hunting memories with dad.

[frenchbar]

your cool memories hunting as a child with your dad..got any .

heres one of my favorites '

I was 13 and had the hunting bug big time ..waiting to go on trips with my dad was like waiting for santa to show at christmas :) couldnt sleep the night before..going over my gear ..what little i had ..that sort of thing .

we headed up on horses up into the alpine in early oct of 75.made the 6 hr trip in..and the closer i got the more exited i got ..ah the smell of the lupin and alpine meadows added to my excitement.kowing the muleys would be out grazing in the open meadows.

we set up camp and got stuff put away and the 3 of us went are seperate ways to hunt .isaw a couple smaller bucks that i would of taken either ..but had outsmarted me and skipped out on me.

we all met back at camp..dad had got a nice 4x4 hour away on foot from camp .and decided we would go get it the next day .next day me and dad took the horses over to get the deer ..when we came out of the trees there was a big wolf about 20 yrds from the buck ..dad didnt have his rifle ..so he yells give me your rifle ..the wolf starts takin off across the meadow..dad says hang on tight ..and starts blazing away at the wolf sitting atop his horse Lady..none of the shots hit the wolf ..but jesus i thought that was the coolest thing ever ..kinda john wayne like:wink: ive had a lot of great days hunting with him but that was the coolest day hunting with dad . etched in my mind forever .:-D

[Jetboater]

my dad always took us hunting before he went with the guys... kids were always first....he always let us shoot first and always taught us about the bush and what we could find in it...he always took us on these monster alpine hunts that he called power marches....

the best memory I have is one day we were watching a bunch of bull elk working a highcountry ridge as I was putting my pack on to chase them , he said he wanted to go.... the first 500 yds were steep...like real steep... to the point that it was using your hand to go straight up.... halfways up the hill my dad stops and sighs deeply... he looks at me and tells me he cant go any farther and that I should go by myself.... well..... I looked at him .. told him to give me his pack and rifle( the same way he did for me when I was little) and we climbed to the summit of the mountain....

when we sat up there gulping water water and scaring every elk on the mountain away... he looked at me and said it was the best day he has ever had......I cant wait to do it again with him next year.....

[arcadia]

2 awesome stories. Thanks gents.

[Big Lew]

My Dad took me with him hunting grouse, I was his retriever, starting at age 12, in 1958. I was just getting over rheumatic fever and wasn't allowed to run etc. until then. I could hardly contain myself, waiting for him to come home from work so we could go bird hunting. At age 14-18 he took me every year to Savona hunting mulies in the canyons below Indian Gardens Ranch and ducks up at Tunkwa Lake. From that time on, the tables were turned, and I took him with me all over B.C., hunting moose, deer, and birds until about 1984 when his eyesight prevented him from enjoying the holiday. He came along with my wife and kids during those last few years,and we all enjoyed the experience greatly.....sure miss those days....we most often enjoyed hunting success, although spending a week or 2 as a family in the backcountry was the main satisfaction....lots of wonderful memories....wish I could do it all over again.

[fuzzy]

In the fall of 2010 my 64 year old father got his core and pal so he could accompany his son hunting and not be "complete dead weight" as he put it.
So there we are 2 newbies camped above the snowline near Tunkwa lake with a 4 month old puppy on top of things. We hiked an old clear cut for a couple of hours. We hunkered down as the sun was starting to rise in an area that in our infinite wisdom and about 6 days of hunting experience combined deemed to look "deery".
Dad having sensitive ears has em packed full of cotton batten and is about as stealthy as a d-9 cat. So there we are sitting sharing a pair of binos and he spots 2 does and in a not so quiet, quiet voice(more like a low shout), " hey warren theres 2 deer, start rattling those old horns". After some time with no response from any bucks and the does wandered off we looked at each other and started laughing our guts out at the shear ridicoulousness of an old newbie and a younger newbie pretending that we actually had a clue about what we were doing.

Cant wait to do it again next year

fuzzy

[donp]

My father would spend every moment he could with me whether it was hunting or fishing. Before I was 10 I had passed the CORE course, my grandfather gave me my first centre fire rifle that year. A savage bolt action 30-30 with peep sights and his own special handloads. Practice, practice, practice and then 2 weeks before season opener I pick up my rifle and there is no front sight... A few calls to the old gunsmith in Williams Lake and a box of 3 sights of different sizes showed up. Found the one that worked the best and off we went. Second day of season, Sept 12, 1985 I shot my first deer. Just a spiker, (single horn as the other had broken off). Both of us were very proud. We continued through the season going out every weekend except when mother's projects took precedence. I don't remember whether there was anymore success but I am sure there was as my dad always got his moose. Now we can all appreciate the attention span of a 10 y/o boy, I lost track of the "horn". Come Feb we were in town for the annual big game banquet, I was walking around mesmerized by all the huge trophies hanging on the wall and then I stopped because there was MY HORN amongst all the others with a plaque that said MY FIRST DEER, Sept 12, 1985, Age 10 years. What a great moment for both of us and a memory that will be cherished forever. There was a number of people that came up to my father and I that night to offer their congratulations and to tell my father thanks for the great idea, or that they wished they had done that for their son. My father quit hunting in 2003 due to his age and disability and I miss his company very much come fall. He says that he still hunts but that it is through the photo album that i give him come winter each year. And yes that trophy is still on my wall amongst the many others and will always be there, Don.

