[58thecat]

Originally Posted by Lornce

I was 13 and living in Sudbury Ontario (60 years ago now). Dad took me to a deer camp on Manitoulin Island, presented me with my first belt knife, a D.H. Russell Canadian. Still remember the incurable colour of the fall trees in Red, Orange and Yellow. There where 4 other seniors there and it was awesome, had my first beer and turned a bit green on my first cigar. Neat old log cabin with a pot bellied wood stove and a few bunks. Place was fascinating with hunting pictures and paraphernalia on the walls.

Hunted with Dad the first day with no luck but loved it just being there. Second day I went out with one of the other old guys who set me up setting against a big old maple tree who's branches almost touched the ground so a natural blind. A couple of hours after he left me, watching chipmunks and Grouse pass by a nice 4 point White tail danced down the trail about 40 yards from me. put a 30-30 behind the shoulder and he went down. Dad took a 6 pointer the same day but everyone made a fuss about me and I had to tell the story of my hunt a few times. Would give anything to be there again, as the memory warms me every time.

Still have the Winchester, which will go to my oldest and the horns that I hang that old gun on, the knife is still in use.

I can vision this hunt, awesome.