List a great hunting memory

Seems like forum is kind of slow here lately so I thought I'd try and start a topic that might generate some interesting reading! Think about a memory from a hunting trip that pops into your head year after year, I'll lead off.
I was Elk hunting in the early 1980's North of Creede Colorado in unit 76. This was before the point system required that you have a lifetime of points to hunt 76. My buddy and I were camped above timberline on the south face of Baldy Cinco which is currently about the northern limit of 76. It was cold for September and the bulls were really screaming at each other. The memory that jumps into my head time and time again is of both us laying awake all night unable to sleep because of the seemingly never ending sound of the bulls talking trash to each other literally all night. They would bugle,chuckle and scream at one another until all you could hear were horns clashing and the sound of rocks flying and brush breaking. The cows were mewing all night as well and several times they were so close that we stuck our heads out the tent and the full moon was so bright you could almost count the points on the bulls. I killed a nice 6x6 as did my buddy. Great memories, Baker

Great story, and good idea Baker.

Here's mine, what I call the "2nd Chance Bull".

New Mexico, Unit 5a, November 2012. I was hunting some familiar ground, looking for a good bull on a DIY hunt. It had been a fun trip so far, seeing elk every day. But so far, all I'd seen were cows and young bulls. Late on the afternoon of the 3rd day I decided to go scout an area I hadn't hunted yet. Rounding a bend, I found a little tank that still held water in it when nearly the entire rest of the country was dry. Walking further, I found a trail leading up to a protected little valley meadow full of good grass. The trail between the two was like a highway, and lo and behold there were fresh bull tracks on it. I backed out and made a plan for the next morning.

By that time of year the bulls don't stay in the open much after daylight. Therefore, the very first crack of legal light found me slowly stalking that trail. There were two cows at the tank, a good sign. As I moved on toward the meadow my senses were fully alive, trying to catch sound or sight of a bull before he saw me. As often happens, it didn't work out that way. I rounded the bend into the meadow, and in a split second I saw a big, mature bull and he saw me. He did not stand around to look, but trotted off into the timber. Cursing myself for moving too fast and being an idiot, I dropped to one knee, backed into the brush, and hit my cow call. Within 30 seconds I was shocked to see two bulls pop out on top of a high ridge about 210 yards away. The first bull kept going, but the second paused a second to look over the valley and find this lost cow. That was all I needed. I already had the rifle up and my scope on the bull. I did my best to control my breathing and my racing heart. Then, with the rising sun back-lighting the bull in an amazing scene, I touched off the .338 Win Mag. The bull dropped in his tracks, right there on top of the ridge. He would turn out to be the 6x6 in my sig line below, my best elk yet, my 2nd Chance bull.

Mine is the last hunt I did with my Dad that I did a thread about on here.

An 8pt buck I shot my second year hunting. I lost my first deer due to poor shot placement, found blood look for a while and never found him(other hunters saw him later in the season). I wont blame it all on the gun because I was pretty excited, but after taking it to the range it was off by both my shooting and dads shooting and at that point the old 30 carbine was retired from hunting. Fast forward to the next season I was with dad and shot an 8pt buck at about 70 yards with dads Rem 700 mtn rifle in 280. Shot felt good was behind the shoulder, deer took off fell down after about ten yards got right back up and into some really thick brush. We waited a bit and climbed down.

We didn't find any blood at all no hair or anything. Started looking along the trails and couldn't find anything, me and dad split up, after a bit I stumbled on an old dear skeleton and it gave me doubts I was pretty upset and thought I had lost another deer... then I herd dad yell my name and I came running. Dad found him about 25 yards from where I shot him crawled up way under a big cedar tree. Mind you the brush was so thick on this place you couldn't walk through most of it, think crawling. Only blood we found was one spot underneath the deer where we found him. Was one of my happiest hunting memories.

I enjoyed following yal and no sho.

I still love sitting with my brother and dad, need to do it more often!

11. No jokes of a sexual nature – just don’t post them. We know some are funny, but there are children that browse our forum and we want to set a positive example.

First warning.

2012 duck season, my Dad came down to visit and we had a 3 generation duck hunt. Don't know how many more of those I will have.

I have a few but the ones that always seem to pop in my head is my first kill.. a doe...just me and my dad in camp that weekend, I remember the little talk he gave me that morning telling me he didn't care if I shot something or not, he was just having fun being in the woods with me and it was up to me if I wanted to shoot or not...I was 7...then the other is of me taking my best friend deer hunting and him getting his first deer ever....how he was afraid to clean it after wards....so much fun, ive never laughed so hard....He passed away almost 13 years ago now...

x2

All hunts are great to me and I can't think of one that stands out above the rest (I'm sure there is one)

But as a kid we had a small private lake we went to, I used to get to take the 22 and walk around the lake shooting bull frogs. When I got a minna bucket full we'd fry up a mess of fish and frog legs! That was the good ole day for me !!!

This past hunting season, Thanksgiving Weekend.

Have a buddy who has about 1000 acres in East Texas, the place has some really good bucks, so me and my dad were stoked to get out there during their rut. Only problem was my mom's birthday is Nov 30th, and my dad said he would have to stay back. My mom had never shot a deer, So of course I asked my mom if she would go hunting with me and she could shoot a doe if we were given the opportunity.

The first morning me and my mom set up in a ground blind of a big grazing pasture and a recently cut pipeline. Had a few doe cross the pipeline early, but my mom wasnt able to find them in her scope. She was super upset with herself, so I suggested we get out and see if we cant spot some deer on the other side of the pasture across the rise. We had already agreed that if we saw a buck I'd shoot, and a doe my mom would shoot.

Soon as we came over the rise, there was a wide 8 point about 200 yds out. Long story short, he should be back from the taxi in the next month or so.

That afternoon, we headed out to another pasture to get her that doe. Didnt see any deer, but right at dusk, a group of about 20 pigs came out of the opposite side and started feeding. Crept up with in about 200 yards, laid down on our bellies, and did a '1,2,3 Shoot.' We both dropped ours, and I was able to get 2 more on the run.

The next morning, my mom finally got her doe. Needless to say she was hooked, and I had found my new huntin buddy/lucky charm. Some of the best hunting memories I've ever had were made that weekend...

Great stories folks, thanks for playing! Hunting has always had a special place in my heart. I started hunting on the Middle Concho river east of San Angelo where I grew up. I'm not sure how old I was but I was in the 8/9 range.

Keep em coming!

