The things you're glad you didn't miss, (story time)

[jtoews80]

You ever think back to something and not realize the significance of it until much later?

LOL, 1999 I was 19 and went on a harvest run down to OK and Texas from my native Manitoba.
When I returned it was early November and I bought a new 270 win Rugger 77. The rifle shot well and I was the king of the world. Bout half way thro the season after I'd tagged out ( I can Co-sign his tag in MB) my dad asked me if I'd take an elderly friend of his out hunting for the last three days of season. I did not know this was due to him forgetting how to return home from woods a few days earlier.

So away we went, Me a 19 year old kid in a 89 GM 3/4 and a 70 something old sam with a 300 win and a half box of shells.
As it would happen we walked and drove and walked and drove and seen a few deer 500 yds away. As we were hunting it became apparent to me why Sam's wife had asked my dad to find somebody to take sam hunting... I heard the same half dozen hunting stories about a dozen times. Usually every time we'd drive by a side road where he'd shot a big buck or something. And they were good stories, and I really tried to act like it was the first time I'd heard them.
As the first two days progressed I realized that I'd have to watch his gun handling too. I noticed him walking behind me with his gun loaded and safety off at one point and I think he was down to about 4 rounds by the end of day 2. So, I finally ended up shooting a deer for him on the third day. By this point I knew it was time for the season to be finished for sam and I.
If I remember correctly it was a 2X1 small buck and I had to shoot it off somebodies land that I had not asked for permission from. and When I went to tag it for Sam ( We had not bothered to both sign his tag yet) It was for the Shopgun Muzzleloader season, not rifle). Now I know that this was not right, but I didn't want him walking near me with his 300 win. ANd I also knew that he was tired and the season was done regardles. The old man had been quite a hunter in his day, I remember as a young boy visiting and seeing the mounted heads of Elk, Moose and Caribou on his walls. Loved to hunt and loved the wild game in the freezer. He insisted on cleaning that little buck and absolutely mangled that deer. He cut the urinary line and nicked the guts. But after all that tossed it into his trunk and headed home. I later learned that they had really enjoyed the meat and that Sam never returned to the field passing the next spring.
Funny thing was it was as if he had to do it one more time before he was done, It was a trying 3 days and I probably shouldn't have done what I did, but I think it was worth it and I was glad I went, hopefully I made that old man rest easier as he went.....

BTW, I take alot of people out hunting, it just usually needs a slight excuse.


JT.

 

[DrMike]

I'm certain there are a multitude of stories out there. Each is interesting and reveals something about the sport. I've taken a number of people hunting, and usually I enjoy it immensely. There are a few, however, that likely won't accompany me afield again in the near future.

Some years ago I took a fellow hunting. He had moved to BC from Saskatchewan and wanted to hunt moose as he had never taken one. I and a hunting partner invited him to join us that fall, and so we travelled upcountry for a combination moose/mule deer hunt.

I had located two good bucks on an island in a river. We had watched them bed down. I stationed the men at the head of the island, donned my waders and waded to the foot of the island before beginning to push the deer off the island. About half way up the island, I glanced to the north shore, and there was our new friend marching up and down the bank. Needless to say, the deer did slip away and crossed on his side and he never saw them. Strike one.

That evening, we had located a lick that showed great sign. Moose were coming in on a regular basis. Again, I situated him at a great spot that afforded him a good view of the lick and I positioned myself about fifty yards to his left and somewhat back in the bush so I could observe anything moving out of the bush and to the lick.

I heard something behind me. Carefully turning my head, I saw the feet of a moose about 10 yards behind me. He was standing behind some large brush, scanning the lick before committing himself. Something, however, startled him and he turned and melted into the trees. Looking back at the lick, I saw my new hunting partner popping up, shading his eyes and looking for all the world like a sea captain scanning the horizon. I called to him and asked what he was doing. "Looking for moose," he replied. Strike two.

After two more days without success and similar gaffes, I realised that he would not take suggestions and the hunt was going to be a tough one, at best. Finally, deciding to return home we started the long drive home, stopping in the Williams Lake area for a final hunt.

We stopped in a great spot and there was plenty of moose sign. We located an area that had a series of ponds and a number of game trails with fresh sign. Again, I situated this fellow where he could watch the biggest game trail and I settled down near one of the ponds and my regular hunting partner walked down another trail and away from us.

I heard game coming up the trail only to hear it suddenly crash through the bush. It didn't make sense, until I cautiously peered out on the trail and saw my erstwhile hunting partner patrolling the trail, marching up and down, looking for all the world like Elmer Fudd on the trail of a "wabbit."

I simply said, "That's enough. Strike three." He didn't get the meaning, but I rounded up my other hunting partner and explained that we would need to conclude this particular trip posthaste.

The new hunting partner was distraught and broke out into complaints that this type of hunting wasn't like what he was used to in Saskatchewan. There, he'd get up, eat a hearty breakfast, drive out with a group of fellows, do a drive on a farm and come home by noon. With that, I exploded, "Look around! Does this look like Saskatchewan? You have to adapt to the country."

Never went hunting with him again, though he asked me each fall if I was going. Some guys just make you realise that not everyone is ready.

We have taken a few of the South African doctors from our area hunting here in Dawson Creek, and they are mostly great fellows who enjoy the sport and are willing to adapt what they already know from Africa to the Peace Region.

 

[honkeetonkin]

jtoews80, my younger brother and I have similer stories like yours, one gent was 84 and the other was 76, only they killed their bucks. DrMike the only thing you got out of that was a good story. Makes you wonder if you new buddy is an anti-hunter

 

[DrMike]

Nah, he wasn't an anti-hunter. He was just untaught and incompetent and unwilling to take instruction. Some people just won't listen.

