Earliest Hunting Memories
General Topic
I was in the stand last weekend and was pondering my early days hunting and thinking back as far as I could remember. I remember walking behind dad in the dark to a homemade wood build stand when I was around 8 years old. I definitely remember the twigs smacking me in the face and stinging while walking behind him. There was the vanilla smell of Cover Up mixed with the smells of fall in the woods. The feeling of being scared of the dark mixed with the security of being with dad. Hearing coyotes howling and thinking they were only yards away. Then seeing my first deer walk right by us without a clue we were watching and my dads large grin with a pat on the head. My fondest and earliest hunting memories. I was hooked on being in the woods and it set may values for everything wild. I’m so thankful he let me tag along.
What are your earliest hunting memories?
Learning to hunt on my own. Coming from a non hunting/outdoorsy family somehow I developed an interest on my own. My family supported me and aided me to actually getting in the woods to hunt so I appreciate that. I guess I remember a lot of mistakes I made that I quickly learned from and haven't made again. I am looking forward to teaching my almost 3 year old everything I know and making the memories that will last a lifetime.
I was thinking about this last week while sitting in a deer stand. I think I was 9 the first time my dad took me and a brother to the woods with him. Dad put us up in a big oak with a large low limb and we sat there while he went a bit further into the woods and got into a hanging stand he had put up. It was evening and as the daylight faded it seemed to my young mind that the woods was coming alive. Every sound was for sure a deer! My brother and I didn't actually see a deer but dad did take a shot at a doe that night but missed. That's my earliest memory of a "deer hunt" and I guess I've been hooked ever since.
Being taken to a northern Michigan deer camp. Loud, Smokey and very few deer or bears shot. Then standing with my dad while we were still hunting with his Bear Grizzly. A group of deer came from left to right and my dad shot right over a deers back. I chased everything that moved with my 15# then 25# Bear fiberglass bows. And single shot 20 gauge. At 10 yrs old, I roamed fields for squirrels, rabbits and pheasants unsupervised.
The very first thing I killed was a barn swallow with my BB-Gun at about 7 or 8.
First Game animal was rabbit at about 9 with the 22. The simple joys of living on a farm next to a lake...
Hunting squirrels with my friend Randy. He carried a nice Ruger 10/22 and I borrowed my Grandpa's single shot Sears Roebeck .22, made by Marlin, aka "The cat killer". We were feared by every squirrel near and far.
Listening to the light rain on the roof, knowing the fur was "running", and my traps would be full come morning.
Shooting a cottontail rabbit with my bb gun when I was six. Dad was combining beans and saw it run into some brush. I was watching from the truck and he got me into range for a shot. That rabbit sealed my fate as a lifelong hunter.
I remember when I was about 7-8 years old. Flushed a grouse and shot at it with my lemonwood bow while it took off. Missed of course. Recall too shooting sparrows with my BB gun about the same time. Got my first rabbit at 10 years of age and haven't looked back (except to reminisce). I'm now 77 so all that was long ago,...would like to go back and do it all again!
Growing up in Colorado Rockies watching my Dad fish and hunt. He took us everywhere. My first gun was a 30-40 Krag which i shot my first Mule Deer Buck and Cow elk. My Dad pass away at a very early age at 50 but he installed the drive and passion in us to love the outdoors. I still fly fish with my Dad bamboo rod . The 30-40 Krag still in the gun safe which I have not shot since i turn 17 turning to archery. I pheasant with my dad 12 gauge pump which i love I wish my kids had a chance to meet him. I show old 8mm films to my kids and always have wet eyes. Great memories
When I was a kid you couldn't legally hunt in PA until you were 12.
My dad would take me running coons with dogs at night, running his trap line and sitting with him as a spectator for squirrels from the time my legs would let me keep up. I had to keep my grades up and not get in trouble at school or home to be able to go with him and that fact probably kept me out of a lot of trouble and kept my grades pretty good.
My cousin and I were 12 when his dad took us out on our first deer hunt. It felt like we walked for miles and miles (most likely couple hundred yards).
