What got you started??
I started hunting about ten years ago. Talking with all my friends and family, and listening to them talk about all the good times they were haveing in the woods. Other than likeing venison, I had no attraction to geting out and shooting a deer.
I finaly decided to get on a lease with my brother, in East Texas. Not owning a gun, I ventured out to the local walmart and bought a winchester model 98 30-30. Threw on a 3-9 powered simons scope, and with a box 150 grain bullets, drove to the local gun range.. Well, I spent the entire box of ammo, went down range, got my target, jumped up and down when I had saw what I had done. I had twenty rounds on the paper, I didnt measure it at the time but Im guessing my patern was anywhere from 3" too about 18" around center.
This is my first gun, I was happy with the pattern. So the next weekend me and my brother went hunting. We stoped in Athins texas to get more ammo for my 30-30. So useing my expertese, with the one day shoot out at the gun range. I opted for the 180 grain bullets, thinking more knock down power on an animal that weighs maybee 130 pounds.
Needless to say, you guys are thinking this too. I missed two does. I emptied out the 30-30 twice with no remorse to the animals i was shooting at. I stood scratching my head, wondering if maybee I bumped or droped the gun in transport from home too the lease.
So later that week, I went back too the range. With the remaining 12 rounds, I started shooting "at" paper. To no avail, after 12 rounds spent, I didnt have a single hole in my target.
To make a very long story short. And after 200 boxes of ammo latter. I started reloading. With the Help of Ace Hughes, veteran gunner, bench rester, hunter, reloader, and retired Mesquite police Officer. I got my start in a life long aquisition for the better shot..
I finaly decided to get on a lease with my brother, in East Texas. Not owning a gun, I ventured out to the local walmart and bought a winchester model 98 30-30. Threw on a 3-9 powered simons scope, and with a box 150 grain bullets, drove to the local gun range.. Well, I spent the entire box of ammo, went down range, got my target, jumped up and down when I had saw what I had done. I had twenty rounds on the paper, I didnt measure it at the time but Im guessing my patern was anywhere from 3" too about 18" around center.
This is my first gun, I was happy with the pattern. So the next weekend me and my brother went hunting. We stoped in Athins texas to get more ammo for my 30-30. So useing my expertese, with the one day shoot out at the gun range. I opted for the 180 grain bullets, thinking more knock down power on an animal that weighs maybee 130 pounds.
Needless to say, you guys are thinking this too. I missed two does. I emptied out the 30-30 twice with no remorse to the animals i was shooting at. I stood scratching my head, wondering if maybee I bumped or droped the gun in transport from home too the lease.
So later that week, I went back too the range. With the remaining 12 rounds, I started shooting "at" paper. To no avail, after 12 rounds spent, I didnt have a single hole in my target.
To make a very long story short. And after 200 boxes of ammo latter. I started reloading. With the Help of Ace Hughes, veteran gunner, bench rester, hunter, reloader, and retired Mesquite police Officer. I got my start in a life long aquisition for the better shot..
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started when I was 8 way of life where I grew up 0 -
I didnt get started until i was 18. That was 3 years ago. My dad always had a shotgun for home protection, and he had a Marlin Model 60. I borrowed the shotgun one day, and maybe 4-5 boxes of shells, blasted away a water heater, and old car and some cans and never looked backed since. 0 -
Hunting, shooting and fishing was just what we did at my Fathers house. I started learning to shoot the .22 at about the age of seven or eight. Always went hunting with my Dad. Started hunting myself at twelve. 0 -
My Dad took me deer hunting when I was 6 years old. Instilled the desire that still haunts me. You can actually see my shirt bouncing back and forth, when a deer comes near, from my heartbeat. I went all through school with a buddy who's Dad was a local Police Officer/Gunsmith. I have great respect for this man. I would go over to Kevin's house many days and spend hours with his Dad out in the shop. Paul died a few years ago of heart problems. I saw him in the hospital just hours before he passed. I loved him like my own Dad who passed in '89 at 47 years old. I got the bulk of my official training at the SCCJA and learned a lot from the guys at the Greenville County Center for Advanced Training. When I got out of Law Enforcement I was a certified instructor in everything SCCJA offered, except RADAR. I actually went to the class. We broke for lunch and only 5 of us came back. Not enough people, no class. Took a Remington, Smith & Wesson, FN, and Mossberg armorers course at either Richland county or Lexington county in Columbia. Everything else I learned on my own. I've got it bad. I now have local law enforcement calling me to identify weapons and sometimes even get the bugs out of theirs. I had my heart attack November 17th and I haven't heard from too many of them. I hope they know I can still do some of that. I'll hush now.
