Hunting with Dad

[Randy Tidwell]

Thought I would start a thread about hunting with you Dad. Len, would love to see a catagory for hunting stories with our dads or sons (Moms and Daughters also)

I'll start off with this one, its a bird hunting story.

In 1977 I got a new German Short Haired Pointer, Pipper. I had been working her at a local Pheasant club for a few months, great dog!

I asked my dad to come with me to shoot over her while worked with her. I had her in the front seat of the truck when I picked dad up (no camper shell), first thing out of his mouth was the dog belongs in the back. He was old school, dog belong in the back or in the truck of the car. I explained to him my dog rides in the front with me.

He bitched all the way to the Pheasant Club about her in the cab. I finally told him to knock it off or I would take him home.

When we got there, it had be raining and the fields were a muddy mess. The first 1 1/2 hours, she made several classic points and dad had 7 birds in his bag. Pipper was a muddy mess!

We headed back to the truck to warm up and have some coffee. Dad was sitting on passenger side when I opened the drivers door, Pipper leaped in the truck and headed for Dad's lap. I grabbed for her collar and missed, she ended up laying he head on his lap. I tried to reach for her, but Dad knocked my hand away and started petting her. I said "What happened to she belongs in the bed of the truck?) All I heard was "F You, good girl Pipper!) Seems that she changed his mind, lol.

I never let him live that down, reminded him every chance I got!

Someone stole her out of my backyard a few years later

Would love to read some of your stories and memories.

 

[frostop]

Very cool story, except the stolen dog part!

I used to have a good spot to sit for deer along a power line which has since turned into a utv riding area.
My wife, daughter and I (the only time my wife ever went), to start we're leaving the house, my wife and I jump into the truck and I was sure that my daughter had as well and I drive off down the road. About half way down the road one of our phones starts ringing and it's a call from our house, we both look at each other like what the hell? It was my daughter that had not gotten in the truck!

Get to the parking lot and unload the atv's and ride up to the spot, at which there was a large log that I like to park behind and sit on or behind.

We all sat there for a while, my daughter actually ended up laying down on the log and falling asleep.
Short time goes by and a Large Doe steps out directly across the power line and I didn't even think twice (late in the season), I actually grabbed my daughters rifle which was closer and shot the Doe and woke up the daughter. Needless to say she doesn't fall asleep anymore!

 

[TexSavage]

My dad, brother, my collage age son and I were hunting deer in west Texas. I realized that it was the first time all of us had deer hunted together. Ironically it was also the last time. In this part of Texas there are oil & gas wells all over the place and as one of the prime rules, one must be careful of what lies behind your intended target.

Dad had always shot a Remington 7mm Rem Mag since it came out and was one of the best shots I knew. His expertise with that rifle and a sling was quite impressive. Running and distances of 300 yards was just unreal as the vast majority of his shots were heart shots. Must have been that Army training and unreal vision! Well dad was in his late 70's and he was complaining his rifle was off, as he had missed several deer. My brother and i were looking at him and tried to tell him his 8lb 7 mag might be making him flinch now since the recoil was significant.

Bulls#@&t he says. My dad had two rules, number 1, he was always right, number 2, in case he is wrong, refer back to rule #1. So he decides he's gonna shoot that flat rock over there at about 100 yards and prove that it was the rifle and not him. We all said 'Dad, that's a real bad idea. There is so much oil and gas stuff. Don't do that!" As those words left our mouths he quickly shoulder his rifle and off went a round. He hit the rock dead center and began to grin. That grin quickly faded as a loud hissing sound began to emanate from the direction of the now deceased flat rock. A cloud of gasses began to form and within seconds it was bigger than any hot air balloon and was growing rapidly. My brother and I stuffed him into the truck along with my son and preceded to leave.

At that time I had just gotten a phone that had GPS capability. I quickly got the coordinates and called the number posted and told them of the "Big Hissing Cloud and the coordinates of the location!" We met the well service truck as we were headed to town for lunch, which was very quiet and uneventful.

Upon our return we met the well service guys coming out. Inquiring about the issue they said it was no big deal as it was a high pressure salt water disposal line. Funny thing they said as it had a very clean "gouge" in it. Never had seen anything like that, must have been a flaw. They repaired it and said no need to worry as no danger and damage was nonexistent.

Well we wandered down where it started and low and behold was a two foot piece of orange pipe with a perfectly smooth .284 channel across it! Well needless to say we harassed dad all day! And now "The Rest of The Story"!!

