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BayouBill

What's your favorite hunting memory/story?

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In the spirit of favorite fishing trip thread, curious to read some of your favorite hunting memories or stories. 

Like a lot of you guys mine center around me and my dad when I was little. One thing I always look back on is hunting at out families place in east texas. The hunting there has gotten much better over the past 10-15 years but for a time in the early/mid 90's you might be lucky to see a doe here or there all season. So hunting with my dad usually consisted of plenty of nothing to look at. To pass the time in the stand we would pretend there were deer EVERYWHERE. He would whsiper things like "Don't move, I see a 14 point right behind that tree!" And I'd say something stupid like "No I think he's a 20 point buck...and he's BLUE!" 

My dad "Ah that's him! The Great Blue Buck of Anderson County!"

I just remember trying not laugh and stay quite, but for 6 or 7 year old me, that's pure comedic gold. 

Again, curious to know what stories you all may have.

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My son at 7 years old shooting his first deer sitting in my lap with his grandfather in the chair next to me. Deer dropped like a sack of potatoes, and he collapsed into my arms crying. I thought he was sad he killed the deer, but when I asked him what was wrong, he said "It's my first deer and I'm just so happy"

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50 minutes ago, Pescado_Rojo said:

My son at 7 years old shooting his first deer sitting in my lap with his grandfather in the chair next to me. Deer dropped like a sack of potatoes, and he collapsed into my arms crying. I thought he was sad he killed the deer, but when I asked him what was wrong, he said "It's my first deer and I'm just so happy"

That's awesome.  My son also took his first deer at 7.  Definitely my best memory.

The weirdest memory was a hunt I had back in 1991.  I was 14 and my family had just bought a ranch west of Pearsall.  The first time I go out and hunt the place, I am by myself.  Sitting there waiting for the feeder to go off.  It goes off.  And a freaking monkey walks out and starts eating the corn.  Had no idea their were monkeys in South Texas, even though I had hunted my whole life in the area.  Sure enough, someone had brought a bunch of Japanese Snow Monkeys to a nature preserve in the late 70s.  Many escaped because they could not afford to keep the fence in proper condition.  And there was a feral population for awhile.  Another monkey was spotted miles away on the other side of the ranch later that day, and my friend who saw it got it on video.  We never saw monkeys again.  

Also as a young boy, we leased one of Dolph Briscoe's pastures.  I believe it was around Carrizo Springs (the man owned land everywhere).  Well on this place they had alligators on their stock tanks.  I think the idea was they were good for the tanks because they would walk around the bottom and mash the mud/clay so the tank would hold water better.  Well there was no fencing around the tanks.  So you would see those fuckers walking down roads and senderos.  As a little kid, it was kind of scary walking through the brush knowing alligators were around.

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Harlan Winter told me a story once about losing a dog in a tank around there. He got asked/hired to bring some pointers down for a big group quail hunt. Nobody told him there were alligators in the tanks, and he sent his dogs down to one to get a drink/cool off. Fucking gator grabbed one of the dogs, and he ran down and put some pistol shots into the gators body and it let the dog go and went back into the water to die. He said the dog was all torn up on the head and neck and was going to bleed to death, so he had to shoot it and put it down. He was so pissed he put the rest of the dogs back in the truck and went home. 

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20 minutes ago, Pescado_Rojo said:

Harlan Winter told me a story once about losing a dog in a tank around there. He got asked/hired to bring some pointers down for a big group quail hunt. Nobody told him there were alligators in the tanks, and he sent his dogs down to one to get a drink/cool off. Fucking gator grabbed one of the dogs, and he ran down and put some pistol shots into the gators body and it let the dog go and went back into the water to die. He said the dog was all torn up on the head and neck and was going to bleed to death, so he had to shoot it and put it down. He was so pissed he put the rest of the dogs back in the truck and went home. 

Every person I know that is serious about pointing and retrieving dogs not only loves their dogs, but puts a shitload of time and expense into them.  I can't imagine how pissed he would be.

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Posted (edited)

My first duck hunting trip was with my dad and a couple of his friends. I was 11 and we were pass shooting between two lakes less than a mile from each other. We bagged several ducks, most of which were not the same species or sex (canvasbacks, gadwalls, mallards, and a teal of some sort).

We didn’t keep the ducks separated, and when we we walking back out of there, a game warden approached. He asked to see our bounty, then asked us in what order we shot them.

I was so pumped up about the hunt that I had the point system memorized. I started to answer him, but the adults started to giving conflicting answers. I tried interrupting, but was cut off.

