Who taught you to hunt?

[westcobbdog]

Growing up in Sandy Springs early 1970's my Dad liked to bird hunt, target practice and fish. Around 77' my parents divorced and I moved to Marietta. A friend at HS and his Dad, both later firemen, were already big deer hunters and I tagged along many times with them. I would say both of them taught me a lot and showed me the ropes. Guess I started at 15 or 16 years old.
RIP to Harry and Whit Whitten..I still think about ol' Whit quite a lot when afield, wishing my friend were with me.

 

[Silver Britches]

I was taught by my dad! My grandpa and uncle also hunted but the one who sat with me since the beginning was dad! He doesn't get to hunt much anymore due to a back injury. He's had 3 surgeries and still isn't right. He can still hunt but not very comfortably.

Pictured below is me in my little mermaid pjs with my brother and my dad in Alabama. The one under is him with me after I shot my first deer also in Alabama and the last one was my dad and I a few years ago in Georgia posing with my husbands buck.

I now share the woods and water with my husband since dad can't go much, but we both are introducing our little girls to the world of hunting and fishing just like he did with me and my father in law did with my husband!

View attachment 1207793

Looks like you also got lucky and only got a little blood on your face too. Most everyone I knew that was hunting back then, all got the full treatment.

 

[krizia829]

Looks like you also got lucky and only got a little blood on your face too. Most everyone I knew that was hunting back then, all got the full treatment.

lol! it was nasty. Had some poop in it too I remember that day like it was yesterday. I ripped the back of my pants climbing over a barb wire fence to recover my doe. Good thing I had like 3 more pants under from how cold I was

 

[Silver Britches]

lol! it was nasty. Had some poop in it too I remember that day like it was yesterday. I ripped the back of my pants climbing over a barb wire fence to recover my doe. Good thing I had like 3 more pants under from how cold I was

Yeah it was nasty! I don't hear of anyone doing this any more. My bloody pics. https://forum.gon.com/threads/lets-see-some-oldies.1032473/post-13776968

 

[sprewett]

Yeah it was nasty! I don't hear of anyone doing this any more. My bloody pics. https://forum.gon.com/threads/lets-see-some-oldies.1032473/post-13776968

I got painted up on my first one! My son will get it. He may think he won't but ole pops is three times stronger than him for now.

 

[Silver Britches]

I got painted up on my first one! My son will get it. He may think he won't but ole pops is three times stronger than him for now.

Be sure to get some pics and vids of it. He'll never forget it.

 

[Gaswamp]

I also have to mention @Gaswamp, he started my boys and me turkey hunting. And we’re not the only ones he’s helped by a long shot.View attachment 1207719View attachment 1207718

thanks, sure have enjoyed sharing my passion with people especially youngins. Really proud of them boys. Now if I can get yall to become stick and string commited for deer

 

[mwood1985]

My pappy. Fought in the Pacific with the 2nd Marine division and came back home to South Carolina and farmed the rest of his life. Dont think I have a single hunting memory that didn't involve his Walkers and one of two Auto 5 12ga shotguns he owned. Mostly his light 12 with a poly choke.

 

[Tight Lines]

Dad, grandfather, and family friends...all over Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas...

 

[basshappy]

No one in my immediate family hunted. So really myself, Dr. Leonard Lee Rue III and Jim Roy taught me to hunt whitetail. Those two men authored a couple of books that gave me great information, coupled with my time spent tracking and photographing animals in the wild provided my foundation. I got a late start at 48 but I dove in and absorbed everything I could. I am still learning and applying, but this is pretty much how I started hunting whitetail.

 

[johnnyk2000]

My Dad took me to the woods. Not sure I could call it hunting, more like poaching but it was fun and I didn’t know any better. Went hunting with my uncle and he taught me the basics and the rest I figured out by reading everything I could. Those early days were interesting

 

[Blackston]

My Dad took me to the woods. Not sure I could call it hunting, more like poaching but it was fun and I didn’t know any better. Went hunting with my uncle and he taught me the basics and the rest I figured out by reading everything I could. Those early days were interesting

I been on a few dad guided poaching trips haha

 

[specialk]

no tradition of the blood smearing where i grew up, but if you slap missed a deer your shirt tail was coming off if you were a teenager or younger...

 

[elfiii]

From reading these I see some of your Dads were like mine and had served enough time carrying a rifle.
Daddy said he had to keep his rifle in reach 24/7 for 3.5 years in the Philippines from 1942-1945.
He never carried one again. He even got us boys to shoot pigs and calves at slaughter.