The next morning as we were loading up we headed to the blinds. We were in a side by side with a makeshift second set of seats in the back which were up high. My son and I where up in them. As we were about 100 yards into the trip, my son starts yelling "Uncle G, STOP!! Look,!!" As he points to our left. My brother hits the breaks, about throws us all out and starts shinning lights to the left. My son, explodes with his sighting, "Look, There are some of Papa's trophies!!" To our left were 30 foot pieces of, you guessed it, ORANGE PIPE. As we are all laughing hysterically, except for dad, he looks up and says "Smart *** grand son", and never says another word on the drive.

Lost dad in 2019 due to cancer complications and just lost my brother in a tragic accident. This is an irreplaceable memory. One of those "Dad and I" hunting stories.

 

[Randy Tidwell]

My dad, brother, my collage age son and I were hunting deer in west Texas. I realized that it was the first time all of us had deer hunted together. Ironically it was also the last time. In this part of Texas there are oil & gas wells all over the place and as one of the prime rules, one must be careful of what lies behind your intended target.

Dad had always shot a Remington 7mm Rem Mag since it came out and was one of the best shots I knew. His expertise with that rifle and a sling was quite impressive. Running and distances of 300 yards was just unreal as the vast majority of his shots were heart shots. Must have been that Army training and unreal vision! Well dad was in his late 70's and he was complaining his rifle was off, as he had missed several deer. My brother and i were looking at him and tried to tell him his 8lb 7 mag might be making him flinch now since the recoil was significant.

Bulls#@&t he says. My dad had two rules, number 1, he was always right, number 2, in case he is wrong, refer back to rule #1. So he decides he's gonna shoot that flat rock over there at about 100 yards and prove that it was the rifle and not him. We all said 'Dad, that's a real bad idea. There is so much oil and gas stuff. Don't do that!" As those words left our mouths he quickly shoulder his rifle and off went a round. He hit the rock dead center and began to grin. That grin quickly faded as a loud hissing sound began to emanate from the direction of the now deceased flat rock. A cloud of gasses began to form and within seconds it was bigger than any hot air balloon and was growing rapidly. My brother and I stuffed him into the truck along with my son and preceded to leave.

At that time I had just gotten a phone that had GPS capability. I quickly got the coordinates and called the number posted and told them of the "Big Hissing Cloud and the coordinates of the location!" We met the well service truck as we were headed to town for lunch, which was very quiet and uneventful.

Upon our return we met the well service guys coming out. Inquiring about the issue they said it was no big deal as it was a high pressure salt water disposal line. Funny thing they said as it had a very clean "gouge" in it. Never had seen anything like that, must have been a flaw. They repaired it and said no need to worry as no danger and damage was nonexistent.

Well we wandered down where it started and low and behold was a two foot piece of orange pipe with a perfectly smooth .284 channel across it! Well needless to say we harassed dad all day! And now "The Rest of The Story"!!

The next morning as we were loading up we headed to the blinds. We were in a side by side with a makeshift second set of seats in the back which were up high. My son and I where up in them. As we were about 100 yards into the trip, my son starts yelling "Uncle G, STOP!! Look,!!" As he points to our left. My brother hits the breaks, about throws us all out and starts shinning lights to the left. My son, explodes with his sighting, "Look, There are some of Papa's trophies!!" To our left were 30 foot pieces of, you guessed it, ORANGE PIPE. As we are all laughing hysterically, except for dad, he looks up and says "Smart *** grand son", and never says another word on the drive.

Lost dad in 2019 due to cancer complications and just lost my brother in a tragic accident. This is an irreplaceable memory. One of those "Dad and I" hunting stories.

I can see it now, your son has a quick wit! ROFLMAO Going to share this one at hunt camp next week.

I have several other stories to share, will chime in later with them.

 

[TexSavage]

I can see it now, your son has a quick wit! ROFLMAO Going to share this one at hunt camp next week.

I have several other stories to share, will chime in later with them.

Glad you like it. My dad and brother were character's deluxe and you are right my son can throw zingers so fast I'm ROFLMAO!

 

[wv270wsm]

So in 2008 my dad started have issues with his right hand just randomly going numb . He'd went to a few doctors appointments about it but him being beyond stubborn with foreign doctors he never followed up with a mri like recommended. That was in august.

It's now November and we find out dads got a brain tumor. And the doctors believe they can remove it without too many side effects. After surgery dad had some physical therapy because the only side effect he had was his right leg was kinda numb. Still in his right mind and could for the most part get around with the use of a cane .

Fast forward now to spring . He called me bout a week before spring gobbler season come in and said there was 4 big gobblers in the yard like clock work every morning and he'd like to actually have one called in to shoot . See dad killed all kinds of game , everything this state had to offer actually. It was always just hunting and what you seen you killed . He'd never actually set out to kill a gobbler by calling one in .