Finally, the warden asked me directly, thinking the kid would give an honest answer. I gave him the only order that mathematically kept us legal. One of the older guys thought the gadwall (which he didn’t shoot) was a mallard hen, and another later admitted that he was thinking of the points for a red head instead of a canvasback.

About an hour later, I was in my way to the ER because I almost lost my thumb on a big electric emery wheel that my dad turned on because he was going to use the bristle end to remove rust from an old butchers knife. I was leaning against a table on the other end with my hand next to the grinding wheel.

The first part is one of my favorites because the second part made it so memorable. 

Edited by ImissWallyPryor

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47 minutes ago, ImissWallyPryor said:

I was so pumped up about the hunt that I had the point system memorized. 

Mine from one of my first seasons hunting ducks on my own.

pointsystem-b.jpg

pointsystem-f.jpg

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Posted (edited)

I wish I had saved mine from 1972, only it would have been sponsored by Schmidt, The Brew that Grew with the Great Northwest.

il_fullxfull.300060083.jpg

Edited by ImissWallyPryor
details

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That's very similar to the point system we were working with, except the teal (blue or green, can't recall which) was worth more. My dad's friend was going to claim he shot the Canvasback then something else.  The point limit was 100, lol.

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3 hours ago, Pescado_Rojo said:

My son at 7 years old shooting his first deer sitting in my lap with his grandfather in the chair next to me. Deer dropped like a sack of potatoes, and he collapsed into my arms crying. I thought he was sad he killed the deer, but when I asked him what was wrong, he said "It's my first deer and I'm just so happy"

That was a good f'n day.  Drinking whiskey that night while the boys repeatedly told their "my first deer" stories from that afternoon was about as good as it gets.  And I remember what we each said to the other that night -- I don't care if I ever shoot another deer in my life.  The boys can shoot 'em all.

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2 hours ago, Johnny Sack said:

That's awesome.  My son also took his first deer at 7.  Definitely my best memory.

The weirdest memory was a hunt I had back in 1991.  I was 14 and my family had just bought a ranch west of Pearsall.  The first time I go out and hunt the place, I am by myself.  Sitting there waiting for the feeder to go off.  It goes off.  And a freaking monkey walks out and starts eating the corn.  Had no idea their were monkeys in South Texas, even though I had hunted my whole life in the area.  Sure enough, someone had brought a bunch of Japanese Snow Monkeys to a nature preserve in the late 70s.  Many escaped because they could not afford to keep the fence in proper condition.  And there was a feral population for awhile.  Another monkey was spotted miles away on the other side of the ranch later that day, and my friend who saw it got it on video.  We never saw monkeys again.  

Also as a young boy, we leased one of Dolph Briscoe's pastures.  I believe it was around Carrizo Springs (the man owned land everywhere).  Well on this place they had alligators on their stock tanks.  I think the idea was they were good for the tanks because they would walk around the bottom and mash the mud/clay so the tank would hold water better.  Well there was no fencing around the tanks.  So you would see those fuckers walking down roads and senderos.  As a little kid, it was kind of scary walking through the brush knowing alligators were around.

Wait - did you shoot that sumbitch monkey or did you let him keep eating your corn? 

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3 minutes ago, ztejas said:

Wait - did you shoot that sumbitch monkey or did you let him keep eating your corn? 

Let him walk.  Had no idea on legality of it.  Really have no desire to shoot a monkey.  Doubt they hurt anything.

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7 minutes ago, Johnny Sack said:

Let him walk.  Had no idea on legality of it.  Really have no desire to shoot a monkey.  Doubt they hurt anything.

I doubt I would shoot a monkey either. Too much personality. 

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34 minutes ago, Brisketexan said:

That was a good f'n day.  Drinking whiskey that night while the boys repeatedly told their "my first deer" stories from that afternoon was about as good as it gets.  And I remember what we each said to the other that night -- I don't care if I ever shoot another deer in my life.  The boys can shoot 'em all.

yes it was...and I've held up my end of that to this day. I haven't shot one since...I let him shoot them all. 

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45 minutes ago, ImissWallyPryor said:

I wish I had saved mine from 1972, only it would have been sponsored by Schmidt, The Brew that Grew with the Great Northwest.

il_fullxfull.300060083.jpg

giphy.gif

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28 minutes ago, Pescado_Rojo said:

yes it was...and I've held up my end of that to this day. I haven't shot one since...I let him shoot them all. 

