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

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.

$bob$