Squirrel hunting with my dad when I was youngin. Couldnt sit still for more than 5 minutes, freezing my butt off and hated shooting that single shot shotgun, but I loved walking the woods with him just hanging out and learning things. We would always have the squirrels we killed for dinner at camp. We had a spot up around Pat Mayse lake, that was years ago. Since then, weve hunted all over Texas together and even in Colorado in a couple feet of snow, but those memories of just being with my dad camping and shooting tree rats is some of the best memories I have.

Christmas Day 1974. My brother Eric and I had both asked for shot guns hoping that 11 and 12 was finally old enough to have guns of our own… and Santa didn't disappoint. We both unwrapped 20 gauge single shots and a box of shells. We immediately begged dad to take us to the pasture to shoot, and he obliged. He created his own version of a moving target by putting cardboard into an old tire, and rolling in down an incline at different yardages and speeds. His thoughts were it would be a good way to teach us how to lead a running rabbit, which was our most likely quarry.

After we both got pretty consistent knocking down the tire, and one more safety lecture on firearms, Dad cut us loose all on our own to walk through grandpa’s back section in search of pesky jack rabbits. But on the way we decided to swing by the stock tank to see if any ducks were home. From a distance we spied ripples on the water and put an “Indian sneak” on the tank. As we were approaching I told my brother to take the first duck to jump, and I’d take the 2nd. The plan came off to perfection when a hen and drake mallard took off. Both ducks folded and fell within feet of each other. At that point two hunters were born, and we've been bagging game together ever since.

So many great memories. Fifties, Sixties and seventies hunting with my Dad and little brother, late seventies, eighties, and nineties, hunting with my two sons and daughter. In the nineties my wife took over the shooting and got excited about hunting and still does today. Ten grandkids now and the oldest is 9 so I've got lots of fun times left. Don't get no better.

One of my greatest hunting memories happend in October 1993 in Fairfield Texas. I was sitting in my Dads rifle stand just to watch what would show up and he was in his bow stand just inside the woods with his bow. Right off the bat I had a black hog come through and then a few Does showed up at the far end of the wood line. I was watching them through the binos when all the sudden I catch a glimpse of a GIANT buck like nothing I had ever seen come running across the opening towards the Does. I knew I didn't have time to count the points before he would be inside the woods after the Does so I just watched in awe as he disappeared into the woods. At the time I guess I was probably 13 years old or so and I knew nobody was going to believe I just saw a 20ish point B&C when I got back to camp and told the story but as it turned out the story wouldn't be needed because we would be bringing the real thing back with us that night.

To make a real long story short, about 20 minutes after I saw that buck my Dad put a arrow in him and the buck took off. He waited until dark to come get me and told me he thinks he shot a 16 point. That's when I told him what I saw and I thought he was closer to 20 points. While my Dad picked up the blood trail I went and got the help of another guy that hunted not to far away and sure enough he didn't believe the story I had to tell. By the time I got back to where all the action was my Dad had already recovered the buck.

The buck ended up having 18 scorable points, a 24.5" inside spread, just under 7" bases, and field dressed a whopping 175 pounds. The official score was either 176" or 178" (I cant remember) and was his first bow kill ever. At the meat locker the owner of the place had to weigh the buck twice because he wanted to make sure something wasn't wrong with his scale.

Word about a buck that big spread pretty quick back in those days and by the time we got home Ray Sasser from the Dallas Morning News had called and wanted to do a story on the buck. The buck did end up in the DMN and also the Fairfield paper as well.

I have lots of great memories but that one tops them all.

I guess I was around 16 or 17 and I killed a mediocre buck on the side of a ridge right before dark. My dad came in his '66 Bronco and before I could stop him, he tried to shortcut across an elm bottom creek and sunk it up to the hubs. (This is back when hill country creeks flowed on a regular basis.) We cut big-mully grass, per his instructions, and stuck it under the tires to no avail, but it did get us good and messy. Then we hiked to the landowner's house and knocked on the door. His girlfriend answered. I can still see her, maybe 4 or 5 years older than me, the kitchen back light showing she'd decided to curtail the use of undergarments. My dad told me to go call my mom and tell her we'd be late. Rotary dial phone dial was so busted up you had to use a spent rifle cartridge laying beside it to dial the phone. I was just anxious to get back in the kitchen. Landowner drove us back out in the dark, hooked up, cranked the engine and jerked us out of the hole. I think Dad and I almost forgot to pick up the buck before we left for home.

Mine is the Friday the 13th Doe:

Arrowed a doe at about 4:15pm on Friday, December the 13th, 2013. I could tell from the way she walked off that something was not right. Turns out the arrow deflected off of a branch and she was gut shot. The temperature at the time that I hit her was -10 and with clear calm weather was dropping fast as the sun began to set.

I walked in circles for an hour to stay warm and than began to track (snow made this easier than normal). I spotted her laying down with her head up about 400 yards from my stand. Fortunately she did not spot me so I backed off and waited. I checked on her every 30-40 minutes to see if her head was down and walked in circles in the interim to stay warm. By 8:30 pm the temperature had dropped to -19 and she still had her head up. To top it off the wolves were howling about a 1/2 mile away so I did not dare leave her for the night or I knew there would be nothing in the morning.

I did not have a gun with me for a mercy shot and could not get close enough with the bow to finish her so I decided to continue the vigil. Finally at 9:00 pm she started to intermittently put her head down. At 9:15 pm she put it down and it stayed down. At 9:30 pm I approached and poked her with a stick - no response, finally.

I loaded her into the toboggan and began the 1 mile snowshoe back to my truck. Arrived at my truck at 10:15 pm. Temperature was now -21. I loaded her up and was home at midnight where I field dressed her on a tarp in the garage.



She was not a trophy and was not even that big, but looking back, out the all the deer I taken, she was the most memorable.

15 and killed a doe with my bow-spot and stalk. This was in '79 or '80 back when very few bowhunted, especially in east TX. The men couldn't believe it (I was the first and only bowhunter they had seen and they kind of thought it was silly). My Dad actually tracked and found the deer, he and the other men cut a pole to haul her out, and I was a hero around the campfire that night.

It won't get any better than that on any animal I ever kill.

me and my buddy were spot and stalk hunting for pigs....we had been out a day or two before and had two misses at 30 yards, was kind of a bummer. we drove to a ridge where we thought there would be pigs at and sure enough, they were feeding in a meadow below.

we stalked within about 60-70 yards of the group and let them close the remaining distance. it was his shot, there were a few pigs around 30 yards and a snow white pig a little further. he told me to shoot the white one, we ranged it at 42 yards, I drew back and let one fly. arrow blew thru the sow and it took off in a dead run, and when I saw it fall about 100 yards away I was on cloud nine!

I was so excited I wanted to do a war whoop, but the other pigs never noticed that one of the herd was missing, and my buddy drilled one at about 25 yards thru both shoulders, it ran 15-20 yards and keeled over.

