Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Ask The Gunwriters Your hunting heritage...where did it come from?

I came from a long line of hunters but I often see guys that say there ancestors did not own guns or hunt and in some cases even were against it. My father was a hound man and excellent deer hunter as well as my great grand father. My Dad used an old sporterized Enfield in 30-06 and my great grand father a '76 Winchester in 32-40. I was following my Dad around when I was about 5 years old killing squirrels and climbed into a tree stand w/him in the hill country of Texas when I was 6. This was about 1957-58. I can't remember a time in my life when I was not consumed w/deer hunting. I'd like to hear from some of you other fellas about how you became a hunter...especially those that didn't come from a hunting back ground and how you became one. powdr

Mine came from my DNA. My dad hunted, but not a lot. He grew up during the depression so hunting back then wasn't all that good and was kind of a luxury. Plus he passed away when I was in high school, so didn't have a lot of time to "pass it on." We did go fishing a lot, which he enjoyed more than hunting. I have four older brothers and I'm the only hunter in the bunch.

So I pretty much picked it up on my own.

My great grandfather, who I never knew, fished and hunted for a living.

"Mine came from my DNA."

Same here. I believe it's called the "Ug Gene". Growing up in Baltimore City my hunting started with a bb gun vs rats. Finally hooked up with my uncle for some deer hunting but he didn't stick with it long.

Ditto. My pop was an avid hunter, and his grandfather was an accomplished gunsmith. My gramps didn't care for guns/hunting at all, but he enjoyed exercising his machinist talents to help us with our gun projects.

My family always hunted. They came over from Germany in the early 1800's and were farmers and tavern owners. We had great small game hunting but not much big game. Eventually, market hunting all but ended big game hunting in southern PA. Through their travels they met some northern PA men who never hunted small game before. So they invited them down, and in turn got invited to come north for deer and bear. Been going north for big game ever since. When I was about 6 most of the older guys from up north quit coming down for small game. Couple years later, farming practices totally changed how you hunt small game and the amount of available game. I can honestly say I dont know anyone in my family that hunts small game today. Big game, well, still a strong family tradition.

My grandfather and a lot of the people who lived in our area. IMO when and where you grew up has as much to do with it as anything else.

My great-to-the-52,167rd power grandfather got sick of eating roots and berries, and knocked a crippled antelope over the head with a rock. The rest, as they say, is (pre)history.

Started with me. Dad was a recreational fisherman until my rich uncle gave him a set of golf clubs when I was about 8. Never forgave the guy either.

I will do anything, even work, to be outside.

Mine is genetic. My father stopped hunting before I was born. He always claimed he was sitting on a stump his first season home after a long European vacation in the mid-forties when a he heard a bullet snap by him hitting a tree near by. Said he didn't survive WWII to get killed in a Michigan swamp.

He always fished, though.

[i][/i]Both Dad and Gramps were out of hunting before I came online.

Grandpa had grown up on a farm in Brecksville, OH and had remained an avid bird shooter into the 1940's. However, the scarcity of birds and the aging of his father-in-law (my great-grandfather) caused him to drop out.

Dad was a big-time trap shooter-- used to compete at Vandalia, but gave it all up when I was a baby.

I had zero exposure to any hunting until I was well out of college and fell in with a group of old farts that were part of the vast right-wing conspiracy. I became indoctrinated about age 25, and have been going full-tilt ever since.

One interesting side note: I had a great uncle that was a hunting . . .er. . . the term wasn't a Jagermeister (that's an icky drink), but it was something like that. He hunted in the Black Forest, and was a favorite of Herman Goering and the like. Dad got to hunt stag with him once back in the 50's.

I grew up in eastern NC, we lived in town, but several of my uncles were farmers and owned farms in the county - we hunted them. We were small game hunters; my Dad and my Uncle Fred started taking me when I was about seven, and my younger brothers came along when they each got to be seven. Hard to believe I'm 50+ years a hunter now! I still hunt some small game - dove this coming Monday for opening day, birds on preserves, and rabbits at the farm in season - hunt rabbits with hounds. Now I hunt deer quite often (we didn't have many deer to hunt when I was a boy), waterfowl in Currituck Sound, and spring turkey - those are my most frequent and most fun game to hunt. Odessa

There were no big game hunters or guns for that use in my family.
I always had the desire and grew up on 'fiftys outdoor mags and developed the dream of someday hunting the Rockies with the "ultimate" rifle, a 30-06
Life got in the way for a while but I gradually got the time and taught myself as much as I could
One day after a lot of years I found myself in Colorado hunting Elk. I had pretty much got past the 30-06 dream but I remembered I had one in the truck, went back and got it, and finally lived the dream.
I made sure my kids got the chance to start early and taught them as much as I could.
Their skill has long since surpassed mine but the joy of being out there with them keeps me going.

Grew up with weapons and hunting. My Scottish grandfather raised sheep and a few cattle and pigs. Being tight with money, as in his livestock was worth $$, he would send his sons out with a pack string and his *shopping list*, way before the days of licensing. So growing up we were always meat hunters first.

My Great Great Great Granpappy! He hunted Yankees with a Whitworth rifle!

My great-grandfather moved west from Tennessee with a family friend at the turn of the last century to homestead a piece of land just outside of Ashton, ID. They were only one or two generations removed from Germany. It was rough going, and most of their meat came from hunting and fishing. It was a subsistence situation, so creeks were dynamited, and game was killed as needed. Eventually, after having several kids who participated in the gathering of as much food as possible from nature, my great-grandpa sold his homestead to his friend and moved. The perspective stuck in my grandfather, and though he lived in metro areas and within towns when he started his family, he was a hunter, fisherman, berry picker, and fungophile in his spare time. My father grew up in this world, and was more at home in nature than in town. By the time I came around, he had lost his desire to eat wild game, so he hunted less and less. I only hunted with him for varmints, and he never took me game hunting. He was an avid shooter and handloader though.

