Friends lost, but not forgotten. Jack Tyson I miss you bud. You were the only friend I had that would go fishing anytime anywhere, even if it was in an old mud hole. Roy Caraines I can still see us sitting up on that rock mountain down in Llano and you pushing the 700 rem 280 onto fire and drawing a bead down on a buck walking too far away for a twelve year old. Then the deer dropping in its tracks at 300 yrds. Justin Broad I miss our good times spent in the woods hunting and fishing. You were hell on them deer with that camo Mossberg 12 gauge with some buckshot. Forever missed and never forgotten. Yall are all with me when I'm striken out across some huntin and fishin spots to catch or kill something. Yall all died way to young and that is my pain inside. Wish you were here.

ta THF. ta all the lost hunting buddies

COOL POSTADDIC

Always thought this'd be good to do around a fire, out loud, with friends, during the "Hunter's Moon" in October, before hunting season begins. Perhaps with a beverage in hand. Sorta like muster the Aggies do.

(I started to type out stuff, but got too dang weepy. 'Guess that beverage better be my first of the evening!)

To my grandfather, Smokey. You always took me into the woods by your house. Grandma would get mad because we would drag mud in to the kitchen. Those experiences created my love for the outdoors. I still keep our photo from your old lake house on Ray Hubbard by my kitchen table. I could have only been two in the photo. Think about you every day old man. This beer is for you.

P.S. I'm breaking out your 12 gauge for the first time this weekend. Might become my go-to when duck season starts back up.

Yes It is hard to write about the ones we've lost, but it does feel good to let it out. I've lost relatives and friends that fished and hunted a lot and wish they were here now. They always wanted to just go, oh how things have changed.

New Years Eve get misty eye's whin hear the song: Should Old Aquantance be Forgotten. Edit: as pappy once said: [i] i may have alian body parts, but my heart is human.

To my Grandsfather that introduced me to the pleasures of hunting and fishing. He passed when I was young (1969). He lived from the time when he rode a covered wagon to his farm NE of Plainview to before he died, he flew on a jet plane to visit his oldest daughter in Phoenix, AZ.

To my father(and best friend), who's passed 5 years ago(way too early) not a day goes by I don't think of you. Many times I've been driving home from hunting and picked up the phone only to remember.. Thank you for teaching me the outdoors how to look for sign and above all the "shut up and be still", LMAO! Chris, fun times going through basic training, Pararescue school, and two tours in Afghanistan. I knew if I got hit, it was because you took one first and vise versa. I wish a thousand deaths the POS who planted the IED that took you my friend.. NEVER, NEVER forgotten!!

Hey BowTech from the 82nd Airborne, stay strong.

To my buddies, Rick, Johnny, Brandon. Great guys and LOTS of fun to hang out with. I'm gonna' pour out some beer for you fellers

http://texashuntingforum.com/forum/ubbthreads.php/users/19086


Hunted with this fella from the time I could walk until I moved off to San Antonio at 22. Very fitting that he would pass on the first opening day that he'd ever had to miss after cancer had taken its toll on him.

It would be kind of cool if THF had a retired names list of members we have lost. I have heard of a few on different threads. Kind of like retiring a jersey number.

Here's to grandpa

And here's to my Grandfather and Father, and to Jack, and Dan, and Earl, and Oliver. They were all great guys to hunt with and I do miss them.

I like this post. To my Grandfather for loading us kids up and taking us fishing every chance he got. To my aunt and uncle, together again. My uncle always found me a spot to hunt with him (passed 7 yrs ago) My aunt just passed a few weeks ago, she introduced me to fishing saltwater with my uncle. Now the fishing team is back together.

To the "Captain", my best friend's Dad. Made sure me and my buddy had a place to hunt and fish ever since we were 5 years old and we are 52 and 53 now. We lost him to cancer in 2013 and we talk about all the good memories over the years we had with him every time we go hunting and fishing and always try to do it the Captain's way.

A shout out to John Collinsworth Jr. John you might still be alive out there somewhere, and if so, PM me if you see this post.

I never got to deer hunt growing up. I used to dream I would one day when my friends would go with their Dads. John took me aside where I worked with him on the freight docks. He decided he was taking me deer hunting. We hunted the paper mill land near Gilmer. Shot my first deer and have never missed a season since then.

Here's to you John.

To my Dad... I started hunting with him when I was 5 years old and fishing with him when I was still in diapers.
He not only taught me to fish and hunt but most importantly taught me to be a man.
We lost him to cancer on June 22, 2013. He was only 71 years old.

I love you Dad and thanks for always being there

To my friend Shawn who left this world too damn early. He was with me when I shot my first pig and helped me field dress that beast.

To my best friend Karl Anderson we have been a million miles together..hunting..fishing..gone too soon..not a day goes by that I dont think of him and all the crazy fun times we had.RIP man..miss you buddy..

i've lost my entire family dad,mom,brother and sister me and dad deer hunted together many a years.we all fished as a family theres not a day go by that i dont miss each and everyone of them.they are still a family less one person but they are patiently waiting on me.

To my Little Brother who I lost last November before Thanksgiving
Miss ya bro

Some hearfelt posts on here. Keep 'em coming.

To Buddy, my FIL with whom I probably spent as much time with as my own dear old dad.

To Joe, who after fighting and killing Japs in the Pacific, could go through a swamp like it was a walk in the park.

To Ernest, another WWII veteran, who had the patience to wait all day for a Tom to show if he had to.

To Red, who had a heart as big as his statue.

To Greg, who died far too young.

To Page, who loved buying and trading dogs more than life itself.

And to my dad, who even though he would just as well watch the grass grow as the hunt anything, never said a negative word about how much time I spent hunting with others.