Tribute to hunters who have Gone On

[huntinsonovagun]

Post pics and short stories of friends/relatives who have Gone On to the Great Hunt, doing what they loved. You are not forgotten.

[NS whitetail]

Re: Tribute to hunters who have Gone On

this is my Grandfather. He passed away on July 28/01.

I would say that this pic is from the 40's.

He is very much missed and will never be forgotten.

[MUDRUNNER]

Re: Tribute to hunters who have Gone On

I'LL NEVER FORGET THE FIRST TIME MY DAD TOOK ME BOWHUNTING.I WAS 15 AND HE LET ME HAVE THE "HONEY HOLE",WHILE HE WENT TO A DIFFERENT SPOT.I HAD 2 DOES COME ABOUT 15 YARDS,BUT WHEN I WENT TO PULL BACK THEY SAW ME AND TOOK OFF.THE OLD MAN WAS WATCHING FROM A DISTANCE AND HE SAID MY EYES WERE AS BIG AS BASEBALLS WHEN I SAW THE DEER.I DIDNT EVEN KNOW HE WAS WATCHING ME.HE SAID HE COULD SEE MY ARROW SHAKING I WAS SO NERVOUS.IVE BEEN HOOKED FROM THAT MOMENT ON.ID GIVE ANYTHING FOR ONE MORE HUNT WITH HIM.HE TALKED ABOUT THAT EVERYTIME WE WENT OUT,WITCH WAS NOT ENOUGH.

[HuntingInMaine]

Re: Tribute to hunters who have Gone On

I don’t personally know any hunters who have passed, but I did read a very touching story published in the October 2004 edition of “American Hunter”. It is a little long, but worth the time reading!

Me and This Old Dog

by: Andrew j. Scharr Quitman, Louisiana

The woman was in the kitchen fixing supper. She heard the vehicle pull up outside and the man, her husband, arrived home. “Better check on your dad, he left in his old truck this morning with that old dog and his old rifle,” she said.

The man asked, “How’d he start the truck?” He knew the battery was down and it hadn’t been run since the doctor made him quit driving. He wondered how the old dog got up in the truck when he couldn’t get up the porch steps to eat his food without help. The old man must have gone to his old hunting spot in the swamp, he concluded.

“I told him to wait until I got home and I’d go with him,” the man said to his wife. “I’ll drive out there and make sure he’s OK.”

The man drove the several miles to the swamp, talking to himself all the way, “Don’t that beat all. That old man can’t see well enough to drive. What are we going to do if he keeps running off?”

The man reached the end of the swamp road. Sure enough, there was the old truck.

“Where’s Dad and that dog? Surely they didn’t try to walk the trail across the beaver dam to the island. That’s a tough walk even for a young man.”

At that same moment an old swamp buck slipped across the small island. The buck came to a cautious stop at the same place where the old man caught another buck dead-to-rights a year ago, and the year before that… . The huge buck looked between the splayed roots of the aged swamp oak and, sure enough, the old man was there; but he didn’t raise the big single-shot that has accounted for so many of the buck’s ancestors in previous years. The buck’s sixth sense detected no danger from the old man or from the huge dog lying at his feet. Hearing a faint noise from the direction of the beaver dam, the old buck faded away like a ghost in the dim swamp.

The man made it across the beaver dam, wet to the knees in swamp water and black muck. He saw the old man in his favorite spot at the foot of the huge oak.

“Dad,” he called. No answer. He only heard a low growl from the dog. The dog had been his dad’s constant companion ever since he found the week-old pup, many years ago, abandoned with no hope of reaching food or water, by some thoughtless person. That was the only time in the man’s life he had heard his dad use profanity.

“Dad,” the man called. The dog growled again. The dog knew the old man was gone, but he had left his things here at the base of this tree, so the dog would stay here and guard them until he returned. The big “buff” rifle, the familiar old clothes, and the worn-out frame of a body the old man had occupied were here, so the dog would stay, period.

“Dad,” the old man called, but he knew his best friend was gone. “Come on old dog. Let’s go get some help, “he said, and turned back toward the beaver dam. But the dog wouldn’t move. The man took a few more steps then fell to his knees. For several minutes great sobs convulsed his slumped shoulders. After a long while he raised his hands towards heaven and said, “Lord, I know Dad is happier now than at any time since Mom died….but me and this old dog…. .”