I was very impressed by the guns, bullets, loading paraphernalia from the earliest age, and I snuck into his hobby room and read his loading manuals as soon as I could read, about age 5. The hunting was more of a social thing for me, and I went hunting with whomever I could when I came of age. My kids will be hunters if they desire to be.

From within. No one in my family hunted.

Dad was a fisherman and a bit of a gun nut though.

My grandfather was a bird hunter. Had some great dogs. One of his dogs was pretty well known and a farmer from where I live now wanted to cross his females with him. The farmer and my grandfather hit if off and started hunting together (quail).

My dad would go with them as a kid and head the opposite way with his beagles rabbit hunting. Dad loved it here so much that as soon as he graduated college he bought some land and built a house. I was born a couple of years later.

Grew up rabbit and deer hunting with my dad, quail hunting with my grandfather. Still hunt with my dad, grandfather's been gone 10 years now...man I miss him. If it wasn't for hunting (and bird dogs), I probably wouldn't have grown up where I did...made a difference in my life before I was even born.

I believe the desire to hunt is both exposure to it and inborne thing.

My Dad hunted, but got way more into it because it was something that I dearly loved. On the other hand, I have a brother that loves being outdoors, but rarely hunts and we grew up in the same situation

It didn't hurt either that it was right out our front door. Hunting was cheap entertainment that didn't require much money or travel.

Started with me. Grew up on a farm so there were always guns around and Dad taught me to use them safely when I was really young, but they were just another tool to him.

Favorite uncle was a WWII vet and hunted a lot, he had something to do with it I'm sure.

But a couple of friends and I started hunting together in high school, I still hunt with one of them every year.

My dad had hunted some as a young man and is pretty knowledgeable on guns but with the demands of a dairy farm and raising 5 kids he didn't stay with it. His true love was always farming.

My brother and I started trapping before we got into hunting. We both shot on the high school rifle team and the hunting came as an extension of those activities. Dad always encouraged our trapping and hunting. We didn't have much for a deer population growing up so that came after I left home. Hunted lots of woodchucks, fox, coon and coyotes along with plenty of ducks and geese. It was great to be able to talk guns with Dad even though he didn't hunt.

This is great stuff. I especially like the comment about where one grows up has a lot to do w/one's hunting heritage. Also about one's siblings. Both my brother's hunt but neither are as died in the wool as I was and am. Tracks comments about exposure for his kids and grand kids also makes me thankful that my Dad exposed me at a young age. Once my Dad took me that one time I was hooked for life. I can still remember that first hunt like it was yesterday even though it was 55 years ago. powdr

.......................Ah, never mind.

I will do anything to avoid golf. When I was 9 we moved to a place next to a golf course. My dad played, and one of my brothers really got into it and got very good at it, still is.

I couldn't stand it. Some of us kids in the neighborhood made a habit of doing anything/everything to mess with the golfers.

Every male in my family on both sides hunted. Some more serious than others. It was inevitable for me.

I'm a kid from Kentucky that is one generation from the farm. My dad grew up on the farm during the depression and basically they raised or hunted everything they ate. Rabbits and squirrels were a staple then .
When I was a kid we visited my Grandmother most weekends and I spent time in the summers there. Shot my first 22 at a probably 5 and got my own at age 9-10 and by that time we had the run of the farm. I can remember Dad giving my two older brothers my cousin and I a box of shorts or longs to split and we made a day of it. Groundhogs lived hard as well as chicken killing skunks an occasional fox and countless barn pigeons crows rabbits and squirrels. Nobody got shot& no property damaged I can remember so it worked out pretty well. I still remember watching dad shoot a big fox squirrel out of the top of a big hickory tree with his High Standard pistol off hand when I was about 5-6. I was hugely impressed to say the least. Still am, it was an impressive shot. Anyway I never looked back.

Yeah, and mine hunted Rebels. We don't spend much time worrying about it up here anymore.

Some folks seem to hold a grudge....

Digging this thread.

My mother's 1/2 were not hunters but also NOT anti guns/hunting.

My dad and his folks were hunters but the depression certainly hampered things.
My dad started me hunting squirrels and then to quail.
I was about 10 yo and he borrowed a customized 303 B from a long time friend. Dad stood it next to the front door the night before going deer hunting the next AM.

I remember it like it was last night. To a kid I thot it was the best looking gun I'd ever seen. Didn't know at the time, anything about the cartridge just a great looking rifle.

I've been a rifle nut (loony) ever since. My dad and that friend have been gone a long time now but NOT FORGOTTEN !!!

Mine comes from my dad.




And it's being passed on to my grandson...






Much of my hunting zeal came from my boyhood buddies, Tommy and Jimmy McDonough. We three decimated all life on Peavine Mountain as kids with our BB guns, then pellet guns. Tommy died years ago when he rolled his truck on way back from grouse hunting; he was my best friend.

His older brother Jim and I still hunt together as often as we can manage.

My mom was a great cook ( I say was, because she's now 92 and has discovered microwaves and frozen feasts). She learned game cooking at a very early age. She was the oldest of seven children growing up on the prairie of NE South Dakota. Her dad market hunted to keep a sod roof over their heads in her early days. What she could do with an old tough goose was amazing.

My father hunted when he was a kid growing up, partly on a homestead, in central Montana, but didn�t by the time I was born. He kept a few guns and liked to plink with a .22 rifle or handgun but that was about it. Apparently he didn�t like eating a lot of jackrabbits and sage grouse when he was a kid, which is apparently what the family subsisted on a lot during the homestead years.

