Post by tenbears on Dec 9, 2007 21:38:03 GMT -5
Now Mind you I have been hunting since 1951. I have seen many a season come and go. I have personally witnessed the whitetail population grow from a time when a set of deer tracks down by the river made the local news paper. To the point where the big insurance companies are trying to legislate harvest amounts. Because of excessive deer car collisions.
I have hunted through the lean times, and partaken in the hay day.
In my 56 years of pursuing the whitetail I have grounded 5 pope and young deer and 2 Booners. I have had the good fortune to have hunted the conifer forests of the north, and the hill country of west Texas. Still hunted the elusive small beauties of California, and listened to the hounds sing their serenade upon the heals of the Virginia Whitetail. I have stood beside some of the world's greats and sipped Irish coffee with those who hunted to make it through the winter. The thrill of the hunt has resounded within my heart and mind for over half a century. Still I remember each and every hunt with the concise clarity as though it happened only yesterday.
But this years hunt will forever dwarf every hunt I have experienced. For one to understand why. I must first explain a bit about some of my life's circumstances. half a lifetime ago wile serving in Vietnam I was listed as MIA. months turned into years, and my then wife took my Daughter and moved on with there lives.
Fast forward 35 years. My daughter who I had not seen since she was 3 months old locates me and we begin a relationship. where by I meet my two half grown grandsons the oldest at age 13 already has his own opinions on life, and he shares little interest in what interests me. although we have a pleasant relationship. I can in no way impact his life. The younger one is 10, He still sees the world with the wonder of a child. he can laugh with an old grandpa who can act a bit like a kid.
This year he is 13 and with much persuasion from me and his father My daughter allowed him to spend Two weeks with his dad and I at my hunting Cabin in Virginia. For most of those 2 weeks Mikey (my grandson) spend every day with me on stand. I cut some small pines and constructed a blind to conceal his movement, So I would not become a villain telling the lad to be still all day. day in and day out we talked, and hunted, and talked some more. I came to know the lad. Really know him. Not only as my grandson. But as a fine intelligent young man with a great sense of humor. On the Ninth day of hunting a big bear came to within 140 yards of our stand. quietly and perfectly still the boy wait for the bruin to come close enough to take a shot. Mikey was using a 247 Roberts so I required a bear be within 80 yards, and broadside, in order for him to shoot with the light caliber. after over an hour the bear began to move off so I took it with My pistol. A shriek from the boy echoed through the forest as the big bear hit the ground. " That was cool Grandpa" he said with his face all a glow as though it were Christmas morning. Mikey carried all the gear as his dad And I drug the bear out.
The last day of the season rolled around all too quickly. A heavy frost covered the leaves, and crunched beneath our feet as we headed up the ridge to our stand. It was one of those mornings that were just made for deer hunting. Just the ever slightest breeze blew across the ridge. the frost on the frozen leaves made the approach of the smallest animal blatantly obvious. It seemed we had only been on stand a short time. yet the cold was stinging my face. I asked Mikey if he would like a cup of cocoa and just as I began to pour it from the thermos I heard the sound that was barely done ringing in my ears from our walk in. I capped off the thermos. and turned to signal Mikey. He had already detected the noise and was shaking his head to me as I turned. In an instant he was kneeling gun rested on one of the larger branches that made the framework of our makeshift blind. He peered through the pine bows and clicked the safety in the #2 position. as I looked in the direction he was aiming I caught a white plume of steam, And followed it back to the nostrils of a handsome 6 point. In that same instant I heard the crack of the 257 Roberts. and watched as the buck bounder over the side of the ridge into the holler below. My heart sank for as I knew the boy has missed. As I watched the buck clear the crest of the next ridge. Mikey yelled "I got him grandpa I got Him." I stood up and looked around the large oak we called home for the last 14 days to see the carcass of a deer laying 15 feet behind where the 6 point had stood. It turned out we were looking at 2 different deer the 6 point was followed by a small 8 point.
I was barely half way done guiding Mikey through the gutting process when his dad showed up. he had herd the shot and knew it was Mikey. High fives, handshakes, and hugs were exchanged before the entire story was told and the task at hand was completed.
