For most of us, our hunting seasons are done this year. So a little of reminiscing...
This is not about going with your dad, mother, uncle, ant, brothers, sisters, for a day hunt shooting chickens, rabbits, squirrels, etc...etc.
It is about your first "Big Game" hunt.
I remember my first "Big Game" hunt.
I was 12 years old, and my dad (bless his soul) was a member of a private hunting club in Quebec. It was called "Valentine". Not for the rich by the way, as he wasn't. Mostly guys renting the land. Back then, there anyway, the guys paid for this privilege through the Province. As a member, one had to go by the Provincial rules of that time (ie. road maintenance within the boundaries, times to go hunting and where within the club boundaries, etc). Anyway I digress...
So that year I guess he felt it was my time. He wrote a note to my teacher basically saying I would be gone for a week. Absolutely no problems there. Try that today!...hehe.
So off we go to moose camp. I recall going North from our place to an area called "Mattawin", where we had to take a ferry across a river. I could be wrong with the names. Then into the Laurentian Shield.
On the drive up, dad kinda told me what to expect, and bluntly told me I would be the Camp "female dog" for the week. I of course had no problems with that. I was absolutely stoked!
So we get to Camp. I recall a large log building that could probably facilitate about 10 guys. There were a few spike camps in the area, mostly accessible by canoes, but I never experienced that part. What a beautiful place I thought.
Dad met up with his old buddies, shot the poop, and started planning the next day's hunt. I laid on a top bunk listening to the guys talking about old hunting stories the first night. I thought it was great...
My dad's main go to rifle was a Winchester Model 94 .32 Special. I know he shot a lot of moose/deer with it. And I was always playing with this thing when he wasn't around. If he knew I did that, my azz would had been kicked.
So there was this other guy in Camp...his name was Saul, which I will always remember.
As a 12 year old, I thought he was pretty cool, but I remember he drank a lot, but stayed in camp when he did. His 4 left fingers were bent right over, and I remember asking him why one day. In his own slow way, he said he was driving his truck one day, windows down, with his elbow out and hand on top of the window. He told be he rolled the truck over, hence the crooked fingers. I believed him at the time, but I eventually realized he was full of manure...hehe
But what I remember the most about Saul was his .348 Win lever action that I admired because the bullets were "bigger" that my dad's gun. He gave me one, but I don't remember where it went. His claim of fame was he always packed his .348 with him wherever he went. Rumor was around camp that one day he went to the outhouse, and while he was sitting there, heard a moose grunt, walked out, and shot it. Not sure if it was a myth or a fact.
So, as mentioned before, I was basically a "female dog", but when the men were out moose hunting, I was allowed,
after my daily chores, to go out and shoot chickens with my dad's Marlin .22 lever (forget the Model now).
So a few days into the hunt, while I was out chicken hunting, I heard 2 distant shots. Went back to camp and waited. Turns out "one" of the guys shot a cow moose near one of the spike camps, and, when one came back to camp, asked if I want to come along. I told him I had to check with dad upon his return. He then told me my dad shot it, and to bring me along. I was pretty excited with that, so way I went.
It was my first time close to a dead moose. Was basically told to grab a leg to help out. Got a little blood on my hands, just like the men (but much more), I was so proud of myself when they told me I did a great job! Funny how one remember these things.
Thinking back, I believe this is when I first got the "bug", and never looked back.
Remember your first Big Game Hunt?...