He dropped me off in the pitch dark and told me to stay right there until he came back to get me at lunch time.
I was scared to death holding my dad's single shot 410 shot gun with a slug chambered and ready for action.
Every noise was for sure the biggest meanest bear in the woods that I knew was going to kill me. I tried to whistle but my mouth was so dry -- no way. So I sang "row, row, row your boat" over and over till it got light enough to see.
That was 54 years ago and is as vivid as if it was yesterday.
First: Easter Sunday dad took mom and me flying (bush plane) to hike in the spring snow. My sister is 4 years younger than me and I can't even recall if she was with us, if so she would have been just a baby because I could only have been 5 or 6 at the oldest. We tromped around in the snow and at one point my dad spotted a pure white snowshoe hare. One of the things that gives them away is their shiny black eye on a white background. He asked me if I wanted to shoot it with the pellet rifle. Sure! But I was too short to see it. He balanced me on a tangle of fallen logs so I could see it. I was way to small to hold up the rifle by myself. I grabbed the rear and he supported the front end and slowly moved it around until I told him the rabbit was in the open sights. I pulled the trigger and killed my first meal for the family. We have an old faded photograph of me holding it by the ears and it's as tall as I am. They teased me for years that I must have killed the Easter Bunny because how many rabbits are as tall as I was?!
Squirrel hunting with my dad and younger brother it was like Christmas morning couldn’t sleep and up way earlier than we were supposed to.Just so many storylines great memories.Good luck Lewis
Waling farms in the winter time pounding jackrabbits. My dad would have me walk the inside to squirt them out to him. Great times. It's all I wanted to do, and I would cry if we couldn't go because there was a blizzard. Didn't matter that we can't see past the hood of the truck why can't we go Dad?!
I devoured bow hunting magazines and decided a few years after that first rabbit I was to be a bowhunter. I raised hell on the carp and buffalo and tried to bowhunt rabbits. I was finally successful during a December hunt on our farm. Shooting that rabbit with my bow was the biggest thing in the world to me!
Second: I was probably 6 or 7, mom and dad took me and younger sister hunting. Think it was mom killed a cow moose. Snow on the ground and really cold. Me and little sis sat on top of the carcass as they butchered because it was nice and warm LOL
Duck hunting with my dad along the NC coast. I remember piles of bluebills & redheads that would fill the back of a pickup.
Squirrel hunting with my great uncle using his .410 pump. Fond memories..
Rabbit hunting with my dad when I was six.
Third: When I was 8 my dad brought me mountain goat hunting. We landed on one side of a river and goats were on the opposite side up a mountain. Dad donned chest waders, put me on his shoulders and crossed to the other side. He had to walk gingerly to keep the top of his waders above the water and at times I had to raise my feet to keep them dry. On his return trip to retrieve his rifle and backpack he had to turn back as he approached halfway because without my added weight to hold him down he couldn't keep his footing on the bottom. He came back to my side, picked up a large stone in each arm and then crossed with the added weight holding him down. He successfully killed a goat, I didn't do much except accompany him, but I recall everything about the stalk, the shot(s) - goats are tough, and fighting through the alders.
When we got back home my dad said "I suppose if we're going to keep doing these adventures we better teach you how to swim". A local swimming team was just starting up so I joined, went on to become a stellar swimmer, got a college scholarship and met my wife on the college swimming team. That innocent safety suggestion associated with a hunting trip pretty much steered my life to where I am today. Crazy to think how that one little thing set me on a particular course.
1968 - One evening I sat with my dad in an old Jack pine tree and he shot this doe. I got to do the blood trailing - I was 4.
I still have the bow
My father grew up on a farm, but didn’t hunt much in his adulthood. When each of my brothers and I started showing interest we had to follow along on rabbit and squirrel hunts lugging an old double barrel shotgun. Pretty sure it was the heaviest one he could find. Still remember the safety lessons about pointing, carrying and crossing fences.