Same here but he didn't object to my grandfather taking me hunting.

The Old Man​

I don’t know when the “bug” bit me, but suffice it to say I was drawn to the Outdoors early in my youth. Like most young enthusiasts of the pursuits afield I had my mentor, my grandfather.

He was a South Georgia descendant of folks who settled that corner of the state, a long time ago. The son of a hardware man, he grew up in the hardscrabble world of barbed wire spools, nail kegs, hand tools, creosote fence posts and firearms. Winchesters, Ithacas, Remingtons and Brownings held their place on the wall and each could be had for the princely sum of $15 or so. There were no “criminal background checks” involved, merely the details of the transaction whether it be cash, trade, or “on account”. There was a clear understanding guns were not evil, but evil men might well use them. Right was right and wrong was wrong and everybody knew where the line was.

His father, my great grandfather was a sharp businessman who knew at noon on Saturday, business was done for the week. Come fall, the doors of Ball & Son Hardware were locked and it was off to the dove and quail fields of Thomas County for a few hours of hunting. It was a ritual as constant as the rising sun. Like all young men grown up in a small town rural farming environment, hunting and fishing were as much staples of everyday life as family, work, and church on Sundays.

Thomasville, like other South Georgia towns had its’ rough side, but the populace were genteel and civilized. Everyone, regardless of race, religion, or status were treated both respectfully and graciously and not just in accordance to the “old ways” known by all Southerners. Like all American small towns, religion and worship were the focus of everyday life by everyone. The Word of God was not just spoken and prayed over, it was lived. There was no law or compelling “social hand” involved. They were all true believers and little distinction was made between Protestant and Catholic, Christian and Jew save for the obvious. What was important was that each worshipped in accordance with their beliefs in a Divine God. My grandfather was one of these.

Like others of his time, he was the “complete man”. While gentle and soft, there was a spine of stainless steel, tempered by years of “doing the right thing” based on lessons learned, one day at a time. There was a time and a season for all things under the sun, but always there was honesty in ones dealings, integrity in character, forthrightness in one’s bearing, humility in faith and respect for time honored traditions, morals and values.

In my younger years, he showered me with love and attention. I was the oldest of four, but no favoritism was ever shown. He loved each of us completely and indulged our childish interests and desires. He knew well his job as grandfather.

Years passed and the time of my “awakening” came. While my father loved me dearly, he was a stern taskmaster, determined his children would grow up with the same values passed to him and my mother by my grandparents. My grandfather understood this and used his position and my stage of development to “teach” rather than “discipline”. His object was to compliment the lessons my parents were teaching, using the “soft handed” approach. Our connection in this regard was the love of the outdoors we both shared and he turned this fact to his and my advantage.

Thanksgivings and Christmases were my opportunity to be with him and “Sport” in the late fall harvested corn and hedge rows that were home to the bobwhite quail. We would walk for hours behind Sport as he worked the fields in search of our prey. We would talk about my interests and his. We would discuss right and wrong. When he caught my young mind straying from the straight and narrow, the course correction was accomplished by the simple statement “I don’t know chum. Maybe there is a better way”. It was my sign something deeper was about to unfold and the lessons my father had tried to teach to a recalcitrant youth were made clear to me by object lesson applied with gentle guidance.

I recall a time when I was 11 or so. We were walking the corn rows when Sport pointed a covey. My pulse went off the chart. Handing me a shell for my single shot .410 he said “Let’s close up quick son. Sport has found ‘em”. We took our positions on either side of the dog and the covey flushed. On the rise I hurried my shot in youthful impatience. My aim was sufficient to knock the bird down but not kill it. My grandfather meanwhile dropped one on the rise and one on the swing, a classic double, and a contrast in age and skill against youth and exuberance.

As Sport worked to retrieve the birds, he sensed my distress over having wounded the bird. When Sport returned with my bird still alive in his mouth, he quietly retrieved the bird and dispatched it. Turning to me, he smiled and said “You have to fold ‘em son. You can’t “rag” them down (Fluttering hand held high and descending towards the ground for added emphasis). It was all he said and all that needed be said.