I apparently got my hunting fever from my grandmother, who didn�t hunt much either by the time I knew her, and died when I was five. (Grandpa died during the Depression.) But she was a tough woman who homesteaded by herself just after World War I, and a hell of a rifle shot, even using one for wingshooting birds. She liked to hunt deer and elk for meat, and pronghorn when they finally became legal game again. She couldn�t cook anything worth a damn, whether game or tame, but apparently I didn�t eat enough of her cooking to turn me off eating game.

Some of my dad�s friends took me deer hunting when I got old enough, and I did a lot of small game hunting on my own, especially when working in the tiny tourist town where my dad�s brother Larry ran a summer theater. He had hunted deer when younger, but didn�t hunt much by the time I got old enough to go after big game.

My brother didn�t inherit any of it, though he fishes some, and one of my two sisters has fished some too. For a long time they kept waiting for me to grow out of hunting, but finally realized it wasn�t happening.

Mostly from my Dad and brother. Lived on a farm in rural Nebraska and used wild game and fish to supplement our mostly vegetarian and fruit diet. Dad died in 1956 and we moved to the big city of Grand Island in 1958 where I met a special friend and hunting mentor names Joyce Hornady. I hunted with Mr. Hornady frequently until his passing. He showed me how to reload in his office at the Hornady plant.

My dad was a seriously infected hunter and my brothers and me got the disease. My Dad is long gone, but my brothers and I will be hunting together this fall. Soon, actually, mid Sept. for deer and elk.

Mo Ed -

I think you were a lucky dog !

My mothers dad didn't hunt much. He was a sharecropper when she was growing up and there was t anything left to hunt around their place in those days. She stated occasionally there would be a rabbit or a squirrel show up from somewhere. But all that ever raided the chicken house was skunks! Deer where they lived were nonexistant!

My dad's family was different. Dad's dad was a notorious poacher and fisherman. He didn't even own a gun until like WWII. He'd borrow a rifle or shotgun. from a neighboring rancher when they needed a deer. He wasn't a game hog. Just took deer when needed. Was feeding a family. But his real forte was catching catfish on a trot or throw line. They were always on the river fishing. In those days the rivers had water in them and the springs were still running.

My dad would on occasion take me bird hunting. He liked to hunt birds. His brother, my uncle, was a big coon hunter! I really enjoyed coon hunting. I still remember some of his dogs long since passed. Pluto, Sally, Ola, and many more. Those were pleasant times. They are all gone now.

Excellent thread - much to think about.

Heritage - I had none. Grew up in busy SE Pennsylvania. I do remember once seeing my very good grandfather arrive home in pheasant hunting gear after a day with folks from his workplace (apparently an "expected" attendance) - but he was not enthused, and I know he did not own a shotgun. Always curious and interested as a kid, but zero opportunity.

So, I created my own hunting tradition after I took my first job after college - in Arizona. Bought a surplus mil Mauser in 7X57 from a Sears flyer, worked it into a hunting rifle, and went hunting mule deer. Got a nice buck.

So, it grew on me - went out for everything I was allowed to hunt as often as possible. AZ was really good that way in the 60s - so over many years I learned mule deer, coues deer, elk, antelope, black bear, javelina, dove, quail, all of the varmints and a few other things. Also became very interested in rifles/shooting/reloading and was tutored quite a bit by a couple of fine older gents. The best.

Other than the initial reloading stuff, have been pretty much on my own - self taught - usually hunt alone.

Taught all 4 daughters to shoot well, but they never became interested in hunting - they just asked questions about my adventures and ate the stuff. Have been teaching all 6 grandkids to shoot - they are good at it - but only 2 are likely to be lifetime hunters. Those 2 are very good. A zillion % better than I was as a kid.

No doubt about that.

powdr;
Thanks for the thought provoking thread and thanks to those who've replied to share their experiences and thoughts on a subject I've pondered over often.

Honestly after watching our two girls grow up I believe that most of our traits are born in us, though indeed where we're born and how we're raised will affect whether or not the particular trait is nurtured.

I was born in very rural Saskatchewan in '62 where almost everyone we knew hunted and everyone had firearms. The pastor at our church hunted, the power guy, the grain elevator guy - but certainly it was all guys back then.

As far as I can determine my grandfathers on both sides hunted once they came to western Canada from Europe and my late father was an avid hunter.

The family joke - so I learned much later in life - was that I came to be after Dad returned from his annual two week moose hunt.

I'm told when I was 3 or 4 that I'd throw a fit when Dad wouldn't take me along on that annual hunt - and my brother who is 9 years older than I couldn't understand it as he wanted to farm - not hunt.

Here's me in '65 with a moose I "claimed" as mine. Yes that's a toy gun in my hands.


A wee bit later, perhaps unsure if I've brought "enough gun" - but still on the hunt.


Again my father's love of hunting and him taking me afield when I was young encouraged my personal hunting journey, but I'm the only sibling where it really "took".

In the final analysis powdr I'm of the belief that it's something we're born with - but that does make sense to me really since we must have hunting, fishing and farming genes or DNA deep inside us from the years when we did it to survive.

Thanks again for your thread sir, thanks to those who've responded and still might. All the best to you all this Labour Day weekend folks.

Dwayne

Grew up in Rhode Island during the '40's and '50's. My dad was an outdoorsman, hunter and fisherman. He hunted birds and kept beagles for rabbit hunting. He'd go on an annual Vermont deer hunt with the boys, mostly drinking, but nearly always brought back a deer.

I remember fishing with him. But I taught myself to hunt small game, rabbits, partridge, squirrels, never with dogs. And I took great pride in dressing and preparing meals from the fish and game I brought in. Tanned some hides. Learned my hunting ethics from my dad and from reading Field and Stream, Sports Afield, Outdoor Life.

