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Hunting with Dad
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<blockquote data-quote="Turpentine21" data-source="post: 2936311" data-attributes="member: 124909"><p>I always hunted with my Pappy. We lost him 22 years ago. I've never known a better man. He was raised during the Depression and WW2 era and worked hard for everything he ever had. Nothing was ever wasted. Nails, tin foil, whatever. He always had time for me but he also made me work to earn my keep. It seemed like I cut firewood and kindling every single day from the time I was 6 to heat the house or cook with. Or worked in the huge garden he planted. Most of what we ate was grown, shot, or caught. We dog hunted as that was the way it was done here while i was growing up. I loved it. I only knew two or three people that actually hunted with rifles. I have a lot of fond memories with him and he pretty much forged me into the man I have become.</p><p>One morning he put me on the stand and I shot five times at a nice 8 point crossing a logging road. He just wouldn't give up but finally expired in the edge of the road. 5 minutes later I hear his truck coming. He pulls up, leaves the truck running, rolls the window down, throws me a box of buckshot, and drove off. He never said a word. I knew what he was thinking. Glad you killed the deer, but did you have to waste all those shells? I taught you to shoot better than that.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Turpentine21, post: 2936311, member: 124909"] I always hunted with my Pappy. We lost him 22 years ago. I've never known a better man. He was raised during the Depression and WW2 era and worked hard for everything he ever had. Nothing was ever wasted. Nails, tin foil, whatever. He always had time for me but he also made me work to earn my keep. It seemed like I cut firewood and kindling every single day from the time I was 6 to heat the house or cook with. Or worked in the huge garden he planted. Most of what we ate was grown, shot, or caught. We dog hunted as that was the way it was done here while i was growing up. I loved it. I only knew two or three people that actually hunted with rifles. I have a lot of fond memories with him and he pretty much forged me into the man I have become. One morning he put me on the stand and I shot five times at a nice 8 point crossing a logging road. He just wouldn't give up but finally expired in the edge of the road. 5 minutes later I hear his truck coming. He pulls up, leaves the truck running, rolls the window down, throws me a box of buckshot, and drove off. He never said a word. I knew what he was thinking. Glad you killed the deer, but did you have to waste all those shells? I taught you to shoot better than that. [/QUOTE]
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