This was written in the local paper 4 days after Daddy died.
Just starting out as one of Uncle Sam's Misguided Children.
Thanks for reading and looking. I can't express how much I miss that old man. If he were still with us we would be 76 on the 13th of January.
I have a handwritten letter from him that he wrote in 1972 and put in one of his gun boxes. If anyone wants to read it, say so and I'll post it under a new topic so I don't hijack this thread. Thanks guys. I'm just reminiscing.0 -
Guess i need to do some work on my profile, so you guys can see who your talking with.. 0 -
I've been hunting my whole life... 0 -
I never had a chance! Brother started teaching me to shoot when I was 5, went with him hunting when I was 8 ..... He reloaded, hunted, fished, I never knew any better. Still dont. Wouldn't have it any other way. 0 -
family tradition 0 -
Age 8. Just the way it was in our home. 0 -
Winchester 98? 0 -
quote:Originally posted by cartod
Winchester 98?
I saw that too.0 -
quote:Originally posted by duckhunter
Age 8. Just the way it was in our home.
Same here. Mostly coon/rabbit/squirell, and addingo turkey and whitetail after getting out on my own..0 -
quote:Originally posted by savage170
started when I was 8 way of life where I grew up
Same here.I started "beatin the bushes" at 5, with a stick. Got my first BBgun at 6, my first .22 at 7. Pop watched how i acted with them until i was 9.(Permit age in NJ)From there i never looked back.0 -
when my dad found out that I was stalking hunters, I was probably 7-8, he didn't think that was too smart, but I would trail them through the woods and sneak up on them, luckly no one shot me when I said boo.
Anyway I think he figured that if anyone shot at me I should be able to defend myself, so he gave me a gun, he didn't know I had been stealing his pistols, for a couple years, never got anything but a couple rabbits, anyway that was about 50 years ago. and I found that I liked shooting more then stalking (no more hunters tho) unless they were in our woods.
I got a black bear in PA when I was 11/12 I was sick. everyone went hunting left me alone. she was breaking in the cabin to get our pancakes, I figured she was 500 lbs coming through that window, I shot her twice with 12 gauge slugs.
Turns out she was a little smaller by about 300 or so. I felt bad but she was comming in and I wasn't comfortable with that. anyway I have hunted every year since and hope to hunt for this many more. I still prefer to stalk rather then sit, but I'm not so quite any more. most times I just sit in the back yard and get them down in the flats, its not so far I can roll them onto a sled and take them up to the barn and gut and process them there.0 -
I'm any Iowan. That's where my heart is that that's probably where I'll retire after I'm done with the Army. However, I grew up in Minneapolis and there wasn't much opportunity or $$$ for hunting and shooting.
A friend of mine took me hunting in college. I've been hooked ever since I bought that first gun--NEF single shot 12-gauge shotgun.0 -
Winchester Model 98, got a 450 marlin in the same gun, lever action 0 -
I don't hunt, but I got into shooting and collecting guns because one of my friends had a bit of a scare. And while it was just that, I realized I have too many people in my life who are too important to me to leave to the inconsistent performance of those supposedly magical digits known around the country as "911."
To paraphrase the old saying, one gun in the hand is worth two cops somewhere else.0 -
What got you started??
Deja Vu with my caveman life.0 -
My grandpa. That old fart gave me my first .22 rifle when I was 7 and I killed my first deer when I was 9. (with a prewar commercal 98 mauser not the .22. That mauser was taller than I was) Little did he know his hobby would become my obesscion in life. 0 -
Started early. Its a way of life in our family. 0 -
I begged my dad to take me hunting from the time I was old enough to walk in the mid 1960's.
Dad only had one gun for all of my younger childhood. It was a Savage 12 gauge shotgun. He later accumulated 2 others in my teenage years, the .410 bolt he bought from my cousin and the Marlin Glenfield model 60 he bought from me when I needed some money. The .410 bolt gun was my older cousin's and my dad used to take him hunting as a child before any of us were old enough to go. He only hunted a few years and my dad bought it off him in case he ever wanted to start hunting again.