 

[JDMAG]

A few years ago I invited a couple of old gentlemen from my church to go bird huntin with me on a preserve not far from where we live. They accepted and the date was set. on the morning of the hunt it was slightly overcast, and cool but not cold, and I had some reservations about the trip due to the weather forecast.There was no deterring these guys.They hadn't been hunting in ages, and I was there hero. one was a former collage professor, and the other was a former business owner here in town. It was slightly windy but my GSP, Ginny, had little trouble finding the planted birds. and holding them until one of the old gents could get into position to flush the bird. The owner of the preserve realized what I was doing and only charged us $3.00 per bird since I was using my dog and doing all the work. These guys got a little carried away, and bought about 30 birds and wouldn't let me pay for any of them.
Well as the day grew longer the weather got worse. I'm talking dark clouds and tornado warnings. These guys wouldn't quit. It got hot, I was soaking wet with sweat, and Ginny was working her but off in the gale force winds.But out of the 30 birds planted, she managed to point and we came home with 35 birds! I only shot about 3 of these and Mine was follow up shots from where the flusher missed. One of these guys had a heart condition and the other had just had knee replacement surgery the year before.
To this day, they say that was the best hunting trip of there life. As we were leaving, Tornadoes were touching down all around the area, but we were never harmed. ( this may have something to do with the prayer offered up by the professor before the hunt)
The professor has since moved away to be closer to his heart doctor, but Tom still goes to church where I do, and his wife still gives me a hug every time she sees me. And when the Prof is in town, he and his wife stop by for a visit.
That was the toughest and scariest bird hunt I have ever had the privilege to be a part of and would do it all again. my old friends however say they aren't up to it any more. There children even sent me thank you cards!

 

[DrMike]

What a neat story. I hope when I grow so feeble that I am unable to regularly get out that some younger fellow will take me out for one last hunt. I have a dear friend, a native man, who is younger than me. He has given me many hours afield since I moved to northern BC. He is a real blessing and has become like a son. The only thing is, he claims that he will help my wife sell off my rifles when I fail to come home from the bush one day. Of course, they will have devalued seriously and he will offer her a "fair" price, just to take them off her hands.

 

[JDMAG]

If he starts looking at one of them too hard, You might want to just give it to him or stop going too deep into the bush with him! :lol:

 

[DrMike]

He claims to have dibs on a 358 BLR and on my 325 WSM because of the wood. He is a Remington fan, and I have a safe full of Winchesters, which he calls jack handles. I tell him that such fine hardware won't work for him.

 

[jtoews80]

DrMike, the moose hunting story is comical, but I imagine that if you had a tag left at the end of season it wouldn't be nearly as funny.

Having good friends to hunt with is a bonus. It's safer when going deep into the wild and it helps get the game out after the fact. I'm really fortunate to have 3 brothers, we all hunt. My dad is pretty hard to get out deer hunting, I don't think he's interested anymore. If it's moose or elk hunting tho look out, he'll have his gear out three days before season and be up @ 4 on opening day

JDMAG, the old boys shotting birds is great too. Staying out in that storm must've been a bit intense.

JT.

 

[DrMike]

Actually, at the end of that season I had mule deer. There was only one moose hunt that season, and that was it. He was a good neighbour, but I never took him moose hunting again. I did try to help him out at the range, but even there he was unwilling to receive instruction.

He had an old Lee Enfield .303 on which he had mounted the cheapest Tasco he could buy. At the range, he was getting patterns that ranged from 8" to 12" plus. He said that the scope was no good. I asked if I might shoot the rifle, to which request he readily agreed, and printed a 1.5" group. I explained that he had a terrible flinch, but he wouldn't believe it. He shot his way through a box of ammunition, and the groups grew worse as the day progressed. He finally said he was taking that no account scope back and getting his money back. I just shook my head and chalked up another experience.

 

[cloverleaf]

jt- I just wrote a long response to your story....and then deleted it. you done good, nuff said. CL

 

[Guy Miner]

Good stories guys. Thanks for sharing!

 

[DrMike]

I remember a long-time hunting buddy that almost gave up hunting over a spruce hen. They are not the most challenging game, but some people still have difficulty getting a limit. This fellow, we'll call him Lars, was moose hunting when he came upon a grouse watching him from the side of the trail. The bird was every bit of ten feet away, and he had nothing but an old Lee Enfield .303. Nevertheless, he determined that he would bring a grouse back to camp that evening, thinking that if he only hit the head he would not damage the breast.

He carefully aimed, and the bird co-operated by cocking its head and looking at him. At last he pulled the trigger. When the rifle came back from battery, the bird looked at him quizzically and bobbed its head a time or two. Lars blinked and quickly chambered another round and again took aim. When he pulled the trigger again, the bird only looked somewhat amused.

Since the Lee Enfield clip held five rounds, Lars repeated this exercise five times, each time with the result that the bird grew only more amused. Finally, in frustration, he drew his hunting knife and threw it at the bird only to miss by a wide margin. With this, the bird at last turned and walked into the tall grass.

Lars only comment on the entire episode was, "Well, at least that bird couldn't hear anything. He's deaf for certain."

I tell you, a thing like that can really shake one's confidence. Now that I think back on it, I don't recall Lars ever shooting anything. But then, his wife had already told him she didn't want any wild game in her house.

 

[jtoews80]

My dad calls Spruce Hens "survival animals", ie they are there for your survival...... :grin: That is halirious. I tried that trick on a Ruffed Grouse with a 50 cal MZ about 10 years ago, made a cloud of feathers with a 240 HRNDY XTP sabot.......

JT.