Favorite hunting memory...(inspired by europe)

SFC B

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As I alluded to in my looooong post :) in Europe's thread, without doubt I have 2 equally great memories that I hold highest.

First, was being with my son when he took his first deer. When we were stationed at Bragg I got him out during youth season and he saw a doe but had no chance to connect. A couple of years went by and while home in IN on leave from the Army a land owner/friend let me take him out with no restriction on what could be taken. We set up in a depression in the middle of a small cut corn field on Thanksgiving night. The little spot gave us concealment with tall weeds and grasses while allowing us to be within 150 yards of 2 nice long field edges. We sat on Home Depot buckets and with only a little bit of shooting light left a 2.5 yo buck poked out about 350 yds away at the edge of the property. He was moving perfectly toward us along the edge. The boy had to steady himself from buck fever and his shot was high but dropped the buck. We had to hustle to dress the deer and get it to the processor but I will always remember how his face first showed some anguish and thoughtfulness of the moment and then changed into a look of accomplishment.

Next was Hunting Princess taking her hog :) After a deployment a friend from TX hooked me up with a rancher in south of San Antonio who offered up a stay for the family and a management deer up to 130 if I could get there. Mama, I, the boy and HP loaded up the truck and headed southeast. The rancher offered up hunting for the boy as well. First thing the first morning I pulled the trigger on a mature buck right at the edge of what I could shoot (high 120s). Later in the morning the boy got a really OLD 3x. We were both well chuffed. That afternoon after taking care of the deer we went back out and took a couple of cull bucks that the management plan said had to go. The following morning we took some time to shoot at the range they had on the property. We had brought HPs .22 cricket that she had gotten only a month before and she had pride of place. After filling up the center ring from 15 yds the ranch hand asked if she wanted to shoot his AR (he urged her on saying his 6 yo boy had taken deer with it knowing that she was 8 yo and competitive ;) ) At 50 yds she was within an inch so we moved to 100 yds and she was still within 2in. The ranch hand said with shooting like that she was welcome to take a chance at a pig if we could find some. That afternoon we headed to a blind at the intersection of a main and secondary senderos. When the feeder went off deer started to drift in for chow. After about an hour a group of pigs entered the mix. HP couldn't get her chair high enough to get a sight picture out the blind. She hopped up on my lap and we got her in position with the rifle resting on the window ledge of the blind and the waiting game began. The pigs and deer continually milled about never giving a clear shot. HP started to get a little frustrated and I had to calm her. With only a few minutes of light left only a sow and doe remained in the picture. Finally the doe walked off. HP settled on the rifle and I asked if she had a good sight picture. She said yes. I said "Whenever you are comfortable pull.....BAMMM!!!" She was apparently ready and double lunged the sow at 90 yds. She was a little more steely than her brother and couldn't wait to put hands on. We tossed the old girl in the truck and headed back to the dressing station and walk in cooler. I was afraid the dressing might put her off but she insisted on helping. The ranch hands made a special effort to praise her for helping control the hog population. Our first meal at home on return was pork......HER pig as she reminded us :) Here are the pics for each
 

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BigHornRam

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I was pheasant hunting with my first lab Chelan and an employee "Wild Bill". We were hunting on a wheat farm in the rolling Palouse hills near Moscow Idaho. I was hired to frame up an addition for the farmer and did a few extras to get permission to bird hunt his land.

Chelan and I were about 100 yards up hill above Bill, and had a good view of what was about to take place. Bill bumped a rooster and it flew straight back at him. He made a great shot right over his head, almost tipping over in the process.

At the shot, Chelan took off, straight down the hill for the bird. She picked it up and turned around. Bill called to her, "good girl Chelan. Bring the bird to me." Chelan took off and ran right past Bill, straight up the hill, to give the rooster to me! :) She was quite the loyal bird dog!
 

sharpshooter97

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Dec 6, 2018
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Too many to count, first one was on a pheasant hunt my dad took my brother and I on. I think I was 12 or so, that day my brother shot his first rooster and I shot my first limit! The three of us have been chasing roosters at least a couple times a year year since then. I am going to cheat and add one more because it’s quite funny, last fall my best friend and I were duck hunting a big slough, we jumped a big flock of divers and when they circled back around I knock one down and never hear my buddy shoot. I look over and there he is slipped in mud and laying on his back trying to get up, I quick grab my duck and go to help him as I’m laughing at him rolling around and another flock goes right over him. Sure enough he shoulder his gun with one arm and drops one of them, most amazing shot I’ve ever seen and I’m sure he’d never be able to duplicate.
 
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kenton

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Mar 19, 2014
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Ohio
Like everyone else, a plethora of memories to pick from. First Hunt, first deer, biggest buck, most sleep robbing mistake, first day guiding, ect… I think I will go back before all of those to the first time I even heard of someone hunting. I vividly remember sitting on the floor of my boy-hood home, probably in footy dinosaur pajamas, being all of 4 or 5 years old on this particular December Saturday morning when my dad walked into the house from a cold morning in the woods. This may not seem like a world changing event but consider that my dad was and is not much of a hunter but he loves to shoot targets and maintains a firearms collection any outdoorsman would be proud of. At this young age in my life, shooting guns had already become something of a passion as my dad always took the time to start instilling the fundamentals of shooting: firearms safety, parts of the gun, types of ammo, shooting form, trigger control, but not hunting. Looking back on that morning some 30 years later, its hard to understand how or why I was so intensely fascinated by his simple, yet world changing words. No doubt an afterthought to my dad, nine letters making up four small words that would take a little boy and set him off on a lifelong journey across this great country to witness nature in ways the little boy couldn't then and even now struggles to fully comprehend. "I saw a deer"
 

NR_Hunter

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Well one night I wasn’t feeling very good about life, so decided to get drunk alone. I felt pretty dumb for getting so drunk by myself, so as a way to punish myself I decided I better run out to western MN in a snow storm early that morning and take my 13 year old dog out hunting. It was gonna be about 3 hour drive with the weather, and at that age my dog was really only good for about one spot before he ran out of gas, so I had to pick the best spot, hope there were birds there, and make my shots count.

So I get out west, my old springer and I take to a sizable cattail slough. Right away I flushed about 20 birds, which was frustrating but pretty normal for December pheasants in MN. Finally tho, the old dog gets birdy and works up a big rooster and I put all five shells in the wind, not a feather. I couldn’t have felt worse. I felt like I could have blew it on the last bird I might ever shoot over my dog, seeing as how the season ended in a few days.

At that point I figured I might as well push the rest slough, so I reloaded my gun and started trudging. Not soon after a rooster flushed wild, I drew a bead on him and got the snapshot off in time to bring him down. I knew it wasn’t a clean shot but it didn’t matter, the old dog went into the cattails and pulled out the bird anyways. Very few times in my sporting life had I felt better than kneeling down in the snow hungover as hell, and hugging my dog than I have in that moment.
 
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