My dad "horse traded" -as he called it, for that old Savage copy of a Browning Auto-5. He told me he had brought back a Steyr revolver from WWII that he traded for a 45 auto. He traded the 45 for something else which he sold or traded to someone else until he finally ended up with enough money and bought the Savage.
It was the "Sportsman" model which held 3-shots. I later told him that I wished he would have kept some of those other guns but he told me that he had no use for a handgun or rifle. He needed a shotgun so he could hunt pheasants and with a wife and 7 kids, you needed to make choices and do with what you had.
My dad loved pheasant hunting more than anything else and that was pretty much all he did other than shoot an occasional partridge or rabbit that he bumped while hunting pheasant. He told me he had tried deer hunting once or twice after he had gotten back from the war but said that he just didn't seem to enjoy it all that much after all the shooting he had to do for Uncle Sam.
Dad stored his shotgun in the front closet of our east-side Detroit home. I recall dad taking the shotgun out of the old brown suede-like case with the little shoestring tie that secured it, the evening or so before pheasant season started. He would take out the 2 or so boxes of shells and his old hunting knife out of the shoebox on the shelf at the top of the closet where he also had his Sunday hat and a few other things.
Then he would have me or one of my brothers dig out his gun cleaning kit from a wooden pop case from the closet floor. This box held shoe polish and the brushes and stuff he used to shine his shoes. His gun cleaning kit was contained in an old shirt sleeve he cut from one of his old military shirts. A knot was tied near the shoulder to close it one end and he would put the cleaning stuff inside and then twist it near the cuff and then fold the other end back over and button the cuff around the rest of the cleaning kit to close it.
He would un-button it and then take out his 3 piece Outers cleaning rod and a few old brushes along with some flannel patches cut from an old shirt. He had one of those old spiral-wound brushes as well as a regular brass bore brush and an aluminum tip to hold the patches and a few other things.
He would clean the gun the evening or so before pheasant season began, swabbing out the barrel and wiping the action with an old oily rag. The he would go into the basement and get his old tan canvas hunting pants and coat that was hung on a old hook from one of the rafters. He had one of us grab a couple of bushel baskets up from the basement as well. He would check the contents of the old hunting coat. Inside one pocket, he kept a field cleaning kit which was just a piece of cord about 4 or so feet long with a little brass eye hook on one end and a couple of patches tied on the other end and about halfway up. One patch was oiled and one was dry. It was similar to the pull-through cleaning kits I've seen that were used in WWII. He kept it in case he ended up getting mud or snow in his gun barrel. He told me if he fell and got his barrel plugged, he could use a stick to get the biggest part of the obstruction out and then drop the little brass eyebolt into the action and pull it through the barrel to clean and oil it. He would also use it at the end of the day if he had shot the gun, especially if it had been raining or he got the gun wet.
Anyway, he would fold up his hunting coat and hat and put them and his shells into the bushel basket. He always took at least 2 bushel baskets as he would often buy a bushel or two of apples at the farm that he hunted at as well as some cold, fresh squeezed apple cider.
When he returned from hunting, we would run out to the car to see if he had gotten any pheasants. He would open the back of the old station wagon and show us the bird or birds and then tell us to help carry the goodies and hunting stuff into the house. I remember the smell of the pheasants and his hunting clothes. He would sometimes bring us pumpkins and indian corn for halloween. I remember stringing indian corn into a necklace and using it with a pheasant tail feather for an halloween indian costume when I was still quite young.
When I was about 9 or 10 years old, my dad would sometimes let me go hunting with him. He would come into our room to wake my older brother and I would ask if I could go along as well. I learned to sleep lightly because I would be so disappointed if dad and my older brother slipped out without me waking.
I would walk along on dad's side at first and he would have to keep telling me not to get ahead of him so that he could shoot if a bird went up. When I got a little older, I could also walk through the cornfields with the other drivers to push the pheasants to the posters. We would make a lot of noise, sometimes making barking or beagle-howling noises to keep pushing the pheasants ahead. Man, it was like I died and went to heaven. I was one of the hunters!