Hunted a couple times with neighborhood kids. But there was something magical that happened when I went into the woods, alone. It made me a whole different person whose senses were crystal clear. I'd really love to experience that feeling again.

I come from a family of urban dwellers (non hunters)but had a strong interest and curiosity about wild animals as a child,so read a great deal.I spent a lot of time in suburban woodlots chasing squirrels and pheasants with home made bows and arrows,and taught myself to fish,which I still do avidly.

But I had no hunting/shooting mentors, and no experience. (My parents encouraged the outdoor activity,but could not stop me from leaving the house in the middle of the night at 9-10 years of age to fish somewhere)....that is util my freshman college year when a friend invited me on his family's annual deer hunt over Thanksgiving in central Maine.I was not allowed to carry a gun,but helped the drivers.

As luck would have it,a big 10 point buck was killed on one of those drives and it lit a spark. I bought my first shotgun,and my first couple of CF rifles,and taught myself best I could to use them. I hunted grouse, woodcock,and other small game.Deer in New England were also hunted.

My maternal grandmother was raised on a farm in the "Old Country",and was thrilled with the squirrels, rabbits and pheasants, and grouse and was an outstanding cook in the Old World tradition. She cooked everything for me. The cycle was sort of complete.

I developed a keen interest in rifles, finished college and post grad, traveled, hunted,and shot a lot.I eventually met a solid bunch of citizens who were true rifle nuts, traveled widely to hunt BG and learned a great deal from them.The learning part never really stops when it comes to hunting and shooting.No two hunting scenarios are ever exactly the same.

And here we are...

Great photos Dwayne!!

I would add that probably the most positive influence was my "adopted" grandfather. He was the Texas state service rifle champ in 1920. He owned a sporting goods shop thru the 20's and 30's in town. And he had about a million stories to share. As well as good lessons to be learned.

I learned much from him.

My dad turned me into duck hunting fanatic when I was a young lad.



I grew up in California and started bird hunting (ducks, geese, doves, pheasants) when I nine years old. The pic was taken after a hunt on Joyce Island near Fairfield and I'll never forget that day. It was the very first day that Joyce Island was opened to hunting and it was one of the best days of duck hunting that we ever had.

Probably inherited mine from my dad; his parents were both Scottish immigrants who never had hunting opportunities growing up. My dad got his Mod. 67 Winchester around 1936 and used to provide the meat for my grandmother's rabbit stew recipe and all kinds of other small game, and woodchuck culling for the local farmers. Then about 1940 he got a brand new Iver Johnson 16 ga. Champion and began pheasant hunting. Then WWII interrupted all that; after WWII he got married and began a family and didn't really have the time or $$ to spare. But he always encouraged me to enjoy things like that, and his old 16 ga. and .22 are still in the family in my safe. As a boy scout in the early 60's my scoutmaster had been an avid deer hunter back before WWII; I can recall sitting around a campfire and us kids prodding him for some of his deer hunting tales. So I guess my DNA was just pointing me in that direction and that's where I've headed ever since.

I come from a family of pretty serious hunter's and it has been passed along to me and my cousins as well. My boys have a lot of interest in it as well, so I hope to continue to pass it on.

Mine came from my own desire to be outdoors and pursue it. No one in my family was ever much of a hunter unless it was getting rid of a pest. Same thing with Fishing. I went fishing and hunting with friends when I was a kid, and it just stayed with me. I only hunt small game and birds. Rabbit is my favorite. There's nothing like heading out with some friends and kicking up rabbits.

Got it through the jeans as they say. My dad spoke of going with his dad, my grampa, up into northern Pa. to hunt deer. They would travel to the end of the road, and hop a train into the far northeast area of Pa. not far from Lake Erie. They'd take the train as far as it went, and then the rest of the way to camp by horse drawn carts. Dad later fought his way across Africa and Europe under General Patton. After the war, him and 4 other guys pooled their meager resources, bought an acre of land in Clearfield County Pa. Purchase price was $40.00. We've occupied that land ever since. My son is the third generation of our family to hunt Boone Mountain. I owe all my hunting experience to my dad. I wish I was as good a shot as he was. Dad seldom missed a deer, and never missed twice. One of my favorite stories from when the Old Guard, as we like to call the original members of our camp were all still with us envolves a doe hunt up on the mountain. The guys had 7 doe tags, and while party hunting wasn't legal, if multiple opportunities presented themselves to a hunter, he'd do his best to put as much meat on the table as possible. Dad was carrying an old Model 94 chambered for .32 Special. A whole herd of does wandered in front of him. There were 7 less when they left. Another guy from another party came by one of our guys who was headed dad's way and said to him, "if that guy with the Winchester is with you, you'd better get over there and give him a hand-he's got dead deer laying all over the hill!"

Dwayne that picture with the coyote is a classic. It should be on the cover of Outdoor Life. Thanks for sharing that

bangeye;
Thanks much to you and smokepole for the kind words, I appreciate them.

I know it wasn't too many years after that photo that Dad had me hunting snowshoe hares - "bush rabbits" - in Saskatchewan speak.

Then it was grouse and ducks, followed by my first big game animal and the rest as they say is but history.

Funny that I still get excited about the start of hunting season enough to lose sleep over it.

Our eldest daughter and I will be heading up onto the mountains behind the house on Monday as black bear season opens then. Ah, the fall is here and the expectation that it brings!

All the best to you and the rest of my 'Fire friends this season - may we all have a safe and memorable one.