Now I ask you! Who among you can say they had a better season? And to those who may have. My hat's off to you. For you as I have a memory that will forever bond you to those who shared it with you. I know that when I am Gone to sit with the great chief. My great grandsons will share the tale of their grandfathers first deer with His grandfather.
I have hunted through the lean times, and partaken in the hay day.
In my 56 years of pursuing the whitetail I have grounded 5 pope and young deer and 2 Booners. I have had the good fortune to have hunted the conifer forests of the north, and the hill country of west Texas. Still hunted the elusive small beauties of California, and listened to the hounds sing their serenade upon the heals of the Virginia Whitetail. I have stood beside some of the world's greats and sipped Irish coffee with those who hunted to make it through the winter. The thrill of the hunt has resounded within my heart and mind for over half a century. Still I remember each and every hunt with the concise clarity as though it happened only yesterday.
But this years hunt will forever dwarf every hunt I have experienced. For one to understand why. I must first explain a bit about some of my life's circumstances. half a lifetime ago wile serving in Vietnam I was listed as MIA. months turned into years, and my then wife took my Daughter and moved on with there lives.
Fast forward 35 years. My daughter who I had not seen since she was 3 months old locates me and we begin a relationship. where by I meet my two half grown grandsons the oldest at age 13 already has his own opinions on life, and he shares little interest in what interests me. although we have a pleasant relationship. I can in no way impact his life. The younger one is 10, He still sees the world with the wonder of a child. he can laugh with an old grandpa who can act a bit like a kid.
This year he is 13 and with much persuasion from me and his father My daughter allowed him to spend Two weeks with his dad and I at my hunting Cabin in Virginia. For most of those 2 weeks Mikey (my grandson) spend every day with me on stand. I cut some small pines and constructed a blind to conceal his movement, So I would not become a villain telling the lad to be still all day. day in and day out we talked, and hunted, and talked some more. I came to know the lad. Really know him. Not only as my grandson. But as a fine intelligent young man with a great sense of humor. On the Ninth day of hunting a big bear came to within 140 yards of our stand. quietly and perfectly still the boy wait for the bruin to come close enough to take a shot. Mikey was using a 247 Roberts so I required a bear be within 80 yards, and broadside, in order for him to shoot with the light caliber. after over an hour the bear began to move off so I took it with My pistol. A shriek from the boy echoed through the forest as the big bear hit the ground. " That was cool Grandpa" he said with his face all a glow as though it were Christmas morning. Mikey carried all the gear as his dad And I drug the bear out.
The last day of the season rolled around all too quickly. A heavy frost covered the leaves, and crunched beneath our feet as we headed up the ridge to our stand. It was one of those mornings that were just made for deer hunting. Just the ever slightest breeze blew across the ridge. the frost on the frozen leaves made the approach of the smallest animal blatantly obvious. It seemed we had only been on stand a short time. yet the cold was stinging my face. I asked Mikey if he would like a cup of cocoa and just as I began to pour it from the thermos I heard the sound that was barely done ringing in my ears from our walk in. I capped off the thermos. and turned to signal Mikey. He had already detected the noise and was shaking his head to me as I turned. In an instant he was kneeling gun rested on one of the larger branches that made the framework of our makeshift blind. He peered through the pine bows and clicked the safety in the #2 position. as I looked in the direction he was aiming I caught a white plume of steam, And followed it back to the nostrils of a handsome 6 point. In that same instant I heard the crack of the 257 Roberts. and watched as the buck bounder over the side of the ridge into the holler below. My heart sank for as I knew the boy has missed. As I watched the buck clear the crest of the next ridge. Mikey yelled "I got him grandpa I got Him." I stood up and looked around the large oak we called home for the last 14 days to see the carcass of a deer laying 15 feet behind where the 6 point had stood. It turned out we were looking at 2 different deer the 6 point was followed by a small 8 point.
I was barely half way done guiding Mikey through the gutting process when his dad showed up. he had herd the shot and knew it was Mikey. High fives, handshakes, and hugs were exchanged before the entire story was told and the task at hand was completed.
Now I ask you! Who among you can say they had a better season? And to those who may have. My hat's off to you. For you as I have a memory that will forever bond you to those who shared it with you. I know that when I am Gone to sit with the great chief. My great grandsons will share the tale of their grandfathers first deer with His grandfather.