One of the most exciting and fun hunts I've ever had

I was sitting in a coffee shop, just having a cup to pass the time........



It was a lovely Thursday morning in Gunnison, Colorado and a very warm 2 degrees at 8K', there was snow accumulated up around the 8800K'+ range and there was a nice muley buck hanging around a group of does. After deciding it was going to be cutting it close to a 30" wide buck we decided on a 2 to 1 vote that my wife was shooting that deer for her first ever muley. We closed the distance to 378yds and she took rest on a sage bush and I told her to just put the crosshairs behind the shoulder where she wanted to hit. One shot rang out and deer bolted from the scene of the crime. Buck didn't make it far and lost sight of him in the patch of quakies. She was pumped, I was pumped. Got to the deer and then the caping, photos and packing off the side of the mountain started. By the time it was done it was around 12 and I'd called ahead to a cpl guys and had them bring up hamburgers out to that top secret location. We ate and then it was my turn to look for a deer and we spent the remainder of the day looking for me a deer while the other guys headed back up to the high country after elk. Get in after dark, take a shower (put on my sparkly jeans) and make plans to meet someone at the local steakhouse and as I'm walking out the door the phone rings (it's about 8:30 by this time) and one of the elk hunters has hit cell service range just outside of town and informed me they had 4 bulls down above timber line and needed to know what to do. Me not wanting to waste the next day assisting with the effort to not interfere with my deer tag decided to round folks up and go get it done that night. Was almost 11 by the time we made it there and decided to take a jeep up the snow packed rd to get there (pucker factor x 2 with a 1000' drop off and just a few bushes acting as buffer on the switchbacks). By the time we got all the bulls gutted, bigger ones split and carried to the rangers it was after 3am, then coming back down the mountain in the jeep (pucker x100000 this time) was tired and had John Anderson blaring to stay away, we was Swingin'". Arrived in Gunnison city limits just before 5am. Quick shower and 10 minute nap and it was time to go look for a deer. It was an exhausting day, but man, was it fun!

Great stories guy's

Nothing better than good deer stories in the off season

Like most of ya'll, I have some great memories and great hunts, would be dang near impossible to narrow down a favorite or "most memorable", but I had one this year that will stay with me.

My older sister grew up going to the lease, but never showed any interest in shooting. We finally convinced her to try dove hunting and she was hooked. She started going to the lease more and more and would go sit in my rifle blind while I was bow hunting. Sometimes, I would sit down the bow just to sit with her for the hunt.

After about two years of doing that, she finally told me on Christmas that she wanted to shoot a deer. I was stoked. Typically, it isn't difficult on our place to find a cull or doe, so I didn't think it would be an issue. I told her that the next weekend, I would set aside buck hunting to get her a deer. Turned out, finding a good cull or doe was harder than I expected.

We left on a Thursday and hunted hard. We found plenty of deer driving around safari style, but with her being a new hunter, I wanted her first to be a good clean kill and wasn't sure how she would do. She was adamant that this was going to be one shot and done deal, so we stuck to the stands.

Though we saw plenty of deer and got to spend some quality time together, we couldn't close the deal. Sunday morning was going to be the last hunt and getting her to get moving for that hunt took some energy. Finally got her out and into the stand. Day light broke and there wasn't a deer in sight. She went to sleep and I don't think I have looked for movement that hard in my life. At around 9, I was about to give up and had been packing the pack back. I looked up and a lone doe was directly under the feeder. I woke her up and got the gun out the window. I went through the pre-shooting routine we had practiced on the range and told her to fire when she was ready. Didn't take her long to find her spot and squeeze one off. Perfect hit and the deer dropped. There was plenty of excitement and celebrating. Sharing that experience with her was simply awesome!!!

One of my favorite trips was taking my nephew for his 1sy deer. I bought him a .270 and he got it dialed in, took him to our lease at the time that we shared with 12 other hunters (12,000 acres). While in camp, the other hunters found out that my nephew had lost 1uncle and one aunt, leaving me the "soul" member outside of his mom and dad and the only one in our family that hunts.

I took him out that morning to try and get him on a cull with my last "tag". My hunting spot was pretty quite since the ranch hands where working on a windmill. Got back to camp and everyone was there, it didn't take long and 12 guys I hunted with, quit what they where doing and all went to locate a buck. 30 minutes later the radio went crazy.

One group spotted a young buck in a small pocket of trees surrounded by 50 acres of open ground, by the time I got there with my nephew, every other hunter in camp had that poor buck "surrounded" LOL. took about another 30 minutes to get him in a spot to take that buck without endangering the hunters on the perimeter. It was a sure trophy for him and the whole camp spent the rest of the afternoon celebrating and processing the deer.

My nephew has now got into bow hunting as well as rifle since that trip. The guy's at the lease took time out of their last weekend, just to help a young fella out, great bunch of guys that made a huge impact on a young man.

They where not going to let that small buck leave those small trees LOL and we even took a quick vote to allow him to take it ( lease rules where 8pnt or bigger), I didn't vote, they went 12-0. He was so proud you'd have thought it was a book deer.

Man I love these stories, they remind me of why I love to hunt. It's like going along on every hunt. Well done guys, keep em coming!!!

Here is one that I posted years ago:
A South Texas Quail Hunt

It was February in deep South Texas. On what started as a cool, somewhat drizzly morning, I was walking behind two pointers covering the ground ahead of a truckload of relief dogs and clients. We were hunting the brush lines along senderos which crisscross a large pasture located maybe 20 miles north of what is known as the Lower Rio Grande Valley, and we were finding birds.

PeeWee, a White/Liver altered male pointer, in particular was having a big morning. He was finding coveys on a regular basis, and seemed to be pacing himself well as he worked back and forth. His ole scorpion-like tail would snap back into what could be construed as a passable pointer's tail, and the tip would begin to quiver just like that of a rattlesnake as he would slam on the brakes and lock up. After the covey rise, if we worked the singles, all that pacing went out the window. PeeWee kicked in the afterburner as he zigzagged back and forth hunting up the singles. He knew they were there, and he was finding them. Even the clients were egging him on... "Get 'em PeeWee! Get 'em boy!"

Everything was going as perfectly as can be reasonably hoped for.

While utilizing a labrador to find a crippled bird, I lost contact with PeeWee. I unsheathed my trusty Tracker, and began searching for a signal...I picked up a strong return which seemed to be coming from the direction of a small mesquite mott. Sure enough, I could make out PeeWee hard against a large clump of tall grass and weeds at the edge of the mott. He was locked up tight, eyes bulging, tail quivering. PeeWee’s nose was just touching the grass. I raised my orange hunting cap, signaling the truck that we had a point. As the hunters eased forward, I positioned them to the left and right of the mott. I cautioned them to be ready. I would walk straight in and flush the birds.

