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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
I never had a chance. i was born to a family of hunters. there were many hunters and fisherman on both sides of the family.
my first memories are of hunting stories. men and women both told them as some of the women also hunted. in fact, most of the people i came into contact with for most of my childhood were hunters of one form or another.

it seems that the area i grew up in had very little to do along the lines of social activities and most of the people found ways to entertain themselves.

so i grew up a hunter. it has had great effects upon my life. i made sure my future wife ,from a non hunting family, knew what she was in for by taking her along on ocassion. we came to some unspoken agreement. i am a hunter. i will hunt. there are times when it will be unhandy for her...and i make it up to her for being considerate. we have peacefully co-existed for 30 years.

my son, never had a chance. he was born to hunters. i carried him to the woods when he was too young to walk the distance himself. he was never a bother or nuisanse. i was always tickled to have him along. my actions were mostly selfish. my intentions were to spend as much time with him as possible.

as it was for me, it was for him. he hung around with me and my hunting partners. they treated him gently and with respect just as my fathers friends so treated me. the kind of nurturing of young boys into manhood that seems to be missing today. the feeling of belonging and contributing to a peer group of men.

the son would always be there as the hunting tales were told and hashed out. it was easy to detect the hungery look for the adventures that were sure to come. once he remarked that he would be glad when he got old enough to go hunting. suspecting the answer, somebody asked why. the unexpected answer was, so i will have lots of deer hunting stories to tell.

as there was little opportunity for gun hunting small game where we live, the boy was destined to become mostly a bowhunter. as he grew, i bought him bows and tiny arrows that fit his small size. we shot a lot of the local archery clubs and when he was able i took him along deer hunting. we sat on large permanent stands that we built for just such purpose.

the target was 40lb. of draw weight. our state requires the bow to pull that weight to be legal. the boy had to wait until his body would reach the proper proportions to master that fete. that took until the age of 14.

everybody has a fear of something. my son had a fear of heights. he didn't know it until it came time to climb up on that ladder stand by himself. we worked a lot on it that first year he was eligible to hunt with the bow. finally he was able to get comfortable at 8 feet. determination was the only reason he could do it at all.

the first year, the young man never got a shot at a deer. he saw plenty of them but had a lot to learn about when to move when they got close and how to always be ready as deer almost always show up when you are never ready. he also learned that at 8 foot off the ground a deer can still spot a bowhunter pretty easily if he has to move at all. it was by his request that we moved the ladder stand up to 14 foot and he climbed right up like he had never given it another thought.

that first year was a trial and error period. i put him in the best places i could find so he could get as much experience as possible in contact with the whitetails. at season end, all he had was the experience and no shots fired.

the next fall, i was suprised to see that we had to go through the same rodeo with that treestand heighth. i suggested he climb the stand with the safety belt on and then hang off the side. that seemed to help. when he found he could not fall out with the safety strap, he mostly got over the fear.

we drove into wisconsin on opening day. it was a 5 hour trip and me the only driver. i had worked all night and never got to go to bed. he hunted a spot that morning while i slept in a brushpile a couple of hundred yards away.

we moved late in the late afternoon and i climbed a tree only 150 yards from him.
i didn't have much hope of me seeing deer. the sign around me wasn't good. i had put him in the best place i could find.

i just got settled on the stand when i heard a youngish voice giving the barred owl call we used to locate one another. i had not left him long before so immediately figured something was wrong. all kinds of horrible things came to mind. right back down the tree i went and hurried over to where i had left him.

he was still on the stand when he came into view. i was relieved to see he hadn't fallen out! he was doing a war dance of sorts. as i got up close enough, he started yelling, i got one !, i got one!

i could hardly believe he had even seen one already let alone shot at one. i grilled him on what had happened.

a doe had come along and walked right past him. he had waited until it was quartering away and had shot at about 15 yards. the deer had run straight in the direction i had been sitting. i had heard no commotion and certainly had seen no deer come past me. i also had not seen or jumped any deer coming to find him. i suppose i was a little skeptical about his hitting the deer.