So I went up and set my blind up just in the edge of the wood line . Called off work the first morning of turkey season . Helped mom get dad dressed, by this time he was starting to loose more leg movement. And we went out and got in the blind .

I know that those gobblers weren't really called in by me , they were just doing their morning routine. But I'd call and it was like they couldn't stop gobbling . They came in and strutted around the hen decoy I'd set out and carried on . Dad was shaking so bad I thought for sure he'd miss at such a close range. He didn't though he actually killed two with one shot . Swear on the Bible he did . And yeah it was not exactly legal but accidents happen.

That was the last time me and my dad got to go hunting . It was pretty well downhill from there for him . He passed away that fall . I'll never forget that morning in April though

 

[john k]

Thought I would start a thread about hunting with you Dad. Len, would love to see a catagory for hunting stories with our dads or sons (Moms and Daughters also)

I'll start off with this one, its a bird hunting story.

In 1977 I got a new German Short Haired Pointer, Pipper. I had been working her at a local Pheasant club for a few months, great dog!

I asked my dad to come with me to shoot over her while worked with her. I had her in the front seat of the truck when I picked dad up (no camper shell), first thing out of his mouth was the dog belongs in the back. He was old school, dog belong in the back or in the truck of the car. I explained to him my dog rides in the front with me.

He bitched all the way to the Pheasant Club about her in the cab. I finally told him to knock it off or I would take him home.

When we got there, it had be raining and the fields were a muddy mess. The first 1 1/2 hours, she made several classic points and dad had 7 birds in his bag. Pipper was a muddy mess!

We headed back to the truck to warm up and have some coffee. Dad was sitting on passenger side when I opened the drivers door, Pipper leaped in the truck and headed for Dad's lap. I grabbed for her collar and missed, she ended up laying he head on his lap. I tried to reach for her, but Dad knocked my hand away and started petting her. I said "What happened to she belongs in the bed of the truck?) All I heard was "F You, good girl Pipper!) Seems that she changed his mind, lol.

I never let him live that down, reminded him every chance I got!

Someone stole her out of my backyard a few years later

Would love to read some of your stories and memories.

Thank you for bringing a subject up so dear to me and that is a vital part of who I am as a man and human being. I was blessed to have a father who introduced me properly to hunting and the outdoors. The blessing continues as my son and I look forward to our hunting together each year. When I was six or seven years old, I was with my father hunting and as he shot a dove and ejected the shell I reached down, picked it up and smelled the burnt gunpowder and have been addicted to that smell ever since!

 

[Coyote Shadow Tracker]

Thought I would start a thread about hunting with you Dad. Len, would love to see a catagory for hunting stories with our dads or sons (Moms and Daughters also)

I'll start off with this one, its a bird hunting story.

In 1977 I got a new German Short Haired Pointer, Pipper. I had been working her at a local Pheasant club for a few months, great dog!

I asked my dad to come with me to shoot over her while worked with her. I had her in the front seat of the truck when I picked dad up (no camper shell), first thing out of his mouth was the dog belongs in the back. He was old school, dog belong in the back or in the truck of the car. I explained to him my dog rides in the front with me.

He bitched all the way to the Pheasant Club about her in the cab. I finally told him to knock it off or I would take him home.

When we got there, it had be raining and the fields were a muddy mess. The first 1 1/2 hours, she made several classic points and dad had 7 birds in his bag. Pipper was a muddy mess!

We headed back to the truck to warm up and have some coffee. Dad was sitting on passenger side when I opened the drivers door, Pipper leaped in the truck and headed for Dad's lap. I grabbed for her collar and missed, she ended up laying he head on his lap. I tried to reach for her, but Dad knocked my hand away and started petting her. I said "What happened to she belongs in the bed of the truck?) All I heard was "F You, good girl Pipper!) Seems that she changed his mind, lol.

I never let him live that down, reminded him every chance I got!

Someone stole her out of my backyard a few years later

Would love to read some of your stories and memories.

Love the Post!!!!!

 

[The Oregonian]

My son, 14, got super lucky and drew a sheep tag in John Day - we head out in less than a week. Floating the John Day and starting stalks from there. Father/son hunting trips are as good as it gets.

 

[Randy Tidwell]

My last hunt with Dad was 1994 in Montana. Probably shouldn't tell this story, but it been long enough to share publicly now.

We were hunting Deer and Elk near Ennis MT, on the second day I shot my buck with an XP-100 pistol chambered in 308. Dad laughed at me for hunting with it, said I would never hit anything with that pea shooter. Proved him wrong, 325 yard shot.