I carefully approached the grass, and just began to move my foot to kick the clump... a huge, toothy maw emitting a particularly unnerving guttural hiss burst into existence where only the targeted grass had stood a millisecond before. PeeWee yelped, I yelled (some witnesses alleged that I screamed like a woman...but that's just not so!) and the three of us, man, dog, and hog all scrambled to move out of harm’s way in three different directions. I was convinced ole Pee had donated his nose to the hog, until I caught up with him and checked him for cuts. It seemed that only our collective prides had suffered....At that point, my greatest concern was that the hunters would injure themselves as they held their sides and slapped their knees, while hooting at our brand of brush country comedy.

It was a great day. It was an incredible morning.

Note: Years later, I still have PeeWee. I still am both cussing and praising him alternately.

One more:

Youngest daughter decided she wanted to go deer hunting for the first time at 14. Some basic shooting lessons and we were ready. Got to the place one afternoon at about 4:30. Too late to do much but go sit in the blind closest to the house. We settled in and I began to think about a little snooze. Was dozing about 10 minutes and she tapped me. "Dad, are those big enough?" Two nice bucks had come into the food plot. "Uh, yes honey, which one is bigger?" She pointed him out correctly and I told her to forget about everything but putting the crosshairs steady on his shoulder and squeezing the trigger. "BAM!!" Deer took a few steps and looked our way. Told her she missed and to put another one in the rifle and take her time. "BAM!!" Deer looked our way and started slowly walking out of the field. I said "You missed him honey, let's try again."

About that time the buck starts wobbling and falls over. I have never been more excited in my life. She was beside herself with joy. A memory that will never be forgotten by either of us.



Here she is today:

My best memory was a hunt in Llano Texas with my father. After a few years of frustration for him of coming home empty handed he connected with a nice deer. He had parkinson's disease and had trouble shooting. He also had hip replacement surgery and needed a walker to steady himself. I can remember telling him to just shoot we have plenty of ammo so just keep shooting. I think it was the third day of a five day hunt about 11:00 a.m. I drove past my brother and he was not ready to leave his stand and dad was just down the road from him. My brother said he heard 5 or 6 shots. As I drove up to the ground blind he was standing outside of the blind, with his walker and as I asked if he had done any good he responded that he had shot a wall hanger. When I asked him where the deer was he pointed out into the mesquite and said there is a nice 12 pointer about a hundred yards out. When I asked him if he was sure it was a 12 pointer he informed me he had already walked out and saw it up close. Now this is a man that needed help walking across pavement to get into the truck. I had to question to myself about that one. As we drove across the mesquite field it was the slowest drive because of the terrain and I was really skeptical of what he had told me about walking out and seeing this deer. When we got closer and I saw the deer I was no longer skeptical. Sure enough he had shot the best deer of his life. beautiful 12 pointer. It just made the Texas B&C but it gave him the bragging rights that a man from Florida deserved. When the land owner asked him if he knew what a nice deer it was he just said (It had horns).

My Dad and best friend past away last month at the age of 86. I know he is in heaven asking the lord when are we going hunting.

Most of my favorite memories of hunting are not with me hunting but with me guiding. With guiding and you put a hunter on an animal it is like you are the one with the rifle. You know you could have taken the shot. A lot of the favorites were not even book type animals. I remember one hunter I had that was part of a company furnished hunt for WT. Very nice gentleman who had never hunted or even fired a rifle before. Bought a model 94 Winchester 30-30 and a couple of boxes of shells. We sighed it in with the open sighs. that afternoon we went out hunting. Found a small 8 point after a doe. Got down in a dry creek and got to within 30 yds. of him. he used the creek bank as a rest and shot. Missed but the buck stayed where he was. Unloaded the rifle at the buck without hitting it. He asked what he should do. I asked do you have any more shells on you pockets? He said yes so I said put another one in the gun. He did and to my surprise the buck never ran off and he killed it with the next shot. You would have thought that was the biggest WT in the world taking pictures and him telling his buddies about it. That happened over 30 years ago and I still remember it like yesterday.

That's a great story.

http://i1116.photobucket.com/albums/k575/ranchdawg1/012114IFONE2930_zpsa6e5c674.jpg

Took my grandson Dillon deer hunting again this past weekend hoping to get his first deer. We had talked about what we would do if a large hog came out. He said if a "monster hawg" comes out, we would both shoot it together at the same time on the count of 3. We had practiced our count on the way driving down to the ranch and even when we got into the blind. We were ready. ( LOL ). We got into the blind at 3:00 pm and after getting settled in he says hes gonna take a short nap. Well at 5 :00 this monster hawg comes out and is making his way to the feeder which is 70 yards in front of the blind. As I am trying to wake Dillon, the hawg gets closer and closer to the blind. He was eating on a large pile of corn we spread out. I finally get Dillon on his feet and the hawg is 40 yards broadside. We both have our rifles out the windows and I whisper to him, are you ready for me to count. He says yes, and I count one, BOOOOOM, he shoots, I jump, the hawg flips over. I say loudly WHAT DID YOU DO ? He says loudly, YOU FREAKED ME OUT WHEN YOU SAID ONE ! LOL, after watching the hawg for about 5 minutes we walked up to it and it was popping his worn down cutters and kicking his back leg. I get Dillon in position and he shoots the hawg again in the chest. DRT. Fun times with grandson, will never forget it !

Without a doubt,,,,,this hunt !

This story made me LOL for real. So many great stories. Don your story is awesome. Some of my best hunting memories came from guiding my kids and some of my friends kids!!! Thanks for posting them folks.Baker

Good stuff fellas, fun reading these.

I posted this a long time ago and just did again in the OT "Wish you could've been there" thread, but it works here too......

dang, I have too many memories of great hunts ... it will take some time to formulate a few ... stay tuned.