I shot a buck on a trip I was invited on without him.  And when we hunt together, there's been a time or two when he was done (shot his deer already) that I went out to the blind myself to see if I could get a doe for the freezer.  But otherwise, yep.  We go to the blind together, and he does all the shooting.  And when he got his buck last year....every guy out there was pumped for him.  It's the good stuff.

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I can't wait until he can clean his own deer. That will be even better than when he was big enough to open the gates by himself.

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Just now, Pescado_Rojo said:

I can't wait until he can clean his own deer. That will be even better than when he was big enough to open the gates by himself.

That's a big one.  We had the time this last year, no rush....so with just a little bit of help from me and a lot of coaching from the sidelines, he cleaned his first.  Wasn't surgical, lost some meat....but he did it.  And he'll do it again this year.  Hell, if I shoot a doe, I may make him clean mine as well.  Parental privilege and all that.

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Posted (edited)

My dad always entered my brother and I in the Texas Parks hunting lottery where you get a chance to hunt deer in public parks. One year we won a couple spots. First day, no deer. Second day, waited all morning and right before they came by to pick us up 2 deer popped out of the brush at about 100 yards (a spike and a doe). I shot the spike and it dropped immediately. The doe scattered but within seconds came right back to the dropped deer. I dropped the doe as well. We were allowed to kill one spike and/or one doe and I got to do that within a minute. Never seen my dad more proud. 

Edited by SmokeyTheBear

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5 hours ago, Johnny Sack said:

Let him walk.  Had no idea on legality of it.  Really have no desire to shoot a monkey.  Doubt they hurt anything.

Would have been a better story if the monkey had come into camp and gotten drunk.  Dear Penthouse...

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59 minutes ago, Judge Roybeanbag said:

Would have been a better story if the monkey had come into camp and gotten drunk.  Dear Penthouse...

spacer.png

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7 hours ago, Johnny Sack said:

Let him walk.  Had no idea on legality of it.  Really have no desire to shoot a monkey.  Doubt they hurt anything.

source.gif

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Posted (edited)

When my buddy and I were kids on the Devils Toenail lease up near Llano, the old men would sit around the fire pit near the cookhouse getting plastered.  After a time, a couple of them would tell us to “go run in the cook shack and get a couple ‘pass out chairs’.”  These were the pass out chairs.

spacer.png

We used them for the same purpose later in high school and college.  Just put your head down for some quiet time. Also, a firecracker put under the seat is really fucking loud.

Edited by Judge Roybeanbag

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Have a couple. The first occurred when Dad and I were dove hunting near China Grove one morning before I had to drive back to Austin for class. We were standing about 50 yards from one another, and this single dove flies in above him. He shoots and misses, and it circles back around towards me. I shoot and miss as well, and it circles back towards him. We repeat this exercise, with the dove circling back and forth and with us missing the dove, until we've both shot our three shells.  The dove flies off unscathed, and we both bust out laughing, yelling to each other about how Gramps (his dad) is laughing at our sorry asses from up above.  Lord knows he probably sent that dove to knock us down a peg.  

The second is also with Dad, this time in 2015. We were at our deer lease down in Oakville, and we were planning on taking a doe out of the group we had seen the previous evening.  We're sitting there bullshitting in the stand (talking about World War II of all things) and waiting for those does to pop out. Out of my window, I see this nice buck starting running down the sendero away from the stand about 15 yards away, and I grab my gun and put it through the window, trying to get a bead on the buck. Dad can't see the deer yet when I pull my gun up, and he's wondering what the hell I'm doing, as he doesn't see anything at the feeder that's 150 yards down the sendero. A second or two later, in his words, he "saw antlers come into view in the window". Well, the deer wasn't stopping, and he was whisper yelling "he's not gonna stop, he's not gonna stop" in my ear. He lets out the loudest grunt he can muster, and the buck turns perfectly broadside, looking back to see where the grunt came from. I squeezed off the round and dropped him right there, and the next thing my dad says is "Great fucking shot, son. Great fucking shot". From first seeing the buck to him being on the ground, it couldn't have been more than 8-10 seconds, and we had never seen that deer before.  Funny how hunting works sometimes. Now I get to see him hanging in my office every day.

 

 

 

cc39b03c55e821695f0c6e1ec46600fa.jpg

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5 hours ago, Noogman said:

Have a couple. The first occurred when Dad and I were dove hunting near China Grove one morning before I had to drive back to Austin for class. We were standing about 50 yards from one another, and this single dove flies in above him. He shoots and misses, and it circles back around towards me. I shoot and miss as well, and it circles back towards him. We repeat this exercise, with the dove circling back and forth and with us missing the dove, until we've both shot our three shells.  The dove flies off unscathed, and we both bust out laughing, yelling to each other about how Gramps (his dad) is laughing at our sorry asses from up above.  Lord knows he probably sent that dove to knock us down a peg.  

