Paleo,

That’s a nice one. For me, it hunts for rabbits and birds with my dad. I followed his lead, watching him kick brush piles and sometimes being the dog to crash the fence rows to try to chase out something to shoot at. We didn’t kill a whole lot, but we spent long days in the woods and fields. I think that set a good pace for me today. I love to spend the hours in the woods and it’s not a requirement to kill anything, just a bonus.

Nice topic, Paleo. I hope to read some more good stories. peace, dwc

growing up in the Swiss Alps, my earliest memories are mostly about chamois. I remember being around 12 and stalking these mountain goats early in the morning where they could be found feeding on the first sunny ridges and slopes. The game would end when my pine cone found their butt! In retrospect, this was clearly a case of illegal game harassment! I still harass them today, but with my iPhone! Not throwing it at them, of course!:P

I’ve never been able to resist approaching wild animals!:shock:

You paint well with words, my friend! That is exquisite verbiage and I can see it with you.

I went small game hunting with my Dad… he could spot rabbits eyeball sitting tight in a alfalfa field…and head shoot them with his shotgun.

The rest? I taught him to hunt and fish pretty much…not the other way around.

I’ve seen some majestic critters in the wild… but I was older and out on my own…

My most vivid early life encounters were with ring necked pheasants cock birds! Cackle chickens… we called them…

I can see them busting out of honey-suckle bushes covered in snow long after the season ended when we chased rabbits… and just watching them fly away canvassed upon the white tapestry of new snow.

Nothing quite like your vision, though!:shock:

My Father was the Fire Chief at West Point MA, New York and he had access to keys that un-locked gates, that led down dirt trails to amazing little lakes/big ponds filled with big bass and blue-gills, those same keys un-locked the small row boats neatly lined-up along the shore.

As a little kid, I always thought of that key board at the main-gate guard house as magic, we never realy knew which waters we were able to fish as some areas would be closed due to training, but as long as we were out there, all was good…

Seeing a herd of 40plus deer run off a hill side ahead of group of soldiers on training exercises while fishing one of the West Point lakes was not the first time I had seen Deer, but it is one that has stuck with me as the first time I really was biten by the hunting bug…

On a wet foggy late September morning my father , older brother and I went bow hunting on the opening day of the 1972 Wisconsin archery deer season. I recall many of the details of my first bow hunt. The weather, the doe that ran in front of us as we pulled over to park. Because of that. I was sure there were going to be deer everywhere I looked.

And there was my bow. I had got it the July prior at the Penny’s outlet store in the Twin Cities. Our family had went shopping and with my 12th birthday just days away my folks said get what ever you want for $20.00 or less. The store had a large sporting good area, and that is where I headed. When I first saw the 55 gallon drum of recurve bows I headed right to it. They had some that were $20.00 others were more. I found a 62” Ben Pearson Colt with a 45# pull. I told my folks that it was what I wanted. My older brother also got one as a early gift, he would turn 14 in October. And to our surprise our dad also got one but his was a Mustang model instead of the Colt.

I hunted with that bow for awhile before moving on to other bows. I even lost the bow for awhile when I was 17. I had just got a different bow. My friend and next door neighbor wanted to get into bow hunting and asked if he could buy my old recurve. I said it was not for sale but he could use it until he got a different one, we agreed that he would give me $20.00 to hold while he used the bow to be returned when I got the bow back. Well one day he comes over to shoot with a different recurve and I tell him to bring back my bow and I would give his money back. At which time he explains he traded bows with his uncle Greg. I was upset but did not make an issue of it. Then about four years later I was going fishing with a buddy from work and he asked me to go into his parents house and grab his fishing pole from the closet just inside the door. And there it was in the closet- my bow! I grabbed the fishing rod and asked my buddy about the bow in the closet. He told me that his uncle Greg had giving it to his younger brother. I asked if they shot it? He said no and that their mom had been telling them to get rid of it. I explained the history of the bow and asked if I could buy it. They would not take any money and gave me the bow.

Back to that first hunt. This now being my 40th Wisconsin archery season. I wanted to relive some of the memories from that hunt so long ago. These past couple of years I have reshaped the grip and arrow shelf of that old bow. I made some wood arrows for it and shot it at a few shoots. It is a nice shooter, this past June I shot the 10th highest score out of hundreds of shooters at a large Traditional archery shoot. When I woke up today with a light rain ending and fog in the air, just like that September morning in 1972. I knew where I was going hunting, where I would park, and what bow I would carry. No doe ran in front of me as I parked. More leafs were off the trees, it was a good ten degrees cooler. The land was no longer private but now owned be the Fish and Wildlife Service so that same field edge I sat on that had alfalfa in it years ago now has prairie grass and golden rod. The fence along the field edge has grown up a lot, but I found a spot to put a stool (my knees are not that of a 12 year old, and kneeling on the ground was not going to happen) and sat in the same general area as all those seasons ago. Like that first hunt much was the same. The sounds of waterfowl in the wetland behind me, the fog, but I no longer wanted to get a shot at a deer more than anything! If a doe would have stepped into my shooting lane I would have taken the shot. But I think I am glad one did not because to keep it like the first hunt. I am glad to have went home empty handed.

The most rewarding part that first hunt was the long walk in and out with my dad and brother the excitement for that and future hunts. Today the long walk again was the best part, the memories of that first hunt, the others that followed and the hunts yet to come.

The walk

Now in my 42nd year of hunting, I have taken a lot of walks afield in pursuit of large and small game. Often those walks into or out from the targeted hunting area, alone or with others have been my favorite part of the outings.