[Chuck]

Yup! sure is great to think back on doing things with Dad. Bought me my first pocket knife, and after telling me to be careful with it, I almost cut some fingers off when it folded back over them. Bled like a pig for some time too, I recall. Still have the scars too.
I got my first mulie buck with him. It was across a deep, timbered draw, and when we finally got down and up the other side to it, some time had passed. He commenced to dress it out and somehow I felt really sorry for having shot it. I'm standing and watching him when suddenly I saw some movement off in the brush. There's a nice Whitetail buck watching us. Shoot it he tells me, and I couldn't. It soon spooked and then did I ever get a lecture... But it was just as well, as we had enough to deal with that mulie.
I suppose some guys aren't so lucky as me and my Dad. He went hunting in 1989 and hasn't returned...hope he's having some luck still.

[bear buster]

aug 15, 1991.
Opening day of moose, me and dad got up for coffee and a quick breakfast, then we went down the road to a spot where dad wanted to walk, it was a crisp cool morning wet walking in the grass from the light frost. We made our way into a series of medows and small cut blocks, we were coming into a small medow and dad dropped his smoke and got down on 1 knee, he motioned me to come up to where he was, I crawled up beside him and he pulled my arm so I was in front of him. I remember these next words like they were spoken to me yesterday,"there he is, take him" it was a huge bull( small 5x4) I put the old model 94 up to my shoulder, pulled the hammer back, just behind the shoulder, and BOOM! the old 30-30 bucked, 170gr silver tip flying, the moose stumbled, should I go again dad? and the look on his face said no need my boy. dad picked up his smoke, never said a word, then he said "today you became a man" Dad showed me how to gut it on my own, took a couple hours, but it was a day I will never forget. Thanks Dad, RIP good buddy.

[HIGHRPM]

Well,my old man was a chronic drunk that used to hunt {everything beware}. The couple of times he did take me out, he showed me in his own way, how not to hunt. He was a dam good teacher in that respect. My older brother was the one who came to my rescure and showed me the right way to hunt, how to respect the land and animals. He taught me how important the one shot one kill statement is for the animals sake. To this day I do my extreme best to do right by everyone and by everything that I hunt. Lots of great memories from hunts with many ethicaL people. Can't think of any other thing that I would rather do than hit the bush with someone and try to put food on the table and maybe a personal trophy on the wall. Congrats to all the people whos fathers did them right, very special moments that I missed, but hope to give to my son. Hopping for 2011 finally to be my year.

Merry Christmas, in case I forget !

[BillyBull]

One story that comes to mind, is back in the 80’s and on one of our annual trips we decided to try a new area –It’s the last day before were to head home, we hadn’t seen a good bull moose and we decide to go scouting.

We work are we up the meadows and into the back mountains; up the side we go and clear out the back to see what was there… now along the way were talking and chatting about this here spot and whether we should come back again…. And wouldn’t you know it, up pops a nice buck and scampers down the mountain side, followed by a harem of nice does. Well that wasn’t so bad, dad chuckles and we continue up to the next tier and decide to have lunch.

We drop the packs, and break out the sandwiches and all of a sudden we catch movement below in the canyon pass … grabbing the bino’s and ready the rifles we scan for our buck thinking he has circled back … when we catch sigh of a gorgeous looking cougar on the prowl heading down the game trail… Dam, neither one of us has a camera to catch this … Finishing up lunch and checking the time, we figure its time to start back to camp… I take a couple of steps and then I hear crashes of branches and rocks as I quickly turn I catch sight of a huge boulder going down the mountain side and my dad is laughing away…

I say what the …. are you doing… just trying to scare the deer down the mountain so that we won’t have so far to drag them… I start laugh … dad always seems to find a good size boulder to roll down the mountain side.

Well off we go down the mountain side and cross into the meadows and when a nice mountain storm rolls in with that brews with a nice blizzard wind and snow howling …

Were chatting about next year and planning what we should be doing when a nice bull moose cuts are trail about 50 yards in front of us…. well with the wind and snow blowing in our faces dad yells taken. Take what I say, I cant see him where did he go, he’s right there behind that tree, I say if you can see him you take him… well dad hadn’t shot a moose for a good number of years and this was the first time he and I had actually been together on a moose so we crouch a bit and move towards were the bull is walking and feeding and pointing his nose in the air – we split a bit and he barks out that familiar set of orders --- will take him on 3 --- 1 2 3 dbl-bang … the moose goes a step sways and down.

