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.


Founder
Ancient Order of the 1895 Winchester

"Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
And yet it irks me the poor dappled fools,
Being native burghers of this desert city,
Should in their own confines with forked heads
Have their round haunches gored."

WS