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Old 01-29-2023, 06:32 PM
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Phil McCracken Phil McCracken is offline
 
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Default Remember your first "Big Game" Hunt?

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?...
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Old 01-29-2023, 06:54 PM
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I didnít go as far as you did! But I do remember who took me out, with my dad. And what we seen, lots of whitetail deer. And remember the white flags they sent running away, as clear as it was yesterday. As a young kid it was unreal to see. Never forget it. He and his friend were using .303 British rifles. No animals were taken but it was to die for!
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Old 01-29-2023, 07:34 PM
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I never did kill a big game animal with my father present , but I remember my first solo big game hunt , and I remember the first clients I guided back in the 70's like it was yesterday.
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Old 01-29-2023, 09:13 PM
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I was with Jacenbeers and GreenCanada on here. We shot a couple deer on a property and had a good time. I still hunt the property to this day. Learned a lot from them.
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Old 01-30-2023, 06:19 AM
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Dense thick rain forest, 12 gauge shotgun, buckshot....wet...tired...determined...visions of how it will play out....
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Old 01-30-2023, 06:46 AM
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I was 12 years old, and was carrying a 30-30, friends went into a bluff to drive out some deer, and my father and I were placed on the likely escape routes. A few does came out at around 250 yards away, and I fired three times at one doe. After the third shot, the doe collapsed and I had my first deer. It was pretty much a fluke, as the deer were expected to be much closer, but one bullet bullet had hit the running doe in the neck. These days, I would never allow a new hunter to even attempt to shoot in that situation, but it worked out for me that time.The following year, I was upgraded to an Ithaca 243, with a 4x scope.
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Old 01-30-2023, 09:52 AM
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Also 12 years old hunting moose with Dad and 30-30 win. Young bull moose I shot, hit him in the neck and knocked him back over. Still remember hunt to this day. PS My dad was good moose hunter, one time last day of season we shot 5 moose that day, only about 14 never so tired of skinning moose.
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Old 01-30-2023, 10:02 AM
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I was 12 when I went on my first hunting trip with my Dad and 2 of my uncles.

Dad and I left with his pick up and drove an hour to my first uncles farm. In the back of Dad's truck, we had the canvas tent and all of our gear including a wheelbarrow. Rifles hanging in the rear window. A 303 british enfield and a Cooey 22 repeater. Some dry goods and sleeping gear.

When we pulled into my uncles yard he had the homemade camper on the back of his 3 ton Dodge grain truck. That camper was an 18 foot long and 7 foot high and the full width of the grain truck. 4 bunks in the front. a dining area in the middle and a cooking and drying area at the entrance. Coleman cook stove and heater. Sliding window and roof vents.

Everyone was there. I jumped in the grain truck with uncle Ron, and Dad and my other uncle headed north to the moose camp with the 3/4 ton. They were heading to clear the trail if needed for the truck camper.

Two and a half hours later we arrived at camp. Dad was there with the tent set up. They had used this camp in the past it had a meat pole and a bit of firewood from the previous years. We pulled in and parked beside the cook tent. We completed the camp set up. Rolling out bed rolls and mattresses.

Rest of the day was spent scouting and looking for sign with some calling. I packed the cooey for grouse. I don't recall shooting any grouse this trip. But I got to pack a gun.

The next day up early breakfast and off for more calling. 3rd moring an answer, that night a moose in camp. That's when I figured out what the wheelbarrow was for. No quads, argos, etc. we had a wheelbarrow, that the quarters went into and they pushed it out of the bush.

Two more days and one more moose and camp was packed up and we came home.

Repeated this a few more times, packing the 303 when I turned 14. Wish I could turn back the time. Those 3 men have passed on, they hunted and fished their whole lives together.

BW
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Old 01-30-2023, 10:27 AM
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We had moved to Calgary 4 years prior from grande prairie and hadnít been hunting since. My brother and I would ask my dad every year to go out, but always had the same response that we donít have anywhere to go. Finally after being a pain in his side he talked to his old hunting partner who used to hunt near Calgary and asked him to bring us out. That year my dad drew a cow moose tag and my brother a bull, I was only 12 at the time and wasnít able to hunt back in those days so no tags for me.

