Post by bigjohn on Sept 2, 2010 11:56:16 GMT -5
I share this writing with you all. I wrote it six years ago and still remember the day like it was yesterday. My Son is now 8, and my daughter is less than a month away from sharing a moment with me that I've dreamed of for the past 10 years. I hope you enjoy the reading. Sorry if it's long, but it's my memories!
I started deer hunting when I was Nine years old, with my Dad. When I was 13 My Dad told me if I saved all my money all year he would help me buy a gun. I saved and saved, and the next deer season came. Dad asked me how much I had. I pulled out a Jar from beneath my bed. I told Dad it was all I had. He counted it, and I asked if it was enough. He said, "YUP just enough." A few days later I had a .243.
The first year I hunted I shot a spike. Like most Yoopers I guess. I remember the addrenalin pumping when I pulled the trigger. I ran all the way home. Dad was hunting another spot. As I ran across the hay field, he was driving up the old road. He was honking his horn, I was jumping up and down. It was a moment and feeling that I will always remember.
Years have now passed us buy. I am 30, Dad 54. I have moved away. I've lived in the downstate area for 8 years now. I don't get to spend the time with him that I would like to.
I go home and hunt every thanksgiving. It's a time for my father and me to hunt together. My father has not shot a buck with me for 10 years. He has got a few, but never when i'm home.
This year it all changed. It was the last Saturday of the gun season. I headed out to my deer blind. The rain was coming down hard. At five O'Clock I heard my Dad shoot. Or at least I thougth I had. I sat until 6 and then headed out to go home.
Dad met me in the field and said he had shot the biggest buck of his life. But that he had gut shot it and it had run away. He tracked it, jumped it and backed out. We agreed to wait until morning.
We went out to dinner and Dad was just sick about messing up the shot. I reassured him we would find it in the morning. Yet we couldn't take it so we decided to go home and look that night. We gathered up our lights and out we went. In a downpour for three hours, crawling on my hands and knees tracking a deer by only the contents in his stomach. When my light died, and the Coyotes were closing in I called it a night and we went home broken hearted.
We were tired and it was late so we both crawled in bed. It was a few minutes and Dad was snooring. Me...not a wink. I chased that deer all night in my head. Where had it gone?
We awoke at 8am and headed out to look. After an hour of searching the swamp I decided to go back to where I last had guts. On the way back I crossed under one of my bow stands. I just happened to look on the backside of a tree and I saw one white hair. Got down on my hands and knees and found a little bit of guts. I hollared to my Dad and the search was back on.
He went one way, and me another. I had a feeling where it was headed. Before I got there I happended to look left into the cedars and there he lay. I started to hollar, and Dad came a running. I ran into the bush and pulled him out to the trail before Dad arrived.
Dad gave me a great big hug, and we stood over the whitetail buck that we had been chasing together for 21 years. After a while of laughing and looking Dad made me gut it. (I had less clothes on )
After that Dad went back to pick up all my hats, gloves, coats and other stuff I had left scattered through the woods everytime I found guts. I went and washed my hands. I then went back and stood over this fine buck.
It was at that point I had realized what a true honor the good Lord had just given us. I bowed to my knee and thanked the Lord for providing us the privledge of this one hunt together.
I don't know how many more hunts I have to go on with my Dad. Someday this buck will hang in my basement, Dad will be gone, and I will sit back and remember all the times I shared with him. And I will cry, and thank the Lord again for this buck.
People ask me why I hunt, I started to forget why I hunt. I started to think I had to succeed at harvesting a huge buck. It took this experience to remember WHY I hunt. I hunt for moments, moments no one can ever take away from me. In the end it's those memories that will get you through the rough times.
I believe in QDM, yet it took me a lot of years to get to this point. I struggle with taking moments like these away from Fathers and Sons. I sometimes feel like maybe i'm selfish to want huge bucks when others have none. In my years of hunting I have taken a buck every year since 1990. Are they all trophies, yes they are all trophies to me. Everyone is on a plaque in my basement. It took a big 9 point for us to have this moment, but would some fathers and sons have it over a 4 point. I believe they would, and do every year.