On another occasion Sport was in rare form and pointed covey after covey and found all the “braces” and “singles” after the initial flush. It was magic watching the dog work to find them. We were close to our limit, but the dog was tiring. “Grandaddy, can we stay and get our limit?” I asked. “We’ve got enough for a meal son. We better leave some for the next hunt” was his reply. “Take only what you need”, another lesson learned. Over and over, time after time, he used such opportunities to instill in me all the values and teach all the lessons other adults were unable to reach me with, in a gentle voice with a smile on his face.

I love life. Mine has been full and rewarding. I have been undeservedly blessed beyond measure and each day of life is a gift, yet I do not fear my passing. When it is my turn, beloved family and treasured friends will be there to greet me. He will be standing in the back as each one of them welcomes me home. My grandmother will invoke him forward to welcome his grandson into the loving arms of family. He’ll step forward and smile, embrace me and ask “Are you ready? I’ve been waiting. The shotguns are here and the dog is ready.” I’ll wink at him, we will take leave of loved ones and together, once again, we will take to the field. Under a clear blue autumn sky, Sport will work the birds and we will watch and talk about old times as we walk the endless corn rows stretching into the November sun hanging low on the horizon.

 

[Jim Thompson]

All me. Momma didnt hunt but never discouraged me. Had a step dad that hunted but I only remember him ever taking me a time or 2. We did however run rabbit boxes sometimes.

Then about 9 or so I started taking the crossman out and shooting squirrels.

Then about 10 my alky, wife beating, outlaw, thief and arsonist real dad stopped by outside and gave me a shotgun and a box of shells. I used it for squirrels...until the folks he stole the gun from found out and we gave it back

Then when I was 17 or so a girlfriends dad asked if I wanted to go with him. He was an absolute garbage hunter who killed any and all without any regards to season or laws....

But he offered me to go so I gotta give him credit for that.,

Havent missed a season since about 1985 or 86

 

[Hunter922]

Like JT mostly me. My uncles were bird and rabbit hunters. I started going with another uncle deer hunting but it was more sitting in the woods freezing than hunting. Started bow hunting when i was 12-13 and just couldn't put it down. Hunted with a friend on his property thru high school and they were trophy hunters so I got to watch deer more than shoot anything.. That alone taught me what to look for and not to do. Still stick and string to the bone to this day. No gun hunt has ever lived up to a good bow hunt. Those early lean years have made me the hunter I am today. I can find em', now talking a PY deer inside 30 is a different conversation.

 

[rstallings1979]

All me. Momma didnt hunt but never discouraged me. Had a step dad that hunted but I only remember him ever taking me a time or 2. We did however run rabbit boxes sometimes.

Then about 9 or so I started taking the crossman out and shooting squirrels.

Then about 10 my alky, wife beating, outlaw, thief and arsonist real dad stopped by outside and gave me a shotgun and a box of shells. I used it for squirrels...until the folks he stole the gun from found out and we gave it back

Then when I was 17 or so a girlfriends dad asked if I wanted to go with him. He was an absolute garbage hunter who killed any and all without any regards to season or laws....

But he offered me to go so I gotta give him credit for that.,

Havent missed a season since about 1985 or 86

My story is kind of similar. I was always fascinated by deer. My dad had a garden and I will never forget seeing my first big deer in his turnip patch when I was 5 or 6 back in the mid 80s. He was after a doe that October morning and the doe stopped to get a quick bite I suppose. My dad was an alky as well but not to the extreme you describe. He wasn't violent or a law breaker. He tried to take me hunting a time or two but it was more of a sit on the ground, light a cigarette, drink a beer, kind of hunt. We never saw anything the few times he took me. I realized if I wanted to be a hunter I needed to learn on my own. I started watching shows on tv and looking for trails and corridors on my own (as well as convincing mom to buy magazines from time to time). I had to learn to shoot a rifle on my own as well. He did buy me a .243 when I was about 12 but he never took the time to really teach me how to fire an accurate shot. I killed my first deer at 13 with it at close range thank goodness (less than 50 yards). I never really felt confident in my shooting ability until I was close to 20 at longer ranges (more than 100 yards).

I never wanted that for my kids so I introduced the boys early in life. Now I primarily let the two of them do the hunting excluding my midwest trips. I will occasionally go after a day time buck during bow here in Georgia if I have one patterned but it has been 3 years I bet since I was on one in daytime. This year will be my fist year with one of my kids in tow to the Midwest. I get to introduce him to one of my favorite places to be. I will probably not let him bowhunt this year but he will be along for the ride.