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Question by woodtick. Uploaded on September 09, 2009
My fondest memory was standing next to me son when he shot his 1st Buck I nice 8 pointer, and the look on his face when we walked up to it after he shot. Its a look I'll never forget!
Woodtick my favorite memory is me and my dad hunting in a hardwood bottom we had nicknamed the Buckhole. I was about 12 years old and had just been given a new marlin 30-30 lever action. As dusk approached it began to rain slightly. I knew this was gonna be a good evening. Just then I looked up and there he was, slowly eating acorns as he approached my stand. With out hesitation I shouldered my new gun and shot the deer. He ran toward my dad who was not far away and crashed near his stand. I couldnt get there fast enough! We dragged the buck up to the road and loaded him up. Boy was I one proud individual. We took him to the taxidermy shop and I quickly had my face covered in warm deer blood. I can still feel it and smell it as I type. That Beautiful little four point is still hanging in my parents house today. He couldnt have weighed more than 110 lbs. He is the most memorable deer I have ever killed. Since then I have shot some really nice bucks but none come close to that one.
I have some good memories but the best are the ones that have not happened yet. I want to be there to see young Wesley R. shoot his first buck (or doe) and hopefully that will be later this month.
First buck- Dad was there- It came with 5 does...When I shot, He though I had missed. I believed him and we sat there for the 2 longest hours of my life. Finally we got up and went to the area where I shot. I found hair! I said and turned around to see the biggest blood trail of my life. The deer ran 30 yards and crashed into the mountain laurel. My dad and I hugged and jumped and yelled in the woods. My first buck was the best buck ever- even if it was only a 4 point.
just being in the woods is some of my fondest moments but if i had to pick one............well i been sitting here for a few minutes and i cant pick just one
Sitting in a wooden rowboat between my dad and uncle while they were duck hunting. I was only about 6 years old.
I remember fishing with my Granddaddy and just after getting our boat in the water seeing a bear climb into the truck and steal our lunch...we got a kick out of that!
Another time fishing with him I hooked a bass that had to be in the 10-12 lb. range. Here I am, an 8yr. old kid with a Zebco 33 that was already ragged out and I have a real trophy on my hands. I fight and fight with this thing and almost get him landed. The hook finally gives on the spinner I'm using and it gets away......right as I have my hands on it.
We get home and I proceed to tell everyone about the one that got away and Granddaddy says, "aw pshaw, you just hooked a big blackfish, that's all". Talk about mad. I stewed over that for a while. Later he told me in confidence that was the biggest bass he had ever seen anyone catch from that spot. He told me he said that (the blackfish comment) because if I was going to start catching bigger fish than him and telling bigger fish stories than him, he was going to have to treat me like a man instead of a boy. I miss him but I have those memories.
During my 4-year tour (1986-90) at Eielson Air Force Base Alaska, I've been asked how many bears have I taken. I had hundreds of chances. I had my crosshairs on many with a round in the chamber of my 338 Win Mag with Nosler 250 grain partitions loaded at 2800 fps and a harvest ticket in my backpack. An easy one shot clean kill everyone. I never pulled the trigger though.
Why you ask?
The beauty and respect of one a Hunter to the other (the bear) perhaps? Most of all the cost of having it mounted I couldn't afford and I knew in the back of my mind that if I did pull the trigger, the hunt was over. I wasn't ready for the hunt to end, never. I wanted more days to hunt, just to be out there. Even if I came home empty handed, it didn't matter. The awesome power, to watch a Grizzly role rocks the size of my ATV like a basketball, hunting for rodents. I never have taken a bear until I moved back to Arkansas.
Most of all, being alone on a mountain ridge, setting on a giant rock overlooking the endless landscape where perhaps no man ever walked.
To watch a snow flurry on a far mountain ridge and feel the Lord setting next to me enjoying what God has made.
I may have come home empty handed,
but my mind is full of awesome memories
it is a experience, I'll never forget!