Heading out the the barn with my older brother, after dark, with BB guns, flashlights, and 6-8 barn cats following us in tow. We would crawl up into the hay mow and shoot dozens of sparrows, plus an occasional pigeon. My brother was 5 years older than me, but he was always very good about taking me along, squirrel hunting, trapping, etc.
Not my first, but the first for my son, Aaron. My brother and I took him rabbit hunting. Boy! It was cold that day!
My Gramps had a cabin in northern MI where my dad, uncles, brother and cousins would stay during rifle season. To me and Gramps, it was our year-round happy place. But during the November season, it was almost magical. I remember barely being able to contain myself waiting for my chance to hunt at 14. Maintaining my grades was difficult between doodling hunting scenes in my folders and daydreaming. Not a lot of deer taken during those years, but a couple of us gravitated towards bowhunting and as the cousins grew up everyone seemed to gradually drift apart. Gramps, my brother and I and an occasional buddy would show up for opening day and any extra time we could scrounge from real life. My Gramps and younger brother are gone now, but I still have my memories, a young son, and a newborn grandson to introduce to deer camp and the magical memories it can inspire.
Lots of time spent fishing and small game hunting with dad but, my first deer hunting memory had dad dropping me off at a huge fallen tree and having me climb up on one of the limbs. I was likely 5' off the ground but it felt like I was i 20' as a young kid. I had a little 6 pointer come really close and I started hyperventilating from the excitement. I was still shaking and breathing crazy when dad came to get me at dark. All he could do was laugh as he knew the fire had been started. Safe to say it's never left. Great post. Thank you for starting it.
Hunting the wrens when I was about 4 or 5 that lived in the thornapple tree with my 10# self-bow. No luck fortunately, and the arrows usually could be found standing up out in the calf pasture just out of the yard.
Hunting English sparrows and mice in the barn with a Sheridan Silver Streak 5mm pellet gun was where I learned to be patient, wait for a good shot and became a proficient hunter...probably around age 8.
I got a ruffed grouse about a 1/4 mile from home (solo hunt) that hung around the hazelnut patch when I was 9. Shot it in the neck with the Sheridan. Dad was pretty proud of me!
Not my earliest hunting memory but this day really stands out. Dad had kept me out of school to go deer hunting. Was a really nasty windy day near Lake Superior. Really shouldn’t have tried to hunt but we had planned this day. On the drive out we were listening to the radio when they said the Edmund Fitzgerald had been lost overnight in that storm. My dad looked like he was kicked in the guts. He knew most of those sailors and there wives. I had seen that ship many times at the dock and it was one of the biggest. Was a somber morning waiting for the sun to rise that day.
Not my earliest hunting memory but this day really stands out. Dad had kept me out of school to go deer hunting. Was a really nasty windy day near Lake Superior. Really shouldn’t have tried to hunt but we had planned this day. On the drive out we were listening to the radio when they said the Edmund Fitzgerald had been lost overnight in that storm. My dad looked like he was kicked in the guts. He knew most of those sailors and there wives. I had seen that ship many times at the dock and it was one of the biggest. Was a somber morning waiting for the sun to rise that day.
Walking behind my dad in the corn field hunting pheasants. Would have been the fall of 1948 or '49. Don't remember if dad shot or not. Do remember having a difficult time keeping up with him. Remember being cold. I still have his shotgun from the hunt. Winchester 1897. My mom bought it at an auction for their anniversary. Stock was cracked and some one had taken copper wire and wrapped the wrist and then melted solder over the copper wire. Good repair as it has lasted to this day. Looked up the serial number and it was built in 1932. It had been shot so much that the checkering had been worn off the hammer.
Terry
I was probably 5 (I'm 62 now) when my Dad took me along grouse hunting. I remember staying at my Grandparent's house in Rice Lake for the weekend and walking a trail covered with leaves of every color. It wasn't until the late 90's that he went deer hunting again. The 2 of us, my friend Dan & his dad. He hunted 2 seasons before dying of cancer in '81.
Rabbit hunting with Dad and his beagle. Weather mattered not and you quit with limit or quitting time. Then duck hunting with a canoe we built. Thanks Dad for all of it.