Like others, most of my fondest memories come from days out hunting but my best memory by far is also the oldest. As a kid growing up in Colorado I used to beg my dad to take me elk hunting with the guys. Well as elk hunting was all business with no time to have a little one tagging along I stayed at home while dad and the "grown up's" were out. I remember like yesterday when he finally decided he would take me for the first "official" time when I was 9 years old. We started our hike way before daylight on what was a very difficult walk for me and dad showed uncharacteristic patience in helping me over trees and along rock slides until we reached a spot overlooking a small park surround by aspens and scattered pines. Dad said "I was sitting right here on this rock when I killed my first elk in 1963. I could see the excitement in his eyes as he described how the elk came out across the park and how the bull finally stepped out. He relived the shot and explained how he shot the elk twice and where it fell like it had happened just the day before. We sat in silence for some time and watched the park. I happened to look down at my feet and to my amazement both of his spent brass were sitting by my boot! Almost 16 years later and they were still there! Obviously black and tarnished but still there none the less! As I picked them up you could see the shock in his face! He never knew it but I carried both of those pieces of brass with me on every hunt I ever went on from that day forward. When my dad passed away
I placed one of the pieces of brass in his coat pocket at the funeral. I still carry the other piece with me on every hunt still to this day. When I want to visit my dad I make my way back to that rock overlooking the park and sit with him...

10ring, great story and tribute to your dad

HnF "really" likes this one!

Damn onions.

I have been lucky enough to have many great memories hunting with my brother and 2 life long friends.
In 1989 hunting near Mercury Tx (east of Brownwood) on the neighbors property was a fox den. Every afternoon 4 young kittens came to visit their mother and would play. Just like clock work they showed up and were very entertaining to pass the time. One very slow afternoon I had been watching them to help pass the time and scanning the area for deer every few minutes. Had not seen any thing all day and was happy to have them help pass the time. They all stopped and made a run for the den. I checked the field and saw 2 deer, one young doe was being chased by a bruiser 8 point at 150 yards. I took aim, squeezed the trigger and click. They both whipped around looking my direction. I knew I had loaded the gun, so as quite as I could ejected and caught the dud and chambered another round as they they headed away from me. I had forgotten my calls in another stand so did my best bleet call. The buck stopped in his tracks as I took aim again. He was now 225 yards away as I squeezed the trigger again, dropping him where he stood.
Another year at a lease near Blanket, I was bow hunting during the Monarch butterfly migration. I was hunting in a tripod and for 3 days had cloud after cloud of butterflies pass by me. What a beautiful sight of God's creation to witness.
Years before my brother, my buddy John and my self were hunting public land and had drank a few too many beers. We had called it a night and went to sleep in the tent. In the early morning I woke to the sound of zipper repeatedly being worked. Opened my eyes to see John zipping the window back and forth. I asked him what he was doing he said he had to pee and could not get the door to open. I said dumb*** that is the window. He said OK and started back to working the zipper on the window again. I started laughing and had to go my self, at that point got up and unzipped the door as he pushed me out of the way and ran out. We still give him a hard time about that 30 years later.

I have a lot of good hunting memories, but I will share this memory with you...my oldest son's first deer. I have taken my kids hunting with me since they were old enough to walk and be quiet when I told them to, & we have spent a lot of time at the range together. I have hunted on & guided hunts on some pretty awesome ranches but wasn't able to take my kids at that time or I was gone working somewhere when I could take them. Didn't get my son's first deer or his sister's first deer as early as I wanted to but, it is what it is. So, on with the story......
It was a crisp South Tx morning, there was frost on the ground and in the bushes with a little ice. Was glassing at first light, and admiring natures beauty. A few does came out, and we watched them. Deer hunting is normally pretty tuff on this place, I have made them/him pass every deer over & again. Always either a nice young buck that needs to walk, or does that need to walk because we don't have the numbers yet on this place to start culling does. Was again hoping for a shooter buck, or a cull. Out of the brush stepped a young long tined spike, after passing numerous 1 1/2 yr old 4 pointers I told my son to get ready. He took off into the brush and dissapeared. My son, on the ready, just put his head down again. I told him to stay ready. A minute or two later this spike came running back from the other direction towards the road. I told my son to take his safety off and as soon as he got to the road I was going to grunt at him (with my voice) to stop him & as soon as he stops pop him in the sweet spot behind the shoulder (he knew where to shoot). He was not ready for a neck or head shot
yet. As soon as the deer hit the road I grunted at him and he stopped at 50 yrds. As soon as he stopped my boy popped him right where I told him to. He jumped, kicked, and ran 30 yrds into the brush and crashed out of sight. I heard him crash but my boy didn't. "Dad did I get him, did I get him!!!!". I said it sure looks like you did son, LOL, be quiet & hold your horses. We'll give him 30 minutes and go look for blood. I swear, that was the longest 30 minutes of my life. I wanted that deer as bad as he did. Got down & found him pretty quick. He was grinning from ear to ear. One of the best days of my life. That spike (3 pointer) will always be a trophy for us, and he ate good..

Will share one more....my daughters first deer.....
So after doing a number of things (improvements) on this place we finally started seeing more does. Still, during the entire deer season I made my daughter pass on good looking young bucks & does in hopes of catching one of the big boys that have been seen on occasion. Never did see a cull buck when she was with me So, I decided in January that she was going to take a doe, period. On with the story.....
It was another cool morning and a group of 6 does came to the road on their way to the feeder. Picked out the biggest doe of the bunch & as soon as we had a clear broadside shot I gave the order to shoot. This girl, hunt, after hunt, after hunt, begged me to let her shoot a doe but my answer was always no...we need to wait. Finally, I gave her the thumbs up and she was all smiles....75 yrds and a double lung shot. Deer ran out of sight....my daughters eyes swelled up with tears. "Dad, did I miss? Did I make a bad shot, she didn't fall." I told her, "I don't know yet Sis but looks like you hit her good. Chill out & take a deep breath, if you hit her where I told you too she's not going to drop, but she won't go far." Gave her about 30 minutes then got down. She was right by my side and showed her the tracks, drag marks leaving the road. She learned the difference between regular running deer tracks and a wounded deer running tracks. She learned what lung blood looks like, the pink spray that covered cactus, brush, tree limbs, & grass with every breath the deer takes. Her doe went about 50 yrds, I spotted her dead under a huisache but didn't say anything. I put her in front of me and told her to follow that blood trail & find your deer. I got scared for a second thinking that I hugged her too hard when she saw her, heard something pop. To me, this is what life is all about. Good times....

When I was twelve or thirteen I would tag along coon hunting with Clyde, a retired gentleman who was a good friend to my deceased father. We would head out a little before sundown and most times be back home a little after midnight. On one occasion we hunted a place just outside of Blum, Tx. We let the dogs out and they immediately struck a hot trail and head northwest up the main creek toward Hwy 174.

Me and a buddy Bob who came with us followed the dogs as they trailed the game up the main creek. The hounds made this huge circle, crossing over a bluff and doubled back down a tributary, back towards the direction they came. Clyde was waiting on the dirt road above where we let out to catch them as they crossed. Well, the plan fell apart as the hounds were only 5 seconds behind the lion as he crossed the road. Me and Bob were maybe 10 minutes behind the dogs. I can remember Clyde yelling me to hurry up if I didn't want to stay there all night. I remember it like it was yesterday him say "Geer if you don't want to stay here all night you'd better go get them hounds before they cross the river". When we made it back to the truck I ask Clyde what crossed the road and he replied all he saw was a long tail.