I have a two year old son. I hope to pass on the values that my father has tought me someday. I hope someday I will be able to share a hunt like this with him. I hope he kills a spike his first buck, it will be "OUR TROPHY!"
I started deer hunting when I was Nine years old, with my Dad. When I was 13 My Dad told me if I saved all my money all year he would help me buy a gun. I saved and saved, and the next deer season came. Dad asked me how much I had. I pulled out a Jar from beneath my bed. I told Dad it was all I had. He counted it, and I asked if it was enough. He said, "YUP just enough." A few days later I had a .243.
The first year I hunted I shot a spike. Like most Yoopers I guess. I remember the addrenalin pumping when I pulled the trigger. I ran all the way home. Dad was hunting another spot. As I ran across the hay field, he was driving up the old road. He was honking his horn, I was jumping up and down. It was a moment and feeling that I will always remember.
Years have now passed us buy. I am 30, Dad 54. I have moved away. I've lived in the downstate area for 8 years now. I don't get to spend the time with him that I would like to.
I go home and hunt every thanksgiving. It's a time for my father and me to hunt together. My father has not shot a buck with me for 10 years. He has got a few, but never when i'm home.
This year it all changed. It was the last Saturday of the gun season. I headed out to my deer blind. The rain was coming down hard. At five O'Clock I heard my Dad shoot. Or at least I thougth I had. I sat until 6 and then headed out to go home.
Dad met me in the field and said he had shot the biggest buck of his life. But that he had gut shot it and it had run away. He tracked it, jumped it and backed out. We agreed to wait until morning.
We went out to dinner and Dad was just sick about messing up the shot. I reassured him we would find it in the morning. Yet we couldn't take it so we decided to go home and look that night. We gathered up our lights and out we went. In a downpour for three hours, crawling on my hands and knees tracking a deer by only the contents in his stomach. When my light died, and the Coyotes were closing in I called it a night and we went home broken hearted.
We were tired and it was late so we both crawled in bed. It was a few minutes and Dad was snooring. Me...not a wink. I chased that deer all night in my head. Where had it gone?
We awoke at 8am and headed out to look. After an hour of searching the swamp I decided to go back to where I last had guts. On the way back I crossed under one of my bow stands. I just happened to look on the backside of a tree and I saw one white hair. Got down on my hands and knees and found a little bit of guts. I hollared to my Dad and the search was back on.
He went one way, and me another. I had a feeling where it was headed. Before I got there I happended to look left into the cedars and there he lay. I started to hollar, and Dad came a running. I ran into the bush and pulled him out to the trail before Dad arrived.
Dad gave me a great big hug, and we stood over the whitetail buck that we had been chasing together for 21 years. After a while of laughing and looking Dad made me gut it. (I had less clothes on )
After that Dad went back to pick up all my hats, gloves, coats and other stuff I had left scattered through the woods everytime I found guts. I went and washed my hands. I then went back and stood over this fine buck.
It was at that point I had realized what a true honor the good Lord had just given us. I bowed to my knee and thanked the Lord for providing us the privledge of this one hunt together.
I don't know how many more hunts I have to go on with my Dad. Someday this buck will hang in my basement, Dad will be gone, and I will sit back and remember all the times I shared with him. And I will cry, and thank the Lord again for this buck.
People ask me why I hunt, I started to forget why I hunt. I started to think I had to succeed at harvesting a huge buck. It took this experience to remember WHY I hunt. I hunt for moments, moments no one can ever take away from me. In the end it's those memories that will get you through the rough times.
I believe in QDM, yet it took me a lot of years to get to this point. I struggle with taking moments like these away from Fathers and Sons. I sometimes feel like maybe i'm selfish to want huge bucks when others have none. In my years of hunting I have taken a buck every year since 1990. Are they all trophies, yes they are all trophies to me. Everyone is on a plaque in my basement. It took a big 9 point for us to have this moment, but would some fathers and sons have it over a 4 point. I believe they would, and do every year.
I have a two year old son. I hope to pass on the values that my father has tought me someday. I hope someday I will be able to share a hunt like this with him. I hope he kills a spike his first buck, it will be "OUR TROPHY!"