The second is also with Dad, this time in 2015. We were at our deer lease down in Oakville, and we were planning on taking a doe out of the group we had seen the previous evening.  We're sitting there bullshitting in the stand (talking about World War II of all things) and waiting for those does to pop out. Out of my window, I see this nice buck starting running down the sendero away from the stand about 15 yards away, and I grab my gun and put it through the window, trying to get a bead on the buck. Dad can't see the deer yet when I pull my gun up, and he's wondering what the hell I'm doing, as he doesn't see anything at the feeder that's 150 yards down the sendero. A second or two later, in his words, he "saw antlers come into view in the window". Well, the deer wasn't stopping, and he was whisper yelling "he's not gonna stop, he's not gonna stop" in my ear. He lets out the loudest grunt he can muster, and the buck turns perfectly broadside, looking back to see where the grunt came from. I squeezed off the round and dropped him right there, and the next thing my dad says is "Great fucking shot, son. Great fucking shot". From first seeing the buck to him being on the ground, it couldn't have been more than 8-10 seconds, and we had never seen that deer before.  Funny how hunting works sometimes. Now I get to see him hanging in my office every day.

 

 

 

cc39b03c55e821695f0c6e1ec46600fa.jpg

Great buck and awesome story.

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My first time deer hunting, and I think it was father’s too, I was 10 out at a ranch my dad’s friend owned. He told us we could take a doe, which I did, but before I shot the doe there was a 10 point buck maybe 50 feet away. Afterward we told him about it and he said “damn you should have taken it” He was massive and one of my biggest regrets, but it also wasn’t my property.

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I was 5 and my father had a little piece of land he was leasing to hunt just outside of town.   Small property with enough room for one stand only.   We would head out there when I got off school and sit.  I would do my homework and etc while he hunted for deer.   He had a youth break open 410 with a bead sight and a pack of slugs for me in case a hog ever came out.   This was before they were prevalent in our area.  I had never even seen one before.   

One evening I had finished up my work and saw a huge black animal come out about 50 yards away.   Immediately tapped my dad and told him a bear came out.   He corrected me and told me that was a hog and I was going to get a shot at him.   He got me all positioned correctly and set up with my gun.   He pulled out his rifle and said he would back me up for more firepower (basically assuming I would miss).   Told me to fire whenever I was ready.   Bam Bam.  Hog drops.   I was super excited and ran over to the hog.   My dad got my grandfather to drive out and help load it using a rope and the truck headache rack as a pulley.  Ended up being a little over 200lbs.

We get him home and hung up to start skinning him and my dad keeps asking if I think i hit him.  I am adamant that I did.   We could see one exit hole right behind the front shoulder and as we get skin down to that area we see a bullet hole right through a rib.    Everyone figures that is my fathers wound.  Keep skinning down and skip one rib and another bullet hole.   I started jumping up and down yelling "I told you I told you".  Everyone was shocked.   

We had that deer stand for another 20 something years.  Moved it all over the state but could always see the alphabet I scribbled on to one of the side walls beneath the window while sitting on the floor doing homework.  

This year my son will be 3 1/2 months for opening weekend this year.   Told my wife I'll be bringing him out to camp the night before the season.  No plans on hunting that opening morning and will probably get Mom to pick him up Saturday during that day, but I have never missed "Buck Eve" with my dad at deer camp since I was 5 and want to start the same tradition with him.   

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I’ve got a lot of fun memories of being the “bird dog” for my dad and his buddies. They would shoot and drink beer and I’d go chase down the birds. It is kinda sad though as almost all those properties are now subdivisions 

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3 minutes ago, cknight said:

I’ve got a lot of fun memories of being the “bird dog” for my dad and his buddies. They would shoot and drink beer and I’d go chase down the birds. It is kinda sad though as almost all those properties are now subdivisions 

My father picked me up from kindergarten to go on a "business trip" with him the day before dove season to do precisely this.   It was my first experience at hunting camp.  Would stand by an adult while they shot and then ran to grab the birds.  Ran over the next closest adult and rinse/repeat.  

I was given a list of rules when going out there/coming home and #1 was don't tell mom how good we ate out there.  Had to make it sound like we were roughing it. One rule he forgot hand down to me was don't bring hunting camp language back with you.  Things got real dicey when the day we got back I asked my mother to "pass the fucking mustard".  

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