Hunting with my old man... Grab a beer!

[Dirty Steve]

Love the old man beyond belief but some of the sh*t we've gone through together might make you spray beer from your nostrils....

Story 1 of many ;)
Carry Lake I think , Horselfly moose hunting with my old man, Meaghan Meadows. We're staying at the lake in my 23 ft older travel trailer, He's about 60 and I'm 30 at the time. We've been hunting for about 5 days and my old man doesn't have the best personal hygiene. I have a serious case of sweaty ball, ass chap and some nut chaffe and I've gone for a swim in the lake 2 or 3 times in the last couple days!
I wake up at laying at the table bed, 5:30 in the morning with my face 8 inches from my old mans wrinkled white ass. He has his tightie whitie ball huggers that he has turned inside out, front to back for the past 5 or 6 days down at his ankles. With one eye open and some serious rum breath I say to him... What the f*ck are you doing??? He turns around with our only dish cloth in his hand and his mushroom head poking out of the moss patch and says to me... " What the F*ck does it look like? Cleaning my sweaty balls with the dish cloth" .... Our only dish cloth for a 2 week hunt!

[Dirty Steve]

Different trip, same lake... We show up at 5 pm, same lake, day 1 of our 7 day moose hunt the next year or a couple years later. My old man is kind of a take charge, get the hell out of my way, what the hell do you know kind of guy...... So I crack a beer, hit the lawn chair and watch the sh*t sow...
He parks the truck on a side hill with the camper and proceeds to pull the camper off the truck so that we can use the truck for the next week. I can clearly recall saying " Dad... What the f*ck are you doing???" Responded with "shut up, stay the hell out of my way!"... (Hence the beer and the lawn chair).
The camper is a 1976 security POS with rotten corners and 3 screw jacks... 2 on the high side and one at the centre point on the low side. ( Not trying to be a lawn chair engineer at this point for fear of poking the bear)
Things get interesting here... the one screw jack on the low side won't go high enough so he starts stacking rocks under the tripod for the one jack....
Now once again, I don't proclaim to be an engineer at this point or even point out the obvious, but this really doesn't look good and the old man is doing his best to lead by example and take charge...
Well SH*T!.... The camper comes off the truck and tumbles into the lake.....
Holy Sh*t... day one..... Food and beer everywhere, camper jacks all toast... losing daylight... Oh Man...
Got the camper back upright with the jackall, it sat on the ground for a week, somehow got it back onto the truck at the end of the trip and I think its still somewhere in his yard 15 years later...

[Dirty Steve]

Day 5 ... One of these hunts at the same lake...
I have learned to spend my days hunting with some distance between me and my old man, his sweaty balls, and I have learned to burn the dish cloths....
I spend my afternoons fishing for a couple hours and have come back to camp each day with 2-3 decent fish for dinner and breakfast. We're on the lake so I clean the fish and toss the guts into the lake in about 5 feet of water roughly 30-40 ft from shore.
I show up back at camp at about 2 in the afternoon and my old man is in his 7 day tightie whities ( 2 days front, 2 days backwards, 2 days inside out , 2 days back inside out) and he's 6 feet deep in the lake at the end of October... As is standard, I holler at him "What the F*CK are you doing??? "
His reply, " Getting dinner you A**hole!, Somebody tossed a dozen fish heads in here!"
Yes, he collected all of them, a week old some of them, proceeded to make fish head soup and left it on the stove for 5 days... If I even went near it to toss it he would come at me with the shovel in hand hollering and swearing!
Oh man.... I could write a book about this sh*t......

[Moose63]

Sounds like a lot fun!!! Keep them comin'

[Dirty Steve]

Day 2... one of these hunts, same lake.
He shoots a rabbit with the 410 and it runs around in circles until he unleashes his junkyard dog on it to finish it. Not perfect, but Elmer Fudd and Pluto are working to the best of their abilities...
Rabbit goes in the back of the truck at 8:30 am. Noon rolls around and I say to him "Dad, you should deal with that rabbit"... Ahhh Sh*t.... Poked the bear!
Evening hunt is over, its getting dark, now we're collecting firewood... On top of his prized rabbit... Once again the bear gets poked and I have been schooled by "The Hunter Gatherer."
At this point, I am not eating that rabbit!
Day 8 rolls around, the rabbit still hasn't ben gutted and its still in the back of the truck.
Day 9 rolls around, we get home, unload, rabbit goes in the fridge at Elmers house, fur, guts, bark.... holy sh*t... True story.. It's OK now though, the rabbit is in the fridge!
Day 14... Had some time to chill, get a shower, burn the dishcloths, melt down the aluminum fish head soup pot,... You know, the usual stuff. Rabbit gets gutted and skinned, tossed back in the fridge for dinner.... in 2 weeks.
Day 25 or somewhere around there... My old man must have grown up in the Great Depression you would think ( Nahhhh, born in 48). The Rabbit comes out of the fridge unbeknown to me and he cooks it and eats it!
He said it was the sickest he's ever been in his life!

[Rayne]

These are gold keep them coming!

[Islandeer]

Thanks for the smiles!!!!

[butterz]

Pissing my pants reading this. Wow

[albravo2]

Dirty Steve, you tell stories like my kids will tell stories. Keep it up!