We took a few days off of school and met up with dads old partner and his brother in law at a local restaurant. After breakfast and some talking we headed out to their spot in the West Country. On the way in to the property we were hunting, we drove behind dads hunting partner John and his brother in law George, and soon spotted a cow and calf moose.

Dad flashed his lights and stopped his red dodge caravan to get their attention, as they hadnít seen the moose. We all bailed out of our vehicles and looked on at the moose. George said, ďno we better pass there is cabin in the trees not farĒ he didnít think it was safe to shoot. We watched them for awhile and then they headed off on their way. We spent the rest of the day at the back end of the property but didnít see anything further.

The next day we hunted the other end of the property. My brother joined George and I went with dad and John further away. First thing in the morning we hear a shot then about a half hour later 2 more shots.

We met up with them about a hour later and George had taken a decent 4x4 whitetail. They started telling us the first shot they had missed a massive whitetail. They described this deer as a absolute monster and George was quite ****ed that he missed the old warrior.

The next few days turned up no moose or anymore deer. We decided that we would head out again the next Saturday and continue our search for the elusive bullwinkle. That day I spent hunting with dad and John, and Corey with George. Near the end of the day I was walking with dad and John, when dad spotted a couple deer go into what become known for the next many years as ďthe circle bushĒ. The bush was a section of bush about 100 yards by 100 yards in the middle off a cut block. We decided that dad would go to where the deer entered and I would go with John on the other side and see if anything came out.

We waited for dad to get to the other side and then started walking. Shortly after we saw the distinct flag of a whitetail deer running through the trees, dad had pushed the deer to us. The deer saw us and continued through the trees to towards the end of the bush. John tapped my leg and said ď come onĒ. We started to slowing jog to the other end. After a few steps a whitetail buck emerged, hopped the fence and stopped 150 yards in front of us in a cut block. John quickly raised his gun and fired. The deer immediately dropped and didnít even flinch.

All I could see was a deer antler laying on some dead logs. ď did I get himĒ John asked? ďYes I can see his antlerĒ I remarked. ď are you sure I got himĒ? ďYes heís right thereĒ, I pointed towards the buck. John still wasnít sure but we walk towards the deer. I donít think I blinked the whole walk over to the buck, i was afraid I would lose sight of him and we wouldnít find the deer, so I kept my eye fixated on the antler.

We finally got to the deer and John was ecstatic. The deer was old huge buck with a drop tine off one antler. I was equally excited as this was the first big game kill I had ever been a part of.

Dad met up with us a took some pics then we Corey and George found us some time later. This was the huge deer that George had missed a few days prior. Needless to say the, seasoned hunter George was a little miffed that John had got the huge deer he missed.

That year we never did get our moose but we continued to hunt that property for years after and harvested many animals. Both my brother and I took our first deer and moose from there and dozens of other animals. We became good friends with the rancher but eventually the husband passed and the ranch got to be too much for his wife, so it was sold and we had to find new hunting grounds.

With John getting up in age he decided to give me the mount of the buck and here is a pic of it in my man cave. Maybe one day Iíll get a deer that matches the size of it.
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Old 01-30-2023, 11:13 AM
Grizzly Adams1 Grizzly Adams1 is offline
 
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Must have been 12, Dad knew the guy that owned the V-V ranch by Wardlow, 36 sections as I recall. Actually the first big game hunt for both of us, not something ordinary people did in Europe. He did manage to bag a little whitetail in the willows of the Red Deer river. 16 when I struck out on my own, I worked summers for some people that owned a remote ranch near Millarvile, vastly different from today, Dad insisted no gun for me until I was 16, but 10. wasn't a lot of money, Rib Tor had barrels of LEs and no PAL required. My first sporterization and hid it in my closet. Came November, I was stalking through the poplar, nice Mule deer buck came out of the trees same time as I did, I still have the mount.