Dad looks at me and says told yah those boulders work.

Needless to say were still hunting the same area today and just as successful. And yes were working on next season already. Thanks dad.

[Gateholio]

Heck, I envy you guys with fathers that took you out hunting..

My Dad moved about the time I was born, and lost all his hunitng buddies. He never hunted again.

But hunting was in my blood, and I took it upon myself to go hunitng. Originally with a bow, when I was young, and as soon as I could get my own gun, I went at it.:-D

Something to keep in mind to all hunters- It's a REAl tough slog to start hunting without a mentor. Give them a break.:wink:

[hunter1947]

I wish I had had a dad the hunted when I was young and growing up :icon_frow..

[fuzzy]

"Something to keep in mind to all hunters- It's a REAl tough slog to start hunting without a mentor. Give them a break.:wink:"



Damn right Gates,
HBC is my mentor:???::mrgreen:

fuzzy

[Big Lew]

For those of you that unfortunately were'nt able to enjoy Father/son hunting experiences, you have my sympathy. I'll never forget mine, nor will I forget taking my son hunting, and of him bagging his first buck.
Just remember, there's a lot of satisfaction and warm feeling inside when you can take anyone out hunting, especially on their first few times, and it's even a greater feeling if they are able to shoot something.
I took all 3 of my younger brothers hunting when they first started, and was there when 2 of them got their first bucks.
I know that many of you have gone out of your way to take , or to help others enjoy the hunting experience. It makes a big difference, and I thank you on their behalf.

[bigneily]

All my memories of hunts with my dad are cherished, He passed away a few years ago now, Not a day goes by without thoughts of him.My best memorie would have been of him being with us when my son shot his first buck. He was with us that day just not the way i wanted him to be there. To everyone out there who still hunts with their dad's or other family, Enjoy it life can be so short sometimes.....Neil

[trapperRick]

I was three when my dad started taking me, I miss him every day. Now I take my sons and I hope they take theirs

[leadpillproductions]

Way to many to list , I only wish he could still do it .

[E. Fudd]

I was 8 years old and it was grouse season back in Nova Scotia. A few days before heading out dad took me to Rudderhams sports to get me a swiss army knife. I was pretty excited to say the least. Anyway, Dad, me, and our duck trolling retriever left home for the 2 hour drive to reach the Cape Breton Highlands. Along the way dad stopped at a tim hortons to get a coffee for himself, iced tea (which was still sold as a fountain drink not a can or bottle) for me, and a few plain timbits for the dog. When we made it to the highlands dad took the plastic cover off my empty iced tea container and put it on a tree and said that if I can shoot that I can shoot a grouse. He handed me my first real gun, a single shot 20 guage. I put as much shot in it that day as I could today, dad was pleased / surprised and off we went. That day I shot my first grouse and dad showed me how to take the meat off of the bird with my knife. He then put it in his pocket and we drove further up the road. Little did we know dad had a hole in his hunting vest pocket and when I got my second grouse we couldn't find it. On the way back we stopped where we had cleaned the first grouse and dad couldn't find it. He felt pretty bad about it and on the way home he bought a new one for me. I was still just excited to have gone hunting at the time and could have cared less about the knife.

4 years later dad was selling the truck so he was cleaning it inside and out. Between the back rest and seat of the old ford truck he found my knife he had lost, and to this day I still have it. From that day on at the age of 8 I was hooked, and for the next 17 seasons my dad was my only hunting partner.

[bigshooter]

My father started teaching my brother and I how to hunt when we were 4 and 5. My greatest memory was when I was about 15, my father and I watched a 6 point bull elk chase out twin 5s and claim a herd of 35 or more cows. My father always talked about duck and pheasant hunting the Cowichan Valley. 7 years ago I started hunting the cowichan flats for ducks I had a chance to take my father and our old springer spanial out for just 1 day. My father and our old dog spent 4 hours shivering but no ducks, but we were able to fulfill one of his dreams of hunting ducks with one of his sons. My father died about 8 years ago now. My son has hunted and fished with me for the last 4 years he's 6 and we just got our first dog, black lab, he's 3 months .

[sawmill]

My old man went moose hunting with some friends from work when I was about 11 years old.I watched them ride the horses out of the yard and head up the hill.I would have killed to go along but Dad said it was a grown up thing.I would have snuck after then but they used my horse for packing.Two days later they came home, horse fell into a little gulley and came unglued,Dad ended up under it,brand new Ruger 7.mm was a pretsle, bent the barrel 90 degree and snapped the stock at the pistol grip Two days later I got a nice bull with my .22.Two in the head.
That will teach you not to leave the kid at home.