Dwayne

I went hunting with my dad a total of about 3 times. He put me down all the time and pissed me off, so I left him in the woods and went back to the car. A few years after he croaked, I sold his Winchester 94 and bought a gun I wanted. I hunt because I want to, not because of some great legacy from my dad or anyone else. I'm jealous of guys that have or had a great relationship with their father. If that describes you, cherish your dad and the relationship you have.

I started this thread because each year at this time, right before deer season, I get to thinking about my Dad. He took me squirrel hunting in the Brazos river bottom and deer hunting at a little place called Doss in the hill country here in Texas. All of this took place back in the early thru late 50's. I can honestly say my Dad was responsible for planting that seed of desire in me to be a hunter. I am thankful and feel honored by all of you that have shared your story. Some of you other guys step up to the plate and share your story. powdr

I guess that mine came from my Mothers side. My Dad did not hunt, but did like to fish. I never knew of anybody on my Dads side that like to hunt, and most of the ones on my Mothers side except for one Uncle, Her Dads Brother was a big deer hunter back in the days when deer were non existent in our area. He could not afford to belong to a camp, that hunted what is now the White River Refuge, except that He kept the camps deer dogs year around for his membership. His Wife also cooked for the deer camp. Along with the fact the my Great Grandmother, on my Mothers side is thought to be a full blooded Indian. It was not popular and not talked about much, but most that knew Her, considered it to be true. She was married in Western Arkansas where lots of Indians dropped out on the trail of tears. There was also a lot of deeded land to the Cherokee there at one time. miles

Good luck to you all Dwayne, looking forward to the photos.

Two weeks and I'll be up in the elk woods. It's cooled off here some, cool mornings and evenings, it just feels like hunting season. That feeling is another reason I think it's genetic.

Mine came from my dad's side. My grandfather was a commercial hunter and fisherman in Louisiana, along with being a carpenter, farmer, and cane syrup maker. I still have the Model 11 Remington he traded a sow pig and six gallons of cane syrup for that he used for his duck hunting.

My dad growing up around hunting kept things going for me I suppose. Both his of brothers hunted as well as one of his twin sisters. Most of my first cousins on his side still hunt.

I don't know of anyone on my mothers side who hunted or fished. They were from Pennsylvania. However, my mom could cook any wild game better than anyone I've ever known and while growing up I never knew wild game could taste bad. Another story, but she even cooked crows my dad killed and he didn't find out until later what they had for supper.

I can't remember not hunting or fishing with my dad. I killed my first deer in 1962 at the ripe old age of six, winning the KTSA radio Youngest Hunter contest. Missed a nice 8 point broadside at about 50 yards, then killed a spike facing me at about 100.

Dad always reloaded both shotgun and rifle/pistol, so that's where I picked that up. My job was to iron the shotgun shells, which led to my first reloading injury about the age of 5 when I grabbed the shotgun shell iron to see if it was hot. It was. I can still remember the smells of ironing shotgun shells, burning feathers stuck in some, the fiber wads, and wax.

I got my first bow at about age 10, and kept with it until I got my dad into archery shortly before he died.

David

What's ironing shotgun shells? powdr

Back when all shotgun shells were paper, most if not all were waxed for waterproofing. After reloading several times, or getting kicked around the truck or shell bag, the mouths would get damaged, raggedy, and out of round making them hard to reload.

The iron was a tapered aluminum rod heating element that was stepped to accept 12, 16, and 20 gauge shells. When plugged in and the iron hot, one would twist the empty shell over the iron where the heat would bring the wax out and make the paper shells like brand new.

You could get a lot more loadings out of shells using one.

Thanks Paladin. powdr

I must have gotten it from both sides. Given that my father was a die-hard poacher for hare (using a whippet with a strike dog) on the family farm during WWII. I also remember my mother swerving the family car to nail a rooster pheasant...... meat in the pot! If she could only cook..

I remember vividly waiting during Christmas break for the farm to be hunted, and I would run to be able to join the beaters on a couple of drives. If the shooting was good, we'd even get a pheasant to take home! I must have been all of 10, 11 maybe.

Shooting vermin (mostly starlings out of the orchard) was a part time occupation, and I wore out a .17 cal RWS Diana. Used to save every penny I could scrounge up to buy another tin of pellets.

When I came to Idaho, it was like going to heaven, and I went completely nuts hunting big game. Only lately have I come full circle, and am raising bird dogs and hunting birds the vast majority of time.

Still think I live in heaven, however.....

We never messed with reloading paper shell - much -.
I never heard of 'ironing' in that context.

THNX Paladin.

I "have gun & will travel" !

Pretty much what FC363 said. No one in my family hunted. Grandpa[dad's dad] fly fished the Eastern Sierra's, so I suppose I got that from him. Sort of winged it on my own being I was always outdoors doing something; Dirt bike riding, camping and the like. Sure am glad I took it up. Especially upland bird shooting. That will NEVER cease.

I come from a long line of hunters and was my dad's quail dog and rabbit and duck retriever from a very young age on our farm in southern Illinois. LOL

He never was a deer hunter and I never was much of a bird hunter but we shared many a great time together hunting and fishing.

I'm over 60 now and have been hunting since I was 7 and can't imagine life without hunting.

Yes it's in my DNA.

$bob$

Both of my grandads were hunters and one of my grandmothers would go out for deer, usually hunting in the pasture near the house. I remember tagging along with her when I was probably less than 5. My dad always headed home to the farm to hunt, I can still remember one snowy night in the 67-69 time frame, standing at the kitchen window, watching for Dad to come home from opening day. Snow drifting down, me in my PJ's, nose pressed against the window, way past my bedtime. Alas, he brought no buck home that night. We also had a basset hound and I would tag along (probably starting about age 6) with them for small game. I had some Scouting buddies that were heavily into hunting (who wasn't in northcentral Pa?) and we had some great small game hunts once we were old enough to hunt on our own.

