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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Hello,
I'm looking for hunting stories of your hunts, and pictures, etc.
I have only bowhunted on my property here in Iowa.
All of your camp stories and hunting hardships and successes & pictures will be new territory to me, and will in some ways reconnect me with hunts & fishing with my DAD many years ago.
Thanks in advance.
 

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My first hunt was in Kentucky in the area of Somerset when I was 9 years old.

My Dad took me on a Squirrel hunt early one morning in the fall of the year and my shotgun was a Stevens 20 gauge with the side release. We walked about a half mile on an old logging road when I saw a grey squirrel go up a tree. He told me to get it so I followed the squirrel with the bead and pulled the trigger.

That day lead to a lifelong love affair with the woods and hunting. My dads is 80 years old and lives next door. He is not able to hunt anymore.

He gave me a 16 gauge model 37 Winchester on my 10th birthday that my daughter now has in her possession and has been passed on to her for her children.

This is my youngest daughter who now has my first gun for her son or daughter.
 

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Discussion Starter · #3 ·
I was looking at Model 37's at the gun show in Des Moines the other day.
 

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I gave my Mother one in 410,,see if you can find one of them Steve?
 

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Neither my father nor grandfather hunted but Granddaddy always kept me supplied with a good BB gun to keep the birds out of his strawberries. It was fine one too...a Red Ryder...but danged if you didn't have to get close with it. My summer days were spent stalking birds in the garden, in the strawberry patch, and of course to keep the mockingbirds off of Grandmomma's clothesline full of white bedsheets.

But I had stepbrothers....and their grandfather was a serious hunter....and he and GranKatie treated me no differently than my stepbrothers and sister. Granddaddy Herb had a pack of bluetick hounds second to none on the Carolina coast and while Daddy didn't hunt he did love to listen to a good pack of dogs blistering through the woods, squallin' for every breath. At least a few Saturday mornings during the season we would go to GranKatie's and Granddaddy Herb's long before daylight and open the door to a house-full of smells and a table loaded down with good ole fashion Southern breakfast goods...sausage, country ham and redeye gravy, homemade biscuits the size of a cat's head, grits and eggs....and it would be surrounded by hunters.

Those hunters, blazing down dirt roads chasing dogs and gathered around any one of a dozen tailgates, turned a wide-eyed 6 year old boy into a hunter and I've been hard at it ever since....
 

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Some photos of the last moose I shot

1) Where I shot it..

2) dragging it back to camp, tied to the side of an 18 foot freighter canoe

3) Hanging. Me on left. I'm 6 feet+
 

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Discussion Starter · #9 ·
Thanks guys, good stories & pics.
I am enjoying this a lot.
 

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Matt,

Getting it into the water was the hard part.

Took me and my buddy 45 minutes to roll it ONCE into the water.

Soaked..

Three hour ride back to camp, soaked, in 45 degree weather.

At camp, there is a beautiful beach, with a boat launch.

Backed a boat trailer in, winched the moose onto it and, as they say; "Bob's your uncle" LOL

 

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Anybody else ever kill a hat?

While up north, moose hunting, decided to take a little break and go shoot me some grouse.

Grouse up there are very stupid and will sit there, allowing you to pop them.

Walking down a lumber road, got a little warm from the bright sun, stopped, took off my hat so I could take off my pullover sweater.

A piece up the trail, realized I had left my hat on the trail.

No biggy, would get it on the way back.

Quite some time later, on my way back, I spot a grouse on the trail.

Shoot it, walked up, only to realize I had not shot a grouse, I had shot my own hat!!

Went back to camp, laughing my butt off and told the guys what had happened.

One said; “Webster, if I did something that dumb, I wouldn't tell anybody". LOL
 

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My first bow kill, my only hunting pic. About 1998, Paynes Find Western Australia, semi desert country.
 

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Discussion Starter · #16 ·
My Dad was 9 in 1930 when his Dad left for good....Dad the youngest, no brothers, had to shoulder the family's food gathering, he did it with a .22 & .410. Learned the value of ammo, made each shot count, that sort of thing, and trapped, sold furs. Dad had me carrying empty .410s and .22s to the duck blind with him when I was 4, and I started hunting with ammo when I was 7, with Dad. Ducks, geese, pheasants, quail, rabbits, squirrels. Odd, looking back now with the proliferation of deer, but there weren't any when I was little, I was a teen when I saw my first deer, I think. Dad never hunted deer, as he didn't grow up hunting them. I started hunting deer with friends when I was about 22. I was probably 30 & hunting squirrels with Dad, and we were on top of a long hill, creek at bottom, trail going from us to creek, and we saw deer at the creek. 10am, I told Dad they would come up the trail to us. We got on opposite sides of the trail, 20 yards off of it, hid in the brush. Waited while the deer began coming up the hill to us. they stalled, browsing acorns, and I got out my white snot rag and waved it a coupled of times, pulled it back. Repeated. They got all curious - bobbing heads - and started coming in to us. I gently spooked them, they ran off 20-30, looked back, and we stayed down. I raised up the white flag & flicked it a few times, & lip squeaked, and they started coming back in to me. We did this several times. I finally stood up and walked over to Dad, and they left. Dad thought that was the coolest thing, being that close to the deer.
 

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Hey Foghorn,,,would a respectful Chicken use these bad boys to pig hunt?

 

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Discussion Starter · #18 ·
haha NOT SHY are they?
 

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Credit Kingwouldbe and the leatherwall. Steve, remember these old broadheads? Kind of impress's me that the blades did not break.
 
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