Grizz
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Old 01-30-2023, 11:52 AM
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I remember mine well! Got up a 5:00 AM, drove to a quarter I had permission on, walked/waited around for several hours without seeing a thing. Decided to pack it in, and realized I'd locked my keys in the truck. It'll be fun they say....
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Old 01-30-2023, 02:02 PM
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I was 16 I think. Went Elk and Moose hunting with my dad and his friend to the area we still hunt today.
There was a brand new seismic line put in during the previous winter. I was walking this line, bored out of my skull and quite disappointed. Haven't seen anything all week, yet dad and Jim are telling stories each night about all the critters they have seen.
Then on this seismic line, 150yds ahead, a perfect young bull moose walks out broadside. I panicked, dropped to the ground. Peeked up over the grass and glassed it. Its a bull! A take my backpack off, and chamber a round in my moms 270 i was borrowing. Get up on one knee, and shoot! Nothing. Miss. I gather myself, the moose doesn't have a care in the world. Take another shot, again a miss. Frustrated, i crawl over to the timber windrow and find a rest. Take another shot, miss again. In total had 7 cracks at him before he finally moved off.
Super frustrated at myself. I went back to camp and waited for dad. They showed up and I told them what happened. We figure we better go have a look and see if there was any sign. Spent the next couple hours poking around and found nothing. Back at camp dad asks me to shoot a target, 50yds. Miss. WTF! He takes the rifle and shoots, miss. What the H! He walks up to 25yds, miss. Now he's getting mad. He looks at the gun and we see the problem. One of the scope mounts is off! I was pretty much shooting into the dirt.
Now, I always take at least one practice shot to make sure the gun is sighted in. Funny thing was that was my first trip and first crack and a bull moose. Jim had been going out with dad for 10yrs before that and had never seen one, let alone get a crack at one.
I still walk that line and remember that morning, hoping another bull walks out in front of me.
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Old 01-30-2023, 03:24 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Phil McCracken View Post
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?...
Thanks for the write-up. Almost gets ya a little emotional remembering where it all started, ya know? As far as a letter to get a kid out of school now adays? They hardly go to school as is now. Hahaha
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Old 01-30-2023, 04:30 PM
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Standing on top of a mountain freshly 14 years old (had to be 14 when I first started hunting) on opening day of sheep season. Book ram down that afternoon
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Old 01-30-2023, 04:51 PM
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Standing on top of a mountain freshly 14 years old (had to be 14 when I first started hunting) on opening day of sheep season. Book ram down that afternoon
Ok fine, you win!
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Old 01-30-2023, 05:07 PM
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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.
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Old 01-30-2023, 05:42 PM
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Sitting there about eight years old waiting for some action. Dad had the 30-06 woodsmaster loaded for bear.
He told me of a hunt before I was born. He had his 32-40 and a bear came in to 25y. It could smell him but not see him so it stood up. The bear dropped on the spot from a bullet to the spine. The bullet was found on the ground and itís on a keychain.
Getting darker now and I fall asleep. Boom, Iím awake now. So dark I canít see anything. Bear went into the woods never to be seen again.
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Old 01-30-2023, 05:54 PM
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Hunted birds with my grandpa until I was 16. Nobody else in the family hunted, he wasn't able to tramp around much so mostly he would drive me around on the back roads on Saturday afternoons (no Sunday hunting) I shot the odd grouse on the road. At 16 you could hunt small game and birds on your own, Grandpa wasn't able to go anymore so I was on my own. Where I grew up (N.B.) at the time you couldn't hunt big game until you were 18. I hunted deer that year by myself and got a forkhorn whitetail on the last day of the season. Dragged it probably a mile to the car. Waited for a passerby to help me load and tie it to the roof of my 75 Chevy Nova. Went out to my girlfriends, her dad was a farmer. He showed me how to skin and cut it up, made fun of me for my gut job. At least I got some of the guts out.... 45 years ago.
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Old 01-30-2023, 07:22 PM
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Some very excellent stories shared so far.

