my dad

only a pointer

only a pointer

Banned
As season gets closer i remember my dad and me walking fields killing birds terrible dogs but still having fun.My dad and me would knock on doors asking for permission in mo and lots of times have lots of luck.one story i will never forget and tell people is my dad could eight out of ten times get us permission,well one day we pull up on a piece of property and my dad leans over to me and says should i pull my teeth out kid and get us permission lol
i say heck ya.My dad could walk up help farmers with equipment tell stories this was even after the farmer said no it was amazing i wish my dad was still here could hunt all day and simply ware me out!
 
It was my dads 79th birthday yesterday. He is having surgery to remove his last two toes from one of his feet from his diabetes. I dread the day of his passing, both my parents. God help me get through it when the time comes.

I hope to still get him in the deer stand to kill one more deer this year.

For all those who have lost their father or mother...I feel your pain.

Enjoy the days with them well you can. Everyday is irreplaceable

Thanks for sharing
 
My dad still likes to go along. He can't walk to far, but last year he walked a 1/2 mi along side one buffer strip. Most of the time he blocks or spots where the birds are running out ahead of me. He likes to watch the dogs. I remember the times when we couldn't keep up with our dad's and they would stop and wait for us. About 5yrs ago, me, dad and Duke were hot on birds. Duke, my lab, would stop and sit about every 15 ft and wait for the old man to catch up. I'll never forget that.
 
Come deer season and all us boy gathered around the back porch talking about the day's events and my dad would say, "Boys, I've killed every deer I ever shot at. Never missed a one!" What wasn't said was that Pap never cared for deer hunting and had never pulled down on one.

What he did do was teach me how to still hunt for squirrel, find a rabbit, and always chase them bobwhites! I don't remember, as a boy, not having at least two good setter dogs in the kennels out back and every Saturday of bird season and any available afternoons were in the fields behind those dogs with Pap.

We had one gun in our humble old farmhouse, Grandad's ol M97 12 gauge.
When I was about 12 Pap got him a M11 Remington 16ga. and he got me a bred Hampshire sowhog. I had to feed and water that ol sow twice a day; when she farrowed I had to take care of and later find buyers for the pigs.
When the pigs sold Pap took my money and me and we traveled to his brothers house and I was shown a like new Rem. 11-48 twenty gauge which I bought for the princely sum of 45 dollars. Hard earned pig money!

I had my first "real birdgun" and Pap told me, The good things are worth working and waiting for."

He is gone now, but I will always remember those days afield with him and the life lessons he taught me. I only hope I may put those same feelings in my grandsons who now, or soon, will hunt with me.

Bob M.
 
I just got back from Wichita where I had to take my dad for hopefully his last cancer surgery. He had another growth but after it was removed doc looked at it and doesn't think it looked cancerous, we'll get the results from the biopsy today. I haven't walked a field with my dad since 1991, since he had his first knee injury/surgery. It is now 2009 and he's right at 17 surgeries into it but it looks like I may get my wish and get dad out in the field this year. Since the surgeries we've road hunted together and chased numerous coyotes together but he was never able to walk for very long and his legs would give out. I think that my dad and I had and still have our best memories chasing coyotes together, man the stories we have. One of my fondest memories was when our bunch was running Sitner's Grass Patch just on the North side of Cow Creek and we were running it east. Tony Oberle yelled "he's going east" and dad downshifted the Jeep and we took off through the grass, about 5 seconds later Ron Hickel yelled "hell there's another one heading back west through the creek". Dad slowed down, turned the jeep around and made that ole' 304 sing. All of a sudden we were at the end of the Grass patch with about a 20 foot slope to get onto the Raymond Blacktop. Dad downshifted the Jeep into 2nd (it was a 3 speed) feathered the clutch and cut the wheel so we'd hit the slope at an angle. The Jeep came up on 2 wheels but dad got all 4 back on the ground and when we hit the Blacktop we left 4 skid marks from spinning the tires. We made it around to the bridge a mile to the West and shut the Jeep off, Dad grabbed his .243 and I grabbed my 1300. Sure enough here came the coyote on a dead run toward us and he had no idea we were there. I ended that chase with a well placed shot of 3" BB's in the back of the coyote. My dad and I gave each other our traditional high five and I notched another tic mark on the dash of the Jeep. I had 35 tic marks on that dash when dad sold her. Dad just turned 68 but he said that he feels like a kid again when we go coyote hunting together. I'm hoping that next year I can bring my son along with my dad and I on his first coyote hunt. Of course we won't be running through any fields but nothing less it will be a memory that will last a lifetime.
 
My dad's 78, suffers from a bit of dementia and is slowing down. He's hard of hearing, too and so can't keep track of hunting partners and dogs. Add up the issues and it's a tough go to hunt. We have an annual grouse weekend coming up and he's really looking forward to it. He can't pound the brush with us anymore and walks the trails. His shooting opportunties are few and sometimes I'm glad because I worry about him shooting someone. He always said "it's hell getting old" and watching him, I agree. He also always said "Live hard, die young and have a good looking corpse". A while back I asked him what happened to that? We shared a good laugh at that one. He lived hard, sure isn't gonna die young, etc. Mom's been gone over 7 years and I think about her every day. As long as Dad wants to go, he's welcome and we're glad to have him there, warts and all.
 
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