the boy told me he was certain he had hit it. ok. we sat there waiting for a little while. i wanted to give us the best chance of finding the deer. in a little bit, a storm blew in and large raindrops started falling. i was afraid to track the deer in the rain. if it was not badly hit it would get up and run leaving no way for us to find it as the rain would wash away the trail. we had to wait until the next morning. that was not good news to my son but he had to learn to do things the right way.

we went back to camp and put in 1 very long night. the boy tossed and turned and worried and talked most of the night. finally dawn came and we went to look for his deer. we walked about 80 yards from his treestand and found it right in the direction he saw it last running. the arrow had entered right behind the ribs and went right into the heart lung area killing it almost immediately. i was impressed. i knew he could shoot good enough but it usually takes a few years to be able to keep ones cool enough to notice or remember shot placement.

the boy had a deer story to tell. his own. he had shot and taken the only deer he had ever shot at and with an arrow to boot. i wondered at the time how many grown men had earned the right to make that claim. he had earned the title of hunter.

my son now has a 14 month old daughter. she doesn't have a chance.
 

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Great Story Squacks. like the rest... I know Grandpa will have hand it teaching her skills also..


Nope she don't stand a chance,, but she will be feared by the Animal population as her Grandpa is.. :lol:

Sure would be great if you can get your son to join us sometime at Shawnee..
 

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Discussion Starter · #3 ·
g/j:

there is a very good chance of it next year. he has just moved back up here and was working a new job so it was not possible this time. i believe i can get him there in the near future.

my son and i have camped in shawnee quite a few times before. we hunted squirrels, deer and turkeys at differant times. once, my grandma, father, mother my son and i were all there together hunting squirrels. 4 generations of squirrel hunters! that campground we stay in has many great memories for me.

luck!
 

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I'll say, that is so wonderful.... I am sure he is chip off the ole block like Sarge's boys are.. ..
 

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Now THAT was a beautiful and well written story. Thanks for posting it and for passing along the tradition.

Regards,
Chef
 

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Squacks-

I hope you are saving your stories, and to more than just disk.....reams of paper don't cost a whole lot....

I too never had a chance.... My Grandfather was a birdman extraordinnaire- be it grouse, ducks or geese....

My Daddy was a WW II vet. He was involved in the Dresden Bombing raids, and what they called out of sorts at that time.... his post war battles were mostly with the bottle and himself, but coming from a long line of hunters, he DID prevail!

He was still getting his life back together in 1963- a single father with 3 kids- when he entered an ice fishing derby... it was bitterly cold, and he was the only one to catch a fish- a 24 oz perch ( blue gills to you southerners ) He won all 3 prizes- memory fades, but first prize was a Mossberg target rifle.... Looking back, I can clearly see the divine hand of intervention there. I couldn't take my eyes off that gleaming Walnut and blued steel. And so the circle came around fully from Grandfather, to Father, and to Son...

....Much time has passed, both Dad and Grampa long gone now. I have a grandson I taught to shoot with an old single shot .22- not all that far removed from Dad's old Mossy, now that I think about it.... My reasons were much the same as yours Squacks, but I truly beleive there is something else at work here... There is a God of Hunters- plenty of evidence in that, especially in the experiences shared by Man, Boy, and Creation...

I'll end it off here with this thought...

My grandson is a much better shot with irons than I ever was- likely passed down from his great grampa.... After a few generations, hunting does truly get into the blood- the boy has skills that needed no teaching or coaching from me- I truly beleive some of these hunting skills to be inherited....

Regards,

Doc Sharptail
 

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Another fine one Squacks, this is like reading back issues of PA Game Commision magazines - you know, when they knew how to write and keep your attention at the same time?

GJ, I am sure you know what I mean.
 

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Discussion Starter · #8 ·
btt
 

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Squacks.. haven't read that one in a while.. Still awesome story.. Sure wish I could have made it this year ..
 

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Discussion Starter · #10 ·
g/j:

hope to see you there next year. what's this site adm. stuff?! you supposed to be out huntin and not adminin! lol!

guess now i have to watch my p's and q's!


luck!~
 

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LOL.. someone has to keep spammers out..
 
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