There was 4 of us on the hunt, my buddy Robert, Dad and Paul Bass. Mr. Bass (never could break the habit of calling him Mister) was my Scout Master as a boy and he is the one that pinned the Eagle Scout Medal on me in 1967.

Couple days later we were out looking for a Buck for Dad and Paul. Robert and I were in my truck they were following behind us in Paul's small truck driving up this ridge. We spotted a nice buck walking across the hillside about 450 yards out.

I stopped and crept back to dad and pointed him out. Dad said "Yeah, I see him but that's too far!" Dad, you're always bragging about how far your 300 Weatherby will shoot, take him. Nope, you shoot him.

So I eased back up to my truck, dug out my 300 Win Mag and leaned up against the back of the camper shell. At that point Robert ranged him at 525yds. He was walking straight up the hill now. He stopped, looked back at us, so I put the cross hairs just above his antlers and let it fly. Hit him just behind the shoulder blades and he dropped in his tracks.

I heard dad say "****, what shot" Heard Paul say "I'll be damned" Then I heard their truck start. When I turned to look, they were driving away headed back to camp. I ran up to the cab and told dad on the radio to come back, no answer. I know they had the radio on? I couldn't say on the radio I didn't have a tag! After 3 or 4 attempts to reach them, we hustled out to retrieve the buck. Stuffed in the back of the truck and high tailed it back to camp, about 10-12 miles.

When we got to back to camp, those two old men sitting around the campfire drinking coffee. I walked over to dad and said "you know I didn't have a tag, if they caught me, I'd be in jail now!"

He just smiled and said "Would of served you right, shooting the poor little deer that far away!" Could of killed him. Both of those old men were practical jokers and just loved pulling something on us.

I ended up shooting all three of the deer in this photo. Dad is on my right and Paul on my left. Lost Dad in 99.

I have several more, will share them later after more stories are shared, I'm really enjoying these stories!

 

[Bravo 4]

My last hunt with Dad was 1994 in Montana. Probably shouldn't tell this story, but it been long enough to share publicly now.

We were hunting Deer and Elk near Ennis MT, on the second day I shot my buck with an XP-100 pistol chambered in 308. Dad laughed at me for hunting with it, said I would never hit anything with that pea shooter. Proved him wrong, 325 yard shot.

There was 4 of us on the hunt, my buddy Robert, Dad and Paul Bass. Mr. Bass (never could break the habit of calling him Mister) was my Scout Master as a boy and he is the one that pinned the Eagle Scout Medal on me in 1967.

Couple days later we were out looking for a Buck for Dad and Paul. Robert and I were in my truck they were following behind us in Paul's small truck driving up this ridge. We spotted a nice buck walking across the hillside about 450 yards out.

I stopped and crept back to dad and pointed him out. Dad said "Yeah, I see him but that's too far!" Dad, you're always bragging about how far your 300 Weatherby will shoot, take him. Nope, you shoot him.

So I eased back up to my truck, dug out my 300 Win Mag and leaned up against the back of the camper shell. At that point Robert ranged him at 525yds. He was walking straight up the hill now. He stopped, looked back at us, so I put the cross hairs just above his antlers and let it fly. Hit him just behind the shoulder blades and he dropped in his tracks.

I heard dad say "****, what shot" Heard Paul say "I'll be damned" Then I heard their truck start. When I turned to look, they were driving away headed back to camp. I ran up to the cab and told dad on the radio to come back, no answer. I know they had the radio on? I couldn't say on the radio I didn't have a tag! After 3 or 4 attempts to reach them, we hustled out to retrieve the buck. Stuffed in the back of the truck and high tailed it back to camp, about 10-12 miles.

When we got to back to camp, those two old men sitting around the campfire drinking coffee. I walked over to dad and said "you know I didn't have a tag, if they caught me, I'd be in jail now!"

He just smiled and said "Would of served you right, shooting the poor little deer that far away!" Could of killed him. Both of those old men were practical jokers and just loved pulling something on us.

I ended up shooting all three of the deer in this photo. Dad is on my right and Paul on my left. Lost Dad in 99.

I have several more, will share them later after more stories are shared, I'm really enjoying these stories!

Randy, Randy, Randy…there's no statute of limitations on murder!