First hunting memory is at age of 4, squirrel hunting with my dad. Remember walking around to opposite side of tree making noise to scare squirrel back to dad's side of the tree.
Second memory, also 4 years old, was my first "sorta" duck hunting the creek overflow filled, large horseshoe shaped pond on our farm. Dad's friend and his teenage son, dad and I quietly approached the pond early one morning. Splitting up, Dad and friend approached one end of pond while teenager and I approached other end. Quietly topping the bank, I spotted two ducks below us in the water. My teenage companion stood silently while I repeatedly whispered for him to shoot. "Shoot! Shoot," I whispered. First putting his finger to his mouth to silence me, then motioning me to quietly follow him away from the bank; we walked around pond to our fathers. I was really pissed! Reaching our fathers, I blurted out, "Two ducks and he didn't even shoot! Come on, they're still there!" All three busted out laughing. Yeah, that was my introduction to decoys. : )
t-roy, is that a 20 ga. single shot Ithaca buckbuster your holding?
My father never hunted so I had to learn by doing. My grandfather ran a large hunting camp on Madawaski Pond near Quebec Brook and that's all he ever did. When I was ten I got to tell him, one Saturday night, of my first woodchuck with my .22. Have enjoyed many hunting blessings since.
I vividly remember opening morning of my first bow hunt. My dad built me a stand that had a railing around it, so he could hang burlap to help camouflage. I was a little tired so I was resting my head against the railing and when I opened my eyes again, 3 really nice bucks were standing out in front of my stand eating some vegetation. They were out of my comfortable range, so I just sat there and watched them. It was pretty cool and an image that I'll never get out of my head.
Scentman…….It’s an Ithaca (not sure if it’s a Blockbuster for sure), but it’s just a .410. My brother got it when he was 9 or 10. It’s been handed down through the years, and my 85 year old mom still uses it to shoot squirrels and grinners off their deck. In fact, just a couple days ago, I was in a tree stand a couple hundred yards from their house, and heard it bark. I texted my mom “did you get him?” She sent me a thumbs up emoji;-)
I killed a pile of squirrels, rabbits and even 1 pheasant with it.
Thanks for getting back T-roy... blast from the past seeing that pic! Christmas 1972 my dad had a 20 ga. Ithaca under the tree... I could shoot rabbits and grouse from the hip with that single shot lever action! LOL!
Don't know about huntin but I can remember going to the prom with my dad and going home with my mom,
Going squirrel hunting with my dad and great uncle when I was 8. It was also the first time I shot a shotgun.
Going with my Dad deer hunting when we lived in Bangor, Maine.
I was to young to hunt deer but to this day I still like to still hunt/spot-n-stalk thru the dark timber hunting, bow or rifle.
Good luck, Robb
Dad taking me hunting and sitting with our backs against a tree. Dad sleeping having deer after deer go by. Me out of desperation waking Dad up, are you going to shoot one of those deer?
One other time either before or after that hunt Dad and I doing the same thing. He tells me not to move if a deer comes. One did and he reaches over gently touches my leg"Here comes a deer", he says. As it comes into range Dad gets to one knee and shoots his recurve. Not sure if he hit it or not we head back to the car to locate my brother hunting nearby.
We do and find a decent blood trail, it circles back by the parking area where we encounter another hunter. I just saw something very interesting he says. "A couple guys load up this deer in the pick-up didn't field dress , tag it or anything." Yeah stolen. I was with Dad only one other time when he actually shot something probably 20 years later..
Circa 1963, Saturday evening I hear my dad go into the back room come to the kitchen table and hear the shotgun slide out from the case... smell the Hoppees cleaning solvent and I was right there asking... you taking me rabbit hunting?
He had a hunt date with a buddy but my crocodile tears made me the third party... I would get to hang out with my hero. Today would be his 85th birthday... Happy Birthday Norm! He liked Genny I like Wild Tiurkey... toast my dad and all the dads that raised us in the outdoors. Scentman