Two of these walks stand out above the rest. The first and the last walks, while separated by over 41 years they are very much tied together. They both take place in the same field and were part of a bow hunt for deer.

The first was a walk in before daylight, opening day of archery deer season in September of 1972. With me on that hunt were my older brother and my father. That July prior my Dad had bought both my brother and I recurve bows for our birthdays and he picked one up for himself as well. We practiced a lot and my brother and father became quite accurate with their bows I would need to keep my shots much closer.

I recall just as we pulled the car over to park at the field edge a big doe ran in front of us. I was sure there would be deer everywhere and we would be bringing at least one home with us. That walk in across the dew covered ground in silence along with my dad and brother not wanting to spoke any deer was so exciting and I remember it as if though it were only yesterday. We never got a deer that day; it would be a couple of years until my brother’s archery skills would bring our family its first archery deer harvest.

The last walk as of this writing took place November 2nd of this year. The man who bought me my first bow and always made time to get my two brothers and I out hunting, fishing and camping often. Has had some health issues, my brothers, our families and I have spent most of the past two weeks helping him though this by being at the hospital and transitioning into the next step in his healing. On the afternoon of the 2nd as my younger brother, his wife and I left the hospital I asked what they had planned for evening. They hoped to go home and sit in their tree stands for a couple hours before dark. Driving home from the St Paul I said to my wife “ if I grab my gear and take off I too could get about an hour and a half of bow hunting in”. I got home grabbed bow, stand, safety harness, and other items and drove a short distance to the spot of my first bow hunt in 1972.

After a 600 yard walk I put my stand six feet up in an elm tree along the edge of a swamp and the mowed fire break of an oak savannah area on the water fowl production area I was hunting. After securing myself in and pulling my longbow up. I checked the time 4:45pm, closing time was 6:15 pm giving me 1.5 hours as planned. At 5:55 I rattled some antlers together trying to sound like two bucks fighting. Shortly after I look up and see a buck 50 yards out in the grass heading right to me. At 17 yards I made a good shot and the five point was mine.

Now back to the walk, after tagging and, field dressing my deer. I went home and got my trailer and game cart. After loading the buck onto the cart, I started the process of getting back out to the road. When I got to the field I stopped to take a break and admire the stars and clear ski. The big dipper was to the North leading the way to my Jeep and trailer. As I stood there, I wondered how many hunters before this moment had taken a break while hauling out their game and found themselves amazed with the awe of the stars on a clear cool night. Then that thought was gone and that first walk in 1972 came to mind and while I do not hunt this spot often I have hunted it over the years and I had finally got a deer. That thought was brief because I realized that the only reason I was hunting then and still enjoy hunting and the outdoors, was because of the time and love my dad gave to my brothers and me instilling a passion for the outdoors. I made that walk with buck in toll, take as long as I could walking slow and stopping often.

Just as I finished loading the buck into the trailer my phone rang, it was my younger brother checking to see if I needed a hand. We spoke briefly about our evening hunts. Then I mentioned the thoughts about dad taking me here on my first hunt, and while he was too young to go on that hunt. He has similar memories of hunts down in the Clark County Forest that dad made our Opening day of bow hunting tradition that will be remembered for years to come. There was a brief silence between us where nothing need be said, we knew what the other was thinking. Just how much greatest man we know, has done for us.

Dad’s stuff

I just got back from an outdoors trip to NW Nebraska. The plan for this trip had started three months ago with my very good friend Dave. We had planned to leave April 1st on a bow hunting trip for turkeys and also get in a day of trout fishing. But when my Dads health turned for the worse we cancelled the trip. Dad passed on March 30th. I decided to get away for awhile and make the trip to Nebraska on April 15th for a few days. Dave was unable to make the later date. My hopes are that we can try again next year. I decided to only bring some of dad’s old hunting/fishing gear on the trip in remembrance of him. So armed with his old single shot break action 16 gauge, four shot shells I found at his house and an old telescoping fishing pole and a reel he had won at a St. Croix County of Sportsman’s Club banquet, but never opened. Off I went, I headed out with a twelve hour drive and getting camp set up I did not hunt the first day. Wednesday I awoke at 3:30 am to a heavy rain and snow mix that lasted until around 11:00 am. That afternoon I heard and saw some birds and had a plan for early Thursday. My plan did not work. So to Fort Robinson I went to buy a one day fishing License for Friday. I was back out hunting by 11:00 am and at 1:50 pm called gobbler into 12 yards where I harvested it with the trusty old gun.

Friday found me up well before sunrise getting ready for a day of trout fishing on the middle fork of Soldier creek in the Soldier Creek Wilderness area, after hiking in over a mile to the spot I wanted to fish. And with the help of Dads rod and reel, I harvest 5 nice trout. The largest a 15 inch brown. The other four were between 12 and 13 inches and consisted of a brook trout and 3 cutthroats.

As a whole the trip allowed me much time to reflect on many past outings with dad. The one that came to mind most often was a Turkey hunting / trout fishing / camping trip to Vernon County WI in the Bad Axe watershed over 30 years ago with Dad and my brother Rick. No turkeys were gotten. But Dad caught his first ever trout a small brown.

My brothers, I and our children are very lucky to have had the man we call Dad / Grandpa, do so much for and with us. Those memories will live on for long time to come.

My very first experience with Deer Hunting was with a family friend. He invited me to go hunting with him when I was in my Teens. He took me up in the Adirondack Mountains. We hiked in for about a mile and then he turns to me and says ” I’m going this way, You go that way. Move slowly and look for movement and fresh sign. Good Luck, I’ll meet you at the truck at dark”.

Needless to say I experienced and learned more that day then I ever did again.