When I was 9, we moved to the farm, and some cousins (Dad's age) had a camp out the road, I couldn't wait to for them to show up each year. One of them turned me on to reloading. Dad's 82 and looking forward to this year's deer season now that his new knee lets him walk pain free.

Dale

I don't really know. My father wasn't interested in hunting and the only grandfather I had, never spent much time with his grandchildren that I knew of, even though he hunted some. I couldn't play football because in the late 50's and early 60's they had size and age limits at some levels and I grew earlier than they liked. By the time I was old enough to play the next level, I had lost interest in football and was into bow hunting, rifles and reloading. Hunting, bows and firearms related stuff seemed a reasonable replacement for a fall activity for a teenager and it kept me out of trouble.

You're welcome guys.

My Dad's side of the family were all hunters, though I never knew some of them, but Dad started both my brother and I out with grouse hunting, and then eventually big game hunting -- deer and moose. Firearm safety was a big deal with him, as was marksmanship, and those have taken root in me.

Here's my frst moose - age 15



and a nice deer I got a few years back.



I was fortunate enough to marry a woman that enjoyed the of doors and she has been a successful hunter as well -- her cow moose and young bull moose.





My two young daughters got to liking it to.



I am also blessed to live in the middle of some great hunting and fishing.

My maternal Grandfather. My dad used to mule deer hunt but when we moved to TN he pretty much quit hunting. My grandpa (that I only know through the stories) was best friends with Bill Weaver. They both moved to El paso about the same time. There was quote a hunting community there at the time. They used to gather at my grand dads on Sunday afternoons with the rest of their buddies and grandma would cook up what ever they had killed. My mother was a young girl at the time and she played waitress for them. I have a box of old hunting pictures from them that I treasure. My mother was a late life baby. grandpa died in 1954. reflex264

My dad started taking me hunting and fishing as soon as I could carry a 22 or fishing pole. He hunted everything local and went out west every year big game hunting and several years pheasant hunting. He fished with nets, trotlines and rod and reel. He made sure I was exposed to it all growing up. He taught me to hunt fish and trap anything that swims, walks, or flys locally. He grew up in the Ozark mountains during the depression. He said if they didn't raise it, catch it or kill it. They didn't eat. Hunting and fishing is my entertainment and always has been.

My maternal grandfather hunted alot, but he never took me and really his health was too bad by the time I was old enough anyways.

My parents didn't hunt at all. I started bowhunting when I was 14 on my own basically. I used a bow because they wouldn't let me have a gun.

I grew up wanting to hunt, just had to wait until I was old enough to make my own opportunities and learn on my own.

As a kid I would have traded the next 10 Christmas mornings to be taken on a hunt.

both of my granddad's killed game year round.... one had a 1300 acre farm, and shot any deer on that property he wanted....legal or not, didn't really matter in those days....this was before I was born...

my other grandfather, sold his farm after WW 2, and opened a store, welding shop, car repair garage with gas pumps...where he lived, deer were thick, and many of the locals just took deer year round.. wasn't much law in the county to speak of, and for many people deer were subsistence.....

both owned a 30/30... had the one my GrandFather on my mom's side used that he bought in 1935.. some [bleep] stole it back in the early 1990s....I still have his Savage 24, with the 410 on the bottom and 22LR on top.. the 22 barrel is actually shot out...it accounted for a lot of squirrels and rabbits.. two game animals he preferred over venison...

Growing up as a military dependent and living overseas from age 11 to 14, I didn't get to start hunting until I was 14....then dad went overseas to Vietnam in 68, and I didn't have an opportunity to hunt again, until after College and my stint in the Army.. that was 1980...

bought me a Rem 700 in 06 in 1980 and a 444 Marlin in 1981...
still have both...biggest deer I ever shot, was with the 444 in St Louis Co MN, about 60 miles south of International Falls.. it was about 30 below the morning I shot him in 1984...field cleaned at 265 lbs, and the DNR estimated his 'on the hoof' weight about 340 to 350...last few days of the season...

we removed the saddle before we gutted him...



he was one of about 40 something deer pushed out of a swamp on a deer drive...it was cold enough they were laying down in there piled up on top of each other like snakes do...

Check out that 4 power Tasco scope on top, mounted on top of see thru mounts.. how's that for a Northern MN back woods rig...

overlook those glasses if ya don't mind... and that was back before my hair turned "blonde"...like it is now...

Hard to believe I still have that jacket, those camo'ed pants and that wool hat with the polypropylene inner lining...

My grandfather on my dad's side was the sportsman, and my dad fell right in to the thick of it post the Great Depression. My dad was born in 1933 and his dad/my grandfather supplemented their diets quite heavily with game taken, be it a deer and/or a dove/duck/goose. My dad started me at the ripe old age of 4, hunting and fishing with him and my grandfather. It seems if my dad had free time he was hunting or fishing, and my brother and I accompanied him. This was waaaaay before Texas was 95% fenced private land. We'd start out at my grandfather's back door and the hunt commenced. The Gulf of Mexico was 10 miles from my grandfather's house. We did some deep sea fishing and well as casting in the surf for speckled trout. My grandmother on my dad's side was every bit the hunter and fisher-woman that the men were. I can't remember a time growing up when we weren't either fishing or hunting, especially on the weekends.

This is a great thread... For so many of us we were started young and that's a beautiful thing. I still remember when I first wanted to go deer hunting. It was November 1955, with me 3 months away from my 6th birthday. I was standing there one evening with my dad and staring wide eyed up at the deer hanging above me in our neighbors tree. Can't even recall if it was a buck or a doe; all I remember is that it was the first deer I ever saw up close and found it fascinating. Even though it was years later before I would even hunt small game and more years later before deer hunting, I consider that cool November night to be the start of my personal hunting heritage.

