing during their activities.
“He truly enjoyed the outdoors. He enjoyed being part of creation. Seeing the moon set and sun rise. Hearing the sounds of the morning awakening. And also the sounds of the day going to “roost.” Hunter had a special awareness of the changing of the seasons. We would get excited when we first felt the change from summer to fall of the year. It was a daddy – son kind of thing. I would be outside in the evening as the sun was setting and a unique breeze would come by and within minutes, Hunter would call and ask if I felt it?”
For Hunter’s friends, his passion for life and outdoors were tied at the hip.
“Hunter Bailey didn’t care if it was 60 degrees outside or 100, if he had his mind set to be outside doing something then that’s what we were doing,” said Brandon Register.
Alyse Raulerson told a story about a fishing trip they took together, “One time we took his little gheenoeoe and we were floating around not catching anything. He noticed the dragonflies landing on the water and the fishes would eat them. So he caught me one and put it on my hook. Next thing I know I caught a fish…”
Although Hunter’s story ended too soon, he wouldn’t want it to end on a sad note. As everyone echoed in my discussions, they could go on forever telling stories that warmed their hearts about Hunter. Paula and Mark stated, “let’s remember the good stuff.” That’s the way to get through this tragic loss of life. “Remember the funny stuff he did, or his smile, that’s how we’ll get through it. Even the stupid stuff. Keep a positive attitude, and remember who Hunter was.” Rusty and Trish left these final thoughts “put that chore on the back burner and make time to make some memories. You never know when it will be your last time together. Find that opportunity to make a memory. It doesn’t have to be a big adventure it just has to be recognized, enjoyed and appreciated.”
To view a video memorial to Hunter Bailey, click on the link below, or scan with your QR reader.