Well, needless to say, we didn't catch up to the dogs until they they finally treed on the other side of the Nolan river about 5 hours later. That cottonwood tree they ran that lion up must have been 8 feet in diameter. It was so big my boot would fit between the bark. The only thing we could see of that lion was about 8" of his tail draping off the side of a huge limb it was laying on. Bob and I leashed the hounds and started walking back to the truck just before sunrise. There was a moderate fog in the air as we walked out of the river bottom onto a winter wheat field. Clyde having stayed at the truck listening to the race made his way toward us as morning appeared. He caught up to us as we were entering that wheat field. I never will forget his image of him wearing his fedora and canvas hunting vest walking along with his cane through the fog. I think of Clyde often and most time when I do, I remember that night we treed the Blum Lion.

Technology is a wonderful thing. Here is the track we took that night back in 75'

Great stories yall! Thanks for sharing!

When my son was about 11, I took him to Highlonesome's place for a deer hunt. We sat one afternoon overlooking a water trough. We sat on a the fence line, planning to use the wire for a rest. I noticed a small buck south of us, so we stood up and got next to a big cedar bush. Before my son could get in position, I looked a few feet away at where we were sitting and there was a good 10 point walking down the fence line. I looked because the small buck looked that way. We waited til he passed, then sat back down and my son stuck his gun back through the fence and shot the 10. I'm not sure what would have happened had we not moved, since the buck would have bumped into his gun barrel sticking through the fence:). High winds kept the buck from noticing us standing next to the cedar bush. That, my friends, was a great hunt!

The most memorable happened in Callahan County over 15 years ago near Table Rock. My 10 year old son and I were in a small 10 acre pasture surrounded by the hills where the bucks would bed down. Nearing dark thirty. Both know it is time to be sharp. Fog begins to roll down out of the hills so we are scoping everything. Son has the .270 for the first time on a hunt, although he has shot it at the rifle range. About 10 to 6, a nice buck, I mean a trophy 10 on our place can be seen jumping the fence and heading into the field. We had corned the middle of the field to get us a possible 150 yard shot. Well that big old buck slowly walked through the fog and began to eat that corn pile. Son, you got him in your sight? Yes sir. Well when he quarters away you know what to do. Breathe, squeeze. And then boom. That old monster dropped right there. I told son, chamber and hold on him just in case. By that time the fog was making things difficult to see. Son said I can't scope him now. With my binocs I could see that buck was about to get up and urged him to find him in the scope. Alas, too dark and foggy. I watched that buck get up and walk slowly out of the field to the thick stuff. A four hour search showed absolutely no blood. The next spring we found his sheds. He had a bullet crease at the base, must of knocked him silly for a few minutes. Son shot a bit high in his fever. Good news is his little brother tagged him the next year in the same field at 275 yards. Now we have a mount and some sheds to carry on the story.

I wrote a poem for the boy called the "grey ghost", and had it framed with the spent cartridge. It sits next to the sheds.

I took my Dad turkey hunting for his first time. We had a lease in Llano and I'd put to bed a flock of turkeys the night before.
We set up on them the next morning and I had Dad prone about 30 yards in front of me with a decoy slightly to his left front. I started calling and managed to bring a nice 8" or so bird right to the decoy. I saw Dad stiffen up slightly and figured he was getting ready to lower the boom. Nothing. No shot, nothing.

Finally, the bird got bored and wandered off. Once he was out of sight I got up and asked Dad why he didn't shoot the turkey when it was 20 yards away. He hadn't moved. He just said "Would you see if that rattlesnake is still there between my legs?" There wasn't anything there and told him so. He got up and told me he felt something bump his leg about the time the turkey got there. He'd looked back and saw the rattle of the snake as it was moving over his leg. He didn't feel it go over the other leg and thought it had coiled up between his legs. He said "I was afraid to shoot because I thought the snake would bite my on my b**t!"

One of many great hunts I had with my Dad. Rest in Peace Dad. Semper Fi.

Bump. Keep em' coming!

Gosh, where to start. OK, here goes. My Son and I were hunting LBJ grasslands about '89. I walked him to an area I had previously scouted. He climbed a tree with his single shot Harrington and Richardson 12 gauge, with a slug. I was whithin sight of him. Right before dark he shoots. All I can hear is him calling me, Dad, Dad, I got one. He shot a spike. Later when we got back to camp, we hoisted him up in a big postoak. It was extremely windy that night. We awoke to discover the tag had not been properly secured, either that, or one of our fellow campers tried to set us up. We loaded up WITHOUT our proper tags.....I believe the statute of limitations has run it's course on this particular case

Time to re visit this thread! It's been a little slow here and I think it's time for a few more hunting memories!!!!! Baker

Not fair 10ring I was planning on shutting down and going in to watch TV with the family and I had to wait for my eyes to clear. Whata ya think of them bears Great story my friend

I've got one I'll never forget! When I was 4 my dad took me dove hunting for the first time and I was having a blast. Well we were walking back to the truck for everyone to clean birds(it was my dad, grandpa,great grandpa, uncle, and me)shooting time hadn't quite hit us yet but it was close. My grandpa was about 25 yards quartered behind us when a dove flew in his range and he shot it. Well I yelled "I'll get him pawpaw!!" So I ran over to it and it wasn't dead and he said ring his neck like this! And from 40 yards away he showed me in the air. Well I pick that bird up by the head and swung him like a baseball bat and his body flew about 10 yards away with its head in my hand. We all laughed and he said "don't tell your mama boy".....well that night at supper guess what the first thing to come outta my mouth was when she had a fork full of mashed potatoes almost to her mouth....the fight between her and my dad began

14 years later(I'm 18) me my dad grandpa great grandpa and uncle all still dove and deer hunt. And we all have a blast. When it's fast shooting and I get my limit I go sit with my great grandpa and pick out birds he usually doesn't see and get them when he hits them. Those right there are memories I won't forget and hope my son one day will get to experience the same

It was the first time My father and all his son's got together for a hunt, we were at the Circle K Ranch just north of Delores CO back in the early 80's. Pop and I started up a hill with him on the south side and me taking the dark timber nth side. We came together at the second saddle and discussed what the next move would be. There was one more saddle before we peaked and decided to do the same split until the peak. Just as we separated I looked down below and seen a small black spot that just didn't look right. I raised my 7-mag to put some glass on it and discovered it was the nose of a mule-deer. When it turned it's head I realized it wasn't only a deer but a buck and a big one! It was less than a 100 yard shot but it was a steep down hill and only had about 6 inches between the trees to make it happen. Took the shot not realizing my pop was only about 20 yards across from me watching the whole thing (he seen me stop and raise my rifle). I took the shot and heard Pop say "Did you get it?", told him I wasn't sure it took off in the famous Mule-Deer stoat. Went down the hill on my butt (really steep!) and went to where he was standing and all i found was tracks with no blood. I felt pretty sure about the shot so I followed the tracks for about 100 yards until I came to a small header with an exposed outcropping of rock bathed in sunlight and there he was barely hanging on due to the incline. Tied it off and waited for Pop to make his way down the hill.