Let's hear some more boys and girls!...
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Old 01-30-2023, 08:22 PM
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At 11 I went moose hunting in BC with my Dad, grandpa, and brother to an area my family hunted every year since my grandpa was young. There was also my Dadís cousin and a family friend we were meeting there. It was always the same camp and an area that the family had a long history of success in.

We arrived mid day and set up camp. I was given the option to relax for the afternoon of go out and glass a few sloughs for the afternoon. As a kid on my first big game hunt of course I chose to go glassing.

We drove up to an area where we could glass a long stretch of the slough. Within 15min we spotted a little bull moose. We work are way to the opposite shore of the bull about 150yards away. I rest up on a high stump with my Dadís 270 and my Dad and grandpa tell me if you are solid take the shot. I fired and hit the bull soiled and it only slightly buckled. My grandpa said shoot him again we donít want him to go far so I let go two more shots and the bull stumbled then dropped after the 3rd.

Then next part I will remember clear as day my grandpa turned to my dad and said I donít remember there being any roads on the other side. My Dad responded there definitely is no road over there

We head back to camp grab a giant box of rope, some pulleys, chest waders and my dadís cousin and family friend followed in their truck. My dad crossed the slough in the dark with one end of the rope and tied it to the bull. The rope was ran through a pulley on a tree to another pulley on my dads truck to his cousinís truck. When my dad flashed his light to say he was clear his cousin drove pulling the bull across the slough. Even with a group of experienced moose hunters helping and being prepared with the right gear we didnít get back to camp until after midnight

My first big game hunt I was successful taking a 3x3 bull moose in less than an hour then experienced hours of recovery. I learned early the hard work comes when you pull the trigger

It was a two week hunt and I spent the rest of it shooting grouse and fishing

When I first started big game hunting I had a lucky horseshoe and a curse. I went on to fill my tag on the first day for the next 6 big game hunts I went on but every single one was a recovery out of some nasty spot

Funny thing is I canít remember my wifeís phone number but I can remember every successful hunt lol
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Old 01-30-2023, 09:08 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by glen moa View Post
Sitting there about eight years old waiting for some action. Dad had the 30-06 woodsmaster loaded for bear.
He told me of a hunt before I was born. He had his 32-40 and a bear came in to 25y. It could smell him but not see him so it stood up. The bear dropped on the spot from a bullet to the spine. The bullet was found on the ground and itís on a keychain.
Getting darker now and I fall asleep. Boom, Iím awake now. So dark I canít see anything. Bear went into the woods never to be seen again.
Awesome story. Love that you were 8 years old on a bear hunt too.
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Old 01-31-2023, 06:04 AM
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Originally Posted by Lornce View Post
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.
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  #23  
Old 01-31-2023, 12:07 PM
ram crazy ram crazy is offline
 
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Drew an antelope tag first year hunting and was done hunting in about 10 mins. half mile from the house.
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  #24  
Old 01-31-2023, 03:12 PM
-JR- -JR- is offline
 
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Back in the day in the early 70s my dad and his few friends would hunt in the hunting cabin of the owner of Zeidler Forestry products . When Zeidler was to old to hunt he sold the hunting equipment to my dad and his friends, and they could use the cabin any time . My first trip with them was very exciting . There was only one road that went south between Edson and Hinton . That road ended at the cabin . After that it was un touch cutlines . Those were the days before ATV were even built . We all jumped in to a 1965 British Land Rover that was built out of aluminum . This think had balloon tires on it . I remembered jumping out of the back to help push it up a hill and i was hip deep in snow and this thing was just floating on top . Just 4x4 all over the country side made the trip for me . We never did get any big game that week . I really wanted to shot something with the old army riffle . But we did mange to shoot around 21 Jack Rabbits with 22s which you don't see anymore in the bush . Just small cotton bunnies nows. Few years later I bought a Rem.30-06 auto and the whole crew hunted at the end of Virgina hills road then across the goose river . Those were the days again . First week of opening season it was open season for cow moose . Then only bull moose was allowed We pulled out 3 cows in the first two days . We went back every years after that and filled our tags . If anyone knows that area ,thats where the biggest Moose of Alberta was taken from around 1979 . on the old air strip along the goose river . And still is #1
Those were the days .
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  #25  
Old 02-05-2023, 12:26 AM
Edmonton resident Edmonton resident is offline
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Quote:
Remember your first "Big Game" Hunt?
yes i do 14 years old cocky as hell on the range i was good.

out in the field my gun turned into a over and under gun live and learn
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  #26  
Old 02-05-2023, 01:55 AM
JD848 JD848 is online now
 
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In the early 70's 2 guys were allowed one moose tag,no draw .

