Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunting Rifles Mentors--hunting and shooting

I reckon it almost always begin with our dad. My dad took me gopher hunting from about age 7 onward, and we had great times sitting in pastures shooting hundreds of gophers. I enjoyed doing this with him for a period of about seven years. My dad didn't hunt game, nor did he hunt predators--and therefore, it was necessary to find an additional mentor who specialized in those endeavors...

I met that person in later 1971. I was introduced to him by a relative who worked for the railroad, and I had heard so many stories about this guy's extraordinary shooting skills, and his ability to hunt wary fox and coyote. For two months I heard these accounts--growing more and more interested in his skillsets every day. The idea of a guy effortlessly hitting fox on the run--even at 300 yards out--was too much. What kind of guy could do that, and what type of rig did he do that with?

The first time my relative and I bagged a fox, we took it over to his home to show it off. It was New Years morning of 1972. A typical January day--very cold. Bill was out laying in his truck--in a bad way, suffering the effects of a New Years Eve party they had at his house, and trying to sleep it off. He'd spent the night in his pickup. When he saw the fox it got his attention, and he was excited for us. We had a great visit, and he welcomed us into the world of predator hunting.

Would imagine there might be a few Campfire members out there that would recognize this fellow--Bill B. Just before he retired, I asked him to bring his rifle to work, and on that day I went down to where he worked and took several pictures of him--and his rifle--the famed Remingtom Model 700 .22-250, with a Balsix B&L scope on deck. The rig is now on it's third barrel, and though Bill can afford any rig--this one is his constant companion, coming out of the rack for every hunt.





Like any young teen, I would go by his place to see him whenever I could. He always took the time to encourage me, and always had an interesting story to tell--usually about a fox or coyote that he had tagged earlier in the day, or during the weekend. There was almost always a few predators laying in his truck--usually bagged early that morning--and often, some nice skinned foxes hanging in the entryway. Seeing that, my imagination would at once go riot, and the desire to hunt those critters became an obsession. I read everything I could get my hands on, and dreamed of having an accurate varmint rifle specifically to swat those crafty canines. Hours were spent studying rifles, scopes, mounts, bullets, handloading, etc. While the teachers would lecture, I would look at the catalogs hidden under my school work, fascinated by the world of hunting and shooting. I wrote in for every catalog I could get, pouring over all the wares. Dreaming. One teacher caught on--he was a hunter too--and subsequently, we had many great visits about hunting whitetails. But back to Bill.

One cold, windy night, I walked the 2 or 3 miles to his house--carrying my Remington Model 700 .270--something a young teen could do back then--and no one gave it a thought, or a care. He was just finishing up dinner, and I asked him if he could help me sight in my rifle. "You bet!" he said. We took his truck and drove it a ways out back, and he lined the headlights up on a gravel pile 50 yards distant. Bill placed a target out there and in a few shots had my rig zeroed--effortlessly. Then, he gave me a careful coaching--talking me through every shot, and I was making the hits. It was almost as if his words would guide the shot to the target. I felt 10 feet tall, and was ready for whitetail. To cap the evening off, he told me some exciting stories about some of the bucks he had shot with his famed .22-250, and I was hopelessly hooked.

I got ready to leave, as it was a school night. It would be a cold walk home in the dark, but the excitement of the moment was too much, and I would not have cared if it was 5 miles. "Hey Jer, I'll give you a lift home--it's cold, and it's getting late." What a collection of memories from those days beginning about 44 years ago. Powerful magic.

Perhaps some of you might have a photo, or a story about your hunting or shooting mentor that you might be inclined to share...