Cleaned it and went back down to bring in a hand with the horses to get it off the side of the hill. We head back up with 4 horses, 2 for riding and two for packing. Here's a word of advise for anybody with a pack horse in tow, "Never tie the lead off to the saddle horn" Made that mistake and the pack horse decided to stop and pee and I got shot off the left side of the saddle! Getting the pack horse down to where he was wasn't that bad but getting them out was no fun, it was steep and they kept sitting down. Had to bring down one of the riding horses and help pull them back up.

Coming off the mountain.



That buck net scored 209 and was a 7x6 with allot of deducts.

Had some funny things happen that I will never forget but my best memory is of my 2014 elk hunt in Utah. My wife and son (then 6) went with me and spent a few days at The Arches. Got to the ranch and ready for my hunt. Just my guide and myself in the mornings but had the wife and son come out with us during the afternoon hunt. We were on horses the first day so all of us rode to our hunt that first afternoon. My son was tired of just sitting while we were glassing. My guide (Duke) showed him how to use some rangefinders and that kept him happy.
The next afternoon all of us went out again and my son started ranging things. He got my attention and said, "Daddy, that brush over there is 368 yards away." That was good information in my mind and told him so. He asked if I could shoot that far and I said that I could. Then he said, "Can you hit that far?" I told him that I could but that I would like to be a bit closer. Duke told him to not worry, that he will get me closer. What he had ranged was some bushes in between 2 wallows that we were watching.
We were seeing a bunch of animals and had a 5x5 and several cows run out and feed around the wallows. A big bull then showed up from the thick stuff and walked right to the area that my son had ranged. Duke told me that this was a GOOD bull. He got me a bit closer. My wife and son stayed back and were able to watch as we made our move and then I proned out and got the bull. Ended up being a 6x6 that scored 374 2/8.
I won't be able to do that one again.

Here is mine that I posted back in 2011. http://texashuntingforum.com/forum/ubbthreads.php/topics/2717543/1

The were so many reasons this hunt and buck was special to me. If you look at page 2, you will see pics of my dad's deer as well, which is what started the personal connection for me with this buck.

This thread has some great stories but I think my favorite is 10ring's.

Here is a story from this past season.


Two command Morning:

We had some really fast hunts and some really slow hunts over the holidays with all the crazy weather and I wanted to share a story from my favorite hunt of the holidays. I was able to take a good friend who is 72 and trained pointers and brittanys in his younger days, very seasoned hunter and probably more of a seasoned trainer.

We had pretty slow morning with a poor set up, had a few groups come in but only managed 2 ducks. The first duck was splashed about 30 yds out in front of us. So I give my dog one enthusiastic 'Ruby' command and she is off. Gets the ducks and swims back I take it from her and she hops right back in her dog box. Next group comes in and we hit one but it glides about 200 yds to our left in front of another group, it gets shot again and retrieved by the other hunting party (on private land so no big deal). Last bird we hit ends up being crippled and glides about 100 yds directly away from us across from into some thick swampy stuff. Once again I give her one quick 'Ruby' and she is off. See her head straight out to were it was then hear lots of splashing about 5 min later she is on her way back bringing the cripple back to me.

After the hunt his over my friend tells me this was one of his most enjoyable hunts he has ever been on. I give him a sort of surprised look since I didn't think much of the hunt other than I screwed up the set up and we missed out on several birds. He then tells me, 'Matt I have never seen such a natural retriever in my life. Do you realize you only gave 2 commands all morning? Not once did you say load up, stay, steady, hold, over... anything. Just 2 'Rubys' and that's it. You didn't have to talk to the dog and she was plastered to the front of the blind watching patiently. No whining, squirming, moving or anything. I just want you to realize the all don't come like this and you need to appreciate how lucky you are for having a dog like that.'

Turned my worst hunt over the holidays into my favorite hunt yet.

Walking along a low fence in a 500-odd acre HF place. WT doe on left side, jumps across to our side, and stays about 40yd. This is summer 2013 while axis hunting. She doesn't bolt, so we check where she crossed from: there was a spotted fawn hidden in the foliage right there. Probably one of the cutest things I've seen out in the woods. It eventually got tired of us sticking cameras in its face, so ran off back into the pasture, and started bleating. We moved along and the doe eventually made her way back to the babe.

Also, got to 60yd of a group of 30"+ axis bucks with my friend. That was satisfying; wish there were some doe in there.

Stalking axis doe with mulie_mike's crew was also probably one of the "greats." to Mike.

Good thread!

My greatest hunting memory is sitting in the stand with my father in April 2014. We sat there for about 3 hours talking, sharing memories and drinking beer. A group of about 20 axis came out and my dad missed a 200 yard shot. We laughed and drank abother beer. That would be the last time I hunted with my pops. He was too sick by deer season to travel. That four days we spent at the ranch was my favorite hunt.

Great story buddy, thanks for sharing!!!

Thanks to everyone for adding their memories to this thread.

It was in 1995, on this beautiful piece of Texas that has been in my family since 1898 I scored my first trophy whitetail and will forever be a special and wonderful moment in my lifetime. The winter had been a little cooler than usual that year and a little more rain than normal for this part of the Texas Panhandle. Not having the opportunity to make the normal seasonal trips as usual I was there with a good friend for the final weekend of deer season for a little relaxation and in hope of a little venison for our freezers. Enjoying the outdoors and cool weather we were not seeing any mature bucks and doe were still off limits for this county. It was on that Sunday morning I thought I would give it that one last try even though it was cold, windy and my buddy decided to sleep in. After a very cold sunrise and with my toes not having too much feeling left, the sounds coming from the cabin were telling me my friend was up and I made the decision to give it up and head back for a hot cup of coffee and start packing for the trip back home. With two steps already down the ladder from the blind I saw a glimpse or shadow over my right shoulder at about 150 yards. A second sighting was a group of four bucks popping over the back fence and out into the open prairie. I almost crashed and burned trying to get back up the ladder and knew it was either now or never for this last outing to come out successful. I only had 3 of my Sierra boat tail 165 grain bullets and knew the odds would be thin with all four of the bucks in full run. They turned to the left behind me and again were all topping a dividing fence at about 150 yards. I could tell the slow guy had to be the oldest but all were wide and thick horned. As he lagged behind my first shot was over his head, chamber another round, and a miss behind his back foot. At this time he was in full stride and topping the cross fence behind the others and I knew this last shot had to count. Careful aim, lead and Wham…in midair he crashed to the ground as the others were up and away. I began to wonder as I could not see anything walking out to where he went down for the bluestem grass was very tall this year. It was then the tip of his horns appeared glistening over the tall grass and I could see a shadow of his large frame. I was shaking and very cautious as I walked up to see for the first time a truly magnificent whitetail trophy which would score 140 inches and make the Texas Big Game Award for the 95-96 season of that region. I Finally Did It!