But the most memorable days ever was with my Father
My fondest fishing memory is when my old man waking me up at 3am telling me we have to get there early, so we can get the big fish. I was four years old,I didn’t really have too much of a clue what to do, but every weekend myself and my great dad always go on an outing to fish in a local streams by my house.We would spend hours of fishing and never caught any as far as my memory goes. I didn't really worry about it so much as long as I could spend the day with my dad.
I would have to say my great memory of the outdoors would be.The time I got to hunt some private land in Colorado for a cow elk.Although I did not make a succesful harvest it was special times.
There are many. Squirrel hunting with my Dad will always be there as will my son's first turkey. My sister's first deer after a long stalk will also come near the top.
My most special was sitting with my wife when she killed her first Buck (8 pt) ever with a real muzzleloader (T/C Seneca). She had been some what of a city girl and was just getting into hunting, that hooked her for life. The buck was bad in rut and was hooking every tree he came by, vocalizing and looking for any opportunity to either fight or breed. She did everything wrong but he was so stoned on testosterone he didn't care. She made a neck shot at 10 steps from a ground blind (palmettos) as the buck looked over his back at her. She almost fainted. That was a long time ago... I digitized the photo of the event and cleaned it up. I keep it on my desk and to this day folks still ask who that cute girl is with the big grin and the buck. I tell every one that's my baby! After all she is younger than me...
Like Bee said "There are many." but my absolute favorite was my first mule deer. It was last year on November 10th I got way up in the back-country early in the morning. It was raining when I started and turned kinda miserable quick, as I went up in elevation it turned into blinding snow. I sat and waited out the storm, in the half hour storm it laid 4 inches of new snow. I kept trudging on and about 100 yds from where I waited I found some mulie tracks in the snow that was brand new so I knew I was close. I crested this ridge and there with three does was a big 5x5 mule deer bedded down. So i pulled up my trusty model 70 .270 win. and as the buck stood up I knocked him right back down. Now I have him on my wall so I can always remember that hunt...
One of my best has to be the annual Thanksgiving pheasant hunt. It is the only time of the year that all the uncles, grandfather, dad, brother, and cousins can get together for a hunt. We usually do well harvesting between 8-12 roosters, but the real fun is after the hunt. When the birds and guns are cleaned and put away, we will enjoy a few cold ones and some homemade wine while talking over the day's events and past times. I always cherish that day of the year and am very thankful of the opportunity for us all to share the field.
It is a tossup between taking my first deer(s) with my dad, accidental 2 with one shot, burned dads tag for him along with my own....and taking a black bear with my son William when he was 2 1/2, both were great occasions in the great outdoors....
My fondest memory is taking my 12 year old nephew and his dad out salmon fishing on Lake Michigan. They had never seen a salmon and were very anxious to catch one. As luck would have it, bad weather hit for three days and we just couldn't get out. They were reaching the end of their vacation so we decided to drive 200 miles to the opposite side of the lake so we could get an off shore wind and at least try the shore line. We had just an hour or so to fish before the day ended but as luck would have it, we found fish. Just as my anxious nephew hit a nice King Salmon, the wind changed. We had to reel up and head for shore before the waves capsized us. Knowing that we could not last at sea, he locked his drag full ON and the fish tried to pull him out of the boat. His dad grabbed his belt as he was heading out the aft end of the boat. I could not believe that his dad hung on to him and kept him in the boat as he cranked in that fish. The 40-50 mph wind and choppy 10-12 foot waves were getting SERIOUS and I told him we would have to cut the line in 30 seconds. He cranked with his whole heart and brought the fish alongside. I made a lucky stab with the net and swung him aboard. Even though the boat was rocking too much to stand, he grabbed that fish out of the net and hugged it, presenting us with the biggest and most sincere smile I have ever seen. Seeing him get that fish under those conditions was one of my best experiences. It was one of his too and before much time passed, he decided to become a proffessional fisherman. He is still doing that today and I think that 25-30 pound salmon is still the biggest fish he has ever landed.
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