My desire for hunting and the outdoors came from my grandfather (maternal side) and my best friend's family.

My grandfather was FBI for close to 30 years and an avid hunter (earlier years) and fisherman (later years). He also did lots of exhibition shooting.

Here he is in his early FBI years. He's on the right standing next to his target that qualified him for the FBI's Possible Club. Look up those requirements some time, he did it with a revolver.



As I was growing up though, my mother wouldn't even let me have a BB gun. She was against hunting and my step father didn't hunt. She blew a gasket the couple of times that she found out my grandfather had snuck me out to go shooting.

Starting in 5th grade, I began spending a lot of time at my best friends house (still my best friend to this day). That's where I saw my first Cabela's catalog. He and his older brother started taking me bird hunting when we were in JH and that hooked me.

When I turned 18 and headed to college, I moved out of my parents house and within two weeks I had a shotgun, rifle and a BB gun

That was a long time ago and I've made sure that my boys didn't have to sneak around with friends to learn about hunting.

It's something that we do as a family. It's not a time for me to hide from my family at deer camp or a time for my kids to have to learn from someone else other than me. It's that time when my boys start getting excited (me too) about heading to camp, cooking out, having conversations and time together at camp that we'll remember the rest of our lives. Don't get me wrong, we have a wonderful time together at home too, but deer camp time is special.

I'd give anything to have been able to spend time hunting with my grandfather. I did however get to spend lots of time fishing with him and those are my most treasured childhood memories.

My wife doesn't hunt, but she likes to go with us and helps me process all of our deer. She also likes to shoot and go camping.

This is my oldest boy's first deer taken about 5 years ago when he was 8:



Here's my youngest with a buck that he took a couple of years ago:

first gen

started with me


Snake

RyanTX, great story and pics! Thanks for posting. Love to see the kids with their deer. Your youngest skipped the meat buck, huh? Nice animal.

Thanks HuntnShoot. Nope, that was my youngest boy's 3rd deer. His first was a spike and second was a doe.

Now days, I feel like I'm there to guide them, ha. As soon as we hit the dirt road, they take over my truck. I cook and clean for them and they get to shoot the deer! Although, the pigs are mine to shoot, ha.

Rhyan I can tell it's cedar country but where exactly were those deer killed? powdr

About 20 miles east of Snyder, TX.

My father fished and did a little bird hunting. We never hunted big game. I got a .22 from my Dad when I was in Kindergarten. We lived in a small eastern Colorado town and I spent a lot of time shooting "stuff" like cans and jackrabbits.

I started out bird hunting seriously in my early twenties and it expanded into big game a couple of years later. My son went with me for a few years but he doesn't hunt anymore.

My hunting heritage started in North Central Missouri when I was young. A single shot bolt 22, and cottontails, tree squirrels, bull frogs, and snakes, kept me plenty busy trying to earn money for 22 shells of any fashion.

Both my parent's families were hunters and fishermen but my dad (RIP) was an athlete and a soldier without any interest in either. He did teach me to shoot and be safe with firearms. Being an Army Brat we moved a lot and I only met my relatives briefly a few of times in my life so it didn't come from them. I have two brothers and neither is a hunter. Always read everything I could find about Davy Crockett, Daniel Boone, mountain men, Kilimanjaro Bill and the rest and day dreamed about hunting. You old guys (my age) will remember the old Sears and Robucks catalog. As a boy I would sit with it for hours and make lists of everything I'd need to order for that next African safari, tiger hunt in India or hunting and trapping expedition into the Yukon. I am still teaching myself to hunt and, to a lessor degree, fish. I have had some decent success but still a lot to learn at almost 60 years of age. My biggest success so far was archery season of 2009 when I killed a 7x8 public land bull elk. I hope take my last breath in the high country with my boots on and my rifle in my hand.

I think I would say that my heritage is mostly self fueld but influenced by many trips as a kid in the mid 70's to Warren, PA just north of the Allegany. My Fathers uncle was a forester up there and we would drive up to spend a week during deer season. As I grew a bit older, it was this experience that spurred my interest in big woods deer hunting. My uncle always had great stories to tell about the woods, his experiences and the deer he shot.

He also had a very nice pre 64 win in 30/06 that my cousin inherited and kept in closet... I tried to get that one but it never worked out...

I'm pretty much a product of my "envyronment" My Dad was convinced by his buddies to start hunting when I was a very small boy and he was in his early 40's. They were a bunch of farmers & rural labourers who had heard about the fantastic moose hunting available in the Cumberland House marshes of NE Saskatchewan when the "new" Squaw Rapids dam was built on the Saskatchewan River in the early 1960's. My 10 yrs older brother got to join in soon enough, but I had much more than ten years to wait to hunt moose with Dad. Nothing in the world could possibly seem as exotic and desirable as my Dad's hunting stories about Cumberland House, and the truckloads!! of moose that they brought out were truly amazing to my young eyes. I would pet and covet Dad's sporterized .303 SMLE any chance that I was allowed to.
My maternal Grandpa would come out each October from his new home in Edmonton to hunt ducks at our farm. I was his retriever. We'd drive the back roads in his Caddilac and jump shoot teals ( me wearing a huge pair of waders the whole time) , or wait at the edge of a barley field and shoot mallards. The skies were dark with ducks.
My first really good toy was a double barrel "shotgun" dart gun ordered from the T. Eaton Co's Christmas catalogue. It had had a wind up Mallard as a target. I bought my first Daisy BB gun at 9 yrs, with $2 that I earned myself on our farm, and got an impressively powerful .177 pellet rifle the next year. My younger brother and I were hell on english sparrows, mice, rats and ground squirrels on the farm after that. At 10 years of age, I figured I was ready for the big leagues and longed to graduate to duck shooter instead of dog. I bought my first .22 at 12, and got the chance to hunt ducks at 12, using my Dad's 12 ga Ithaca pump, and to hunt whitetail deer at 14, using my Brother's .303. Have been hooked ever since.