[Bustercluck]

I'm looking for a new hunting partner if you're done with him

[Dirty Steve]

I had to back off hunting with him for a while....
7:20A end of Lone Prairie... We were hunting private property and had a master plan that we came up with the night before...( it was a doozy ) He would go up the left side, I would go up the right side of a 30 acre field that was full of White Tails every morning. Apparently I move a little quicker than him at this point....
There's a road that crosses the top of this field we're flanking about 1/2km up. Somehow I make it to the middle of the road, our meeting point, before him. I'm in the ditch waiting for any movement in cammo with a red hat... Thank god! I see him pop out down the road so I hop out of the ditch and wave at him from about 300 yards...
At 62 years old for some crazy f*cking reason he thinks I'm a dear shaking my head at him until he proceeds to put his rifle to his shoulder and scope me clear as day as a turkey vulture waving my wings. The rifle goes down... I see him scratch his head and then it comes back up again... Holy F*CK!!!!! I'm hollering at him, swearing, jumping up an down in and out of the ditch, hiding in a culvert..... Gahhhhhdddddd Damn...........
What do you do???? Smack him up side the head? Toss him in the ditch??? Fling his rifle in the bush?? Toss the bolt???
Yeah, hunting ended with my dear old Pops for a while. There was some serious thoughts of loading empty shells for him for a while...

[digger dogger]

Holy shit man, the 1st story, had me in tears.
I had to get the ol'lady to finish reading it to me, my eyes are chaffed from wiping tears and reading.
Just fricken awesome!!!

[HarryToolips]

Lol some good ones....

[Big jer]

Lol! Thanks for sharing the stories Steve! I’d love to see my sons stories about me and my rum days. ��

[RJHunter]

Haven't laughed that hard in a while! Thanks

[Boner]

Great stuff! You sir, have a gift of recalling some funny stories. Thanks for the laughs. :)

[tuner]

That was friggin awesome!

[.264winmag]

Holy Fak those are some gooders! Priceless times with the ole man, cherish them my friend.
Cheers

[Rhyno]

These are absolute gold, keep'm coming!

[Takla]

I hunted both with my dad and mom for over 30 yrs,every summer mom would be busy making and fine tuneing the "list' of everything any hunter could bring into the bush and fine tuneing it right up to the day we left for our annual moose/deer/bear family hunt.Over the yrs we wanted for nothing when we went into the bush,fresh baking was frozen and packed along with the ingredients for 14 days of 5 course meals.Mom never thru out a pillow case in 30 yrs as pillow cases make better god damed game bags then you can buy according to her..lol
There are soo many stories of all the highs and a few low's that can present themselves on remote trips,There were family births and deaths while we were in camp,we rarely came out early and we always came out with game.One of dads fav pranks was bringing glossettes raisings on the trip only hed get dry deer turds and get mom to coat them in chocolate and refill the box...then hand them out to any new comers that came along on our hunts..when in camp dad was like a teenager and he loved to joke around..
I still remember dads last moose he killed he was 82,my youngest son spotted it comeing down that same cutblock they parked thier camper on every fall,hood of the truck for a rest and his
trusty 40 yr old 300 win mag did its job.
Dad had a stroke in our McCleese lake deer camp at 84 and that was his last hunting trip and passed 2 yrs ago
RIP Dad

takla

[Dirty Steve]

2016, got our moose draw in region 9:13... We show up at 10 pm, get set up for the night in the tent trailer and get some rest for the morning journey across the river with the quads and up to the cabin we're staying for a week. It's a doozy getting up there... Holy Smokes....
First step in the morning is getting down to the river, the banks are like loon sh*t and we build a 2x10 plank highway down to the river to get the quads onto a 10 ft flat bottom punt and drag them across the river with the 12 ft aluminum.... Oh man... Pucker factor watching a $10,000. quad balancing on a 10 foot punt with a 200 ft rope attached... Luckily I was in my speedo the whole time and brought the good old Russet Potatoe to toss in as it was October and it seemed like I was hung like a fruit bat at the time....
No quads went for a wash, no fish were baited by the fruit bat, the Russet Potatoe in my speedo lived to see someones dinner plate a few nights later and we got Elmer Fudd across the river with a reasonably fresh set of tightie whities.
We get our sh*t in a group and start heading up to the cabin ( 12 kms of goat trail) 2 quads, 5 people and about 1000lbs of gear dragging behind my quad in al little trailer the pissing rain. It's coming down so hard I'm not sure if I should bust out the Speedo and good old Russet Potatoe or just pull my sh*t together and hammer through...
We get to a mud hole within 500 yards of the river, I drop in, and the little single axel rubbermaid trailer behind me with 800 lbs of gear, food and beer decides to have a little dirt nap on its side right in the middle of 3 feet of water and mud....
Oh man..... WTF do we do now... 800 lbs isn't easy to tip back up on it's wheels. I'm a big guy but this is going to take some serious commitment and a few beers when this is all over!
Before I can even put some though into it, good old Elmer Fudd has his bare white flakey ass balls deep in the mud complete with a couple sh*t tickets blowing in the wind and he says to me " What the F*ck are you doing??? Pass me the winch cable and lets get on with it!"
Once again... I'm kind of blinded by the mushroom head in the moss patch, not sure what the f*ck to make of my 68 year old man in a swamp up to his moss patch but I guess we better get on with it!
Took us 8 hrs to make it 12 kms but within the first 10 minutes of being at the lake we spotted 5 or 6 moose and brought home a 34 inch bull on the 3rd day.
"Elmer" AKA Doug Stevenson is 70 this year and I really hope to make it up there this year again with him so that he can finally bring home a bull himself.

[bottles]

I hope you guys make it up there so I can read the story. You guys got some good ones.

[BStrachan]

Lol thanks for sharing! I will never look at a wash cloth the same!