My dad didn't hunt, and didn't like kids, so I'll tell one of me being the dad. My daughter was 12 and I had a really good place to hunt almost exclusively (probably never find it's equal). My daughter and I sat in a double lean-to ladder stand on opening morning overlooking a 350 x 500 yard old pasture. When the sun started popping up I seen two horizontal backs of deer skirting the far edge, the one in back being noticeably larger than the front. I said there is a buck chasing a doe, grabbed my rattling antlers, and smashed them together. The buck, a rather large bodied-really nice racked 8 point, instantly started charging at us. This was one of two bucks I'd been after. My daughter just looked up at me and smiled, so I said ok you can shoot him and got her set up. The buck stopped at about 150 and turned broadside looking for the fight. She shot, and he ran about 75 yards and piled up. Got him mounted for her for Christmas.
Now fast forward to opening morning the following year:
I had gotten everything ready the days/weeks prior to this momentous occasion, but when it was time to get up she wanted to sleep in and go that evening. So alone I went, kinda saddened. That morning I sat in our stand, and shot 2 nice 8 point bucks within 30 minutes of daylight…with her new rifle.

 

[Randy Tidwell]

This is not a hunting story, but an example of what I had to deal with!

I've always been a die hard Ford guy, Dad hated Fords, loved his Chevy's.

In the mid 80's I installed a new motor in my '75 F250 Ford (the one in the photo above). It was built 484 cubic inch Ford big block (stroked 429). It would pass everything on the road but a gas station. Last trip with it to Montana, I averaged 6.4 mpg not pulling anything, ouch.

Sometime in the early 90s I was changing oil one day when dad showed up. He grabbed a chair and lit a smoke while I was under the truck.

Just as a crawled out from underneath it, the garage phone rang. One of my buddies wanted some load information off my computer. I handed the phone to dad and asked him to hang up when I got upstairs.

After being gone for about 20 minutes, I started pouring the new oil in my baby.

Then I heard Dad say "Your trucks going to run better!"

I told him, I am only changing oil, it won't make a difference.

Then I got, trust me it's going to run better.

Knowing dad was a practical joker, I knew something was up.

OK Dad, what did you do?

"I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" DAD?

After finishing adding oil, I started it up to run for a few minutes to circulate the new oil into the dual filter system.

When I shut it off, I got "Man that things sounds good now!"

DAD, what did you do?

Just got "I didn't do anything.

Well for the next couple of months, every time I talked to him I would get "So is that truck still running good?" I told him I would eventually find what he did. He just kept denying it.

The next time I changed oil, I found it. While I was on the phone that old man crawled under my truck and plastered a Chevy Bow tie Decal to the oil pan.

I got out from under the truck and called him "Dam you Dad!" He just said "Don't take it off son, it will fall apart!" Then hung up.

I still laugh about that.

 

[Turpentine21]

Thought I would start a thread about hunting with you Dad. Len, would love to see a catagory for hunting stories with our dads or sons (Moms and Daughters also)

I'll start off with this one, its a bird hunting story.

In 1977 I got a new German Short Haired Pointer, Pipper. I had been working her at a local Pheasant club for a few months, great dog!

I asked my dad to come with me to shoot over her while worked with her. I had her in the front seat of the truck when I picked dad up (no camper shell), first thing out of his mouth was the dog belongs in the back. He was old school, dog belong in the back or in the truck of the car. I explained to him my dog rides in the front with me.

He bitched all the way to the Pheasant Club about her in the cab. I finally told him to knock it off or I would take him home.

When we got there, it had be raining and the fields were a muddy mess. The first 1 1/2 hours, she made several classic points and dad had 7 birds in his bag. Pipper was a muddy mess!

We headed back to the truck to warm up and have some coffee. Dad was sitting on passenger side when I opened the drivers door, Pipper leaped in the truck and headed for Dad's lap. I grabbed for her collar and missed, she ended up laying he head on his lap. I tried to reach for her, but Dad knocked my hand away and started petting her. I said "What happened to she belongs in the bed of the truck?) All I heard was "F You, good girl Pipper!) Seems that she changed his mind, lol.

I never let him live that down, reminded him every chance I got!

Someone stole her out of my backyard a few years later

Would love to read some of your stories and memories.

Dog theft honestly should be a capital offense. There are no sorrier people in the world than those that would steal a dog.

 

[Randy Tidwell]

Turpentine, I'm with you. I had several guys at the Pheasant Club try to buy her, no way.

It was a regular thing to let her out in the mornings, always checked the gate. The latch was the type she could not open.

One Saturday morning after letting her out, I went back to bed. I would always find her laying on her back sunning her belly in the same spot. About an hour later, opened the back door and called her. When I looked for her, was not there and the gate was open.

She had gotten out in the past and we would find her on the front porch and an hour of so later.

Never seen her again.

A buddy trained his dog in Polish, only English word that dog knew was NO. I laughed him thinking that would not keep someone from stealing him.

The next dog I start from scratch will be trained in German!