Growing up where and when I grew up, I didn't know anyone who didn't hunt. And I guess my family being in the rural south since about 1700, they always hunted. From the time I was seven or eight years old, I had a BB gun in my hand every single day terrorizing all the local birds. My dad had been a big hunter, but by the time I got big enough, he worked too much and had sort of lost interest. Of course, he took me enough to get me started and by the time I was 11 or 12, I was out after squirrels practically every day by myself.

There is something to the genetics thing though. My grandfather on my mother's side was a big dog guy. He always had dogs running "wolves" as they called them and my uncle loves to run dogs on deer. My brother has told me about going out on countless nights with Papaw as a little kid and sitting with Papaw and his buddies while they drank a little and listened to the dogs. Well, my mom's maiden name comes from a Norman French word that means, literally, "Keeper of the Hounds". Somewhere back in time, one of my ancestors was a hound keeper and that love of the dogs has made it all the way through to the present day.

My Grandpa lit a fire in me for the outdoors that is currently being passed on to my kids. Thanks Grandpa!!!!!!!!!

I grew up hunting and fishing.

My family migrated to California in the mid-to-late 1800s, settling near San Francisco. My great grandfather was a watch-smith, fisherman, hunter, fireman, and cycling enthusiast. He was a part-time market hunter for waterfowl as well. They hunted and fished for the meat, which was a major source of their protein especially in lean times such as after they lost their home in the '06 earthquake and fire and moved back toward Santa Cruz to start over.

This photo of my great grandparents and their kids is from about 1890. You can see a few fishing poles and creel on the left front corner of the tent. I think the location is south of Monterrey in what is now Los Padres Nat'l Forest. They were living in that area at the time. My grandfather wouldn't arrive until 1902.


I think this photo is from about 1910. My grandfather (on the left) is holding a 16ga single shot he was given when he was 5. He used it to great effect. That gun now lives in my safe, along with the Model 71 and A5 he bought in the 1930s that were his main guns for the rest of his life. He was the best shot I've ever known, and a terrific story-teller as well. He was 67 when I was born, so I didn't get to be with him in his prime, but I was there when he used the .348 to kill his last deer in 1978. He neck-shot a running buck at about 70 yards after complaining all day about how he couldn't see anymore. He liked neck shots with the .348 because, he said, they didn't waste any meat.

My family has always liked well-appointed camps. All the family photos are of horse-and-buggy or car camps. My dad was a teacher, so we had many 3 and 4 week long camping/hunting/fishing trips as a kid. I'm the only backpacker.

I think I got the bug for backpacking from the writings of John Muir, whose home was in the town where I grew up. I was fascinated by how far he could travel carrying almost nothing. And the stories of the Sierras and Alaska captured my mind. So when I turned 16, I started backpacking and fell in love with it. Later, as the numbers of my hunting partners dwindled, I realized that I could hunt out of a backpack as well.

My son is now 5 and he's been camping in the style of my family - lots of gear, spacious tents or popup trailers, etc. We started 'practicing' backpacking this summer and next summer we'll take some trips. He loves the outdoors, fishing and hunting, so I think there is a good chance the traditions will carry on in my family.

Cool pics Htr3!

I'm a 1st gen, started later in life... in 2012! I wish I had started a whole lot earlier but I'm loving it and am thankful for my freedom and opportunity to hunt. I hope to pass on the tradition to my son and daughter.

Eric

Htr3

Thank you very much for posting those photos! I have a thing for vintage hunting photos! Very nice!!!

Bob

Here is the earliest record I have of a hunting/ military ancestor:

Captain Jared Robinson served in the military 1755 to 1759 in French and Indian War as Private then as Corporal. He served in the military 1775 to 1779 in Revolutionary War as officer - 1st Lieut, 2nd Lieut, made Captain in 1779. He was a government trapper following his time in the military.

My parents grew up in the Arkansas Ozarks where deer were very scarce in the 30s and 40s. My dad always had a bird dog when I was a kid. My granddad had coon hounds and squirrel dogs. My two brothers and I grew up fishing and small game hunting starting with bb guns. I had bird dogs and hunted quail and pheasant here in Missouri until the bird population made it not worth it. There are plenty of deer here though, so I'm having a blast reloading for the wife and myself. We hunt here and go on an occasional elk hunt out west too.

This is an awesome thread!
My hunting heritage comes from nearly every area of my ancestry as well as upbringing. Being American Indian and raised on reservations I never knew a time when I wasnt exposed to hunting regularly. Al the non Indian family members are or were hunters too. Matter of fact my moms father was of Irish blood and he became a heck of a hunter and well known fisherman after getting out of the Navy and marrying my gram and moving here. I have his Remington 721 270!

It was my dad who taught me how to hunt and fish and be a woodsman and horseman. He also instilled in me the value of good hunting dogs and the idea of reloading -he had not gotten around to doing it yet but it was always the plan. I had my first 22 at age 6, was hunting small game with bb guns, that Chipmunk 22 and a Westernfield .410 and killed my first deer at 10 and have been hunting and fishing all my life. The tradition continues on as my nephews are learning as well.

Growing up a subsistence hunter on the reservation, northern california, and always being ready to take advantage of an opportunity I learned early on that shot placement is everything but still a properly designed round for the task can sure help, and magnums are not necessary for anything I do.