When I was about 11, my dad let me fire his gun. It was at the end of the day and me and my older brother were both walking back to the farmhouse with dad after working some fields and dad asked if we wanted to shoot the gun. He had let my older brother shoot it once before but this time he let each of us shoot it. I bragged for weeks how I had shot a 12 gauge!
I didn't get to actually hunt until I was about 15 because there were not many places to get a hunter safety course in Detroit. My older brother never did start hunting himself. I took JROTC in 9th grade and finally got my hunter safety card. That fall, I got to go hunting for real! Dad bought me an old Eastern Arms 12 gauge single shot at a gun show for $15 and then gave me some of his shotgun shells.
As a kid, I would dream nightly of hunting and pheasants flushing for a full 2 weeks before hunting season started. This started after going with dad as a small child and continued until my late teen years.
By then my dad was starting to slow down. After a morning of hunting, he would be pretty well tired out. I would continue to hunt with the farmer's family as well as the other hunters that showed up there that day. Dad was about 52 years old. I remember him getting tired and after a few fields, he would tell me to take his Savage and he would take my single shot. He would work his way back to the car and rest or talk with the farmer. The farmer would hunt a field or 2 and then would have to get back to work and my dad would chat or lend a hand where he could. Little did I know that my dad would be around just a little less than 10 years more.
The next year, I was 16 and had my own car and a job. I bought the Glenfield model 60 mentioned above that I sold to dad when I needed some cash and then I also bought a Remington 1100 20 gauge sometime after that. I continued to hunt sometimes with Dad and also went by myself and took my younger brothers and a few friends hunting as well.
My father developed diabetes and had to retire after he got ulcers on his feet. Over the next 10 years his health deteriorated and he eventually lost one leg and a couple of toes on the other foot as well as having a couple of heart attacks. He died a couple days short of his 62nd birthday after several weeks of hospitalization. I'm not ashamed to say that after 22 years, I still miss him deeply. The same farmer had lost one of his son's around that same time from hodgkin's disease. His son and I hunted together sometimes when I came there alone. I remember talking to the farmer that next fall and we were both fighting back the tears for each others losses as well as our own. My dad was his friend and his son had been mine. Just writing this last couple of paragraphs, I have had to stop several times to wipe a few tears.
Hunting and fishing with Dad were such memorable times for me as a child. It might not be such a surprise that I ended up going into Conservation Law Enforcement as a full time career after working for UPS for 8 years. My dad never got to see me become a game warden but you should have seen how proud he was of me as a UPS driver. He only ever got to see one of his grandchildren and he told me to give him one of his guns when he got older. I gave him the Glenfield.
My youngest brother still has dad's old Savage. I have the .410 and his cleaning stuff but I got rid of the old shirt sleeve years ago. I wish I still had it. It sure reminds me of simpler times. And I still use the old spiral-wound brush to get plastic fouling out of my shotgun barrrel sometimes. I don't know what happened to dad's old hunting coat but I know it isn't around any more. Now 20+ years later, I am retired and I can already feel myself slowing down a little. My 15 and 13 year old are sound asleep while I type this. It kind of reminds me of my own mortality.
To me, hunting is more than recreation or sport. It is so much more meaningful and important than that.0 -
Well said. 0 -
I had nevr hunted by myself or with anyone else. Daddy was on the Board of Directors of the hunt club. I went with him on work days and did the work. When he passed I had to hunt alone. I did that for about 4 or 5 years and then my B-I-L wanted to hunt with me. Now both of us are on the Board of Directors of the same club. 0 -
I grew up out in the country so shooting and hunting were part of the lifestyle. 0 -
Seemed everyone I was introduced to in my younger life hunted. Dad hunted, collected guns, shot on the company pistol team, and reloaded. I never had a chance. Started hunting with family amd joined hunt clubs in my teen years. I love being in the woods. Figured out a few years back that it ain't about killin', but being out in Gods country. The killin' is secondary. Have a small camp in the Atchafalaya Basin and would live there 367 days a year if I didn't have a family to raise. 0 -
What got me started?.........
At age 7, my Dad.
Never made me mad.
Now, he's gone. Dad.
Aahh, the times we had.
I remember him each time I'm in the woods.
Thanks, Dad.0
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