I was a little boy hunting with my Dad, he loved to take me and I loved being there. We made some good memories making a fire, cooking our supper, and getting ready for the hunt to come. The sight of his rifle and bullets got me so excited I couldn't stand it. For probably a year before that hunt he had spent quite a bit of time with me teaching me the basics of gun safety. How to shoot. How to read sign and play the wind. I was ready to drop the biggest buck in Texas that day but only carried a BB Gun...We hunted a 25' tower blind in Duval County. It was cold that evening, at least I was cold and shivering. Dad wasn't cold though, he was 6' and weighed 275-300 lbs. His hands were huge and his fingers were fat. He was strong, and had a reputation of catching bad guys and slamming drunks and dope heads to the ground when they wouldn't listen. He was always Superman to me, I looked up to him more than anything in the world. Dad made me climb first in case I slipped he could catch me. Got in the blind, and there were yellow jackets. They were cold and barely moving so Dad pulled his knife and started cutting them in half. While he got his rifle & binoculars ready he let me use his knife to kill the rest. There was only one chair in the blind, so Dad carried up a blanket for me. After I sat in his lap for a while and ran off some cows with my BB Gun he cleared a spot for me in the corner. Wrapped me up in the blanket, and poured a cup of hot chocolate from his American made Stanley Thermos. He pulled the lid off of a coffee can heater, it was a roll of toilet paper soaked in rubbing alcohol. He lit it, and I stared at that little flame until I fell asleep. It was cold, and quiet, and awesome. I kept waking up asking if he saw anything. He said, "Son, be quiet. I will let you know". So I sat in the corner for what seemed like eternity drinking hot chocolate and peeing into a jug. I dozed off, but every move Dad made woke me up and wanted to get in the window with him. "Simmer down son, I'll let you know if I see something". "Yes Sir" I fell asleep again, but then awoke to see Dad grab his heavy barrel Remington 25-06 BDL and shove it out the window. Then he said "hold yours ears son". Boo whap! "Dad, Dad. did you get him......Daaaaad, Dad, did you...yes son. He is down....How far was he Dad?.... About 200 yrds.....Where did you shoot him Dad??....In the neck son. He's laying right there on the edge of the sendero. He stuck his neck out of the brush, he's down. Be quiet so I can listen." I couldn't stand it. After a few minutes my Dad let me look though the binoculars, but I couldn't tell what I was looking at. He said, "We're gonna sit for a bit, be quiet son." Then, finally, we got down. When my feet touched the ground I wanted to run, but Dad called me back and again told me to be quiet. He said, "You walk behind me son". That was a long walk, for me and my short legs anyway. We approached the deer, Dad nudged him, and grabbed him by the horns dragging him into the road. He had killed a crap load of bucks before (antlers aaall over the house) but to me this was the most awesome thing in the world. He taught me how to gut a deer. He hung it in a tree for a while. We took a nap, then said "Time to load up and get home. We'll skin him at the house."
That is a memory. I love you Dad. Wish you were still here today. I sure miss you.

I'll share one more, this morning... My ex BIL was a young man (11 or 12 then, now in his mid/late 20's). His Father never had anything to do with him and his step dad is a very strange fellow and not a hunter. This young man always struck me as a good kid so I took him out to get his first kill (a rabbit). Took him out on his first fishing trip (limited on redfish), bla bla....but he wanted his first pig. At that time I was guiding (hunting trips) on the weekends but the rules were pretty strict as far as who I could take, when, and why.....So, the boss man calls me and says Skinner there's a big boar hog on feeder #7 that won't leave the feeder, he is running all the deer off and we have WT hunters coming in next weekend. Get rid of that pig. So, I ask if I can take my Lil' BIL and I will back him up. We'll still be in & out, no worries. He says OK. Take my BIL to the range with my 243, he's on the money. Now we head to the famous Welder Ranch to get him his first hog. I spot the accused swine at 400 yrds. We back up, and go down wind in the brush. He is nervous, as he has never been in thick brush before and he knows he is about to shoot a huge pig. I get him within 100 yrds. He can't do it, he wants to get closer...OK. Now we are on hands & knees and I set him up at 50 yrds. He starts shaking, says he can't do it he needs to get closer. I said "are you serious, it's 50 yrds?" He said "I can't I'm shaking too bad". We slid out under a Guajillo Bush at 30 yrds, I was on my belly and he rested the rifle on my shoulder. STILL, "I can't, I need to get closer," I'm thinking to myself, good lord I'm gonna have to shoot this pig on the run. I crank the scope all the way down and further direct him, and we belly crawl to within 10 YRDS of the feeder, sloooowly, hidden behind grass and bushes. Good thing we had enough wind to cover us. The boar is laying down under the feeder, big fat sucker. I whisper in his hear, "You have to shoot now, on 3". As soon as we come around this bush, porky sticks his head up alerted. "1, 2, BOOM". Pig is doing the floppidy flop. I jump up, slide the pump on the 30-06 I was carrying, he's done.....He took a shot right behind the ear. DEAD PIG! Way to go man whoop whoop!! Awesome shot bud. You had a hard time getting it done but you did it son!! He is ecstatic, I got my first pig this is sooo awesome. Thank you so much. I notice his gun is still on "fire". I said remember the safety, member what we talked about. Ok I'm sorry. I said kick that empty shell out and keep it. That's your first pig and a BIG one at that. He opens the bolt and a loaded round pops out. He never pulled the trigger. I said OK, this is our little secret, as far as anyone knows you belly crawled and shot this pig at close range, OK. He just grinned at me and gave me a hug. This is the first time I've spoken about this I believe. Good memories, and that boar scaled almost 350 lbs!! He was a stud!! Dadgummit why couldn't that boy pull the trigger.

Great stories Skinnerback..