Went out with a good freind and we arrived at a lake where I had scouted before the season a week before .We split up and I walked towards the lake and all of a sudden a bunch of geese started making a pile of noise and I seen them fly off a mile away .

I thought what spooked those geese so I let out a few calls or what I thought were calls. Within a minute a loud call replied almost like a deep barking noise ,the hair on my head stood straight up.

Gave a very low grunt almost a bawling sound I heard him coming loud and clear maybe 500 yrds away , it was a cold clear morning and the closer he got the harder my heart pounded . The sound of busting branches and fallen wood with his legs were like gun shots.

I hid behind a large up rooted stump and waited, at one point I thought he was right in front of me so I popped my head up ,no moose.

Then 30 yrds to my right he busted a balsam with his horns and I stood up rifle on shoulder and fired . He took of running with at top of that tree in his horns and split. how he got to my right was crazy ,so big yet he was trying to circle me to get down wind ,didn't figure this out for a few more years.

At the age of 16 this was my first large animal I had shot at ,so I was so excited I walked to where I thought he was standing when I shot, no blood.

I went back to where I shot and realized I was off by 20 feet,so I walked up found a blood trail and found my 54 inch bull 75 yards away .All I could do was stand there saying holly molly about 30 times .

Camp where I was working was 15 minutes away ,drove back grabbed a skidder and went and got him. One of many to come for decades ,the bug had entered my brain big time .Best days of my life by far .Nothing beats that rush of hearing them coming in on a call .Still fires me up .

I can remember bringing the meat home to my mother , she cooked everything in town for me so I ate like a King that winter along with my hunting bubby .Roasts,meat pies ,home made beans. With only a radio and the sound of the wood stove crackling at night ,life was great .

Getting hungry writing this.

Cheers
JD

Last edited by JD848; 02-05-2023 at 02:00 AM.
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  #27  
Old 02-05-2023, 07:32 AM
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35 whelen 35 whelen is offline
 
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My first big game hunt I shot a button buck white tail off of a haystack in the Interlake of Manitoba 12 years old

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  #28  
Old 02-05-2023, 11:18 AM
Pathfinder76 Pathfinder76 is online now
 
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I remember the first big game animal I shot. But hunting is what Iíve done literally my entire life. So sorting that out is difficult.
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  #29  
Old 02-05-2023, 11:48 AM
eyeflyer eyeflyer is offline
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I was raised on a farm in east central Alberta and got my first deer with my 30-30 a whitetail buck about 3 miles from our farm. 50 years later I moved back to this area and still hunt and kill game within a mile or two of where I shot my first buck. Two of my sons and my eldest grandson got their first deer in this general area as well. The year after shooting my first deer I traded my 30-30 in for a Rem pump 30-06, still have and use this rifle today.
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  #30  
Old 02-05-2023, 08:32 PM
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reddeerhunter reddeerhunter is offline
 
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Default First big game x 2

16 years old. Dad put in our draws and myself and my brother were drawn for Caribou. Off we go in our Ford Taurus station wagon to harvest a couple of Stags. After creeking the old wagon down 30kms of brutal gravel trails. We hit destination caribou. 5 minute walk and I shot a caribou. Velvet horned dark caribou, I was over the moon. Meat for winter.
Dad says, well Conan. "Its your turn". Another 20 minute walk and now we have two caribou down. Beautiful white colored Bou with an amazing rack.

Sad part is photo ops were non existent then. But the memory is as clear as a picture.

Taurus hit every rock on the trek home. It was so different back then. I miss them days. Simple times.

Great stories all. Keep em comin.
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