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Hunting with Dad
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<blockquote data-quote="COBrad" data-source="post: 2936799" data-attributes="member: 1940"><p>My dad first took me hunting when I was about 4 years old. I still remember it. He said we were going fox hunting as we walked through the field in front of our house. We came to a small creek and he stuck a garter snake with an arrow from his bow. I was so thrilled I can still remember the scene. A few years later he let me carry his empty .22 rifle and taught me gun safety in the field… he said we were hunting bobcats. Twenty years down the road I had been guiding elk hunts for 6 years and had a nice little horse business going. Dad hated horses. I talked him into a horseback elk hunt in the backcountry outside of Aspen CO where I was managing a small cow outfit. The opening day of elk season a buddy and I saddles horses while granddad and dad made breakfast in the warm wall tent. Breakfast is done and dads in his long handles. "Dad! Get dressed it's time to go" "I'm not getting back on that horse till we leave. We're right in the middle of the hunting no need to go anywhere else." When we got back to camp at last light empty handed, dad had supper going and an elk quartered hanging from a meat pole he put up. Dad loved to hunt and in the early days the whole family went and put up these spacious tents made of Aspen poles and visqueen with a wood burning stove inside. Sadly dad died in an accident a week after his 50th birthday. I wish he were still here so I could still take HIM hunting.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="COBrad, post: 2936799, member: 1940"] My dad first took me hunting when I was about 4 years old. I still remember it. He said we were going fox hunting as we walked through the field in front of our house. We came to a small creek and he stuck a garter snake with an arrow from his bow. I was so thrilled I can still remember the scene. A few years later he let me carry his empty .22 rifle and taught me gun safety in the field… he said we were hunting bobcats. Twenty years down the road I had been guiding elk hunts for 6 years and had a nice little horse business going. Dad hated horses. I talked him into a horseback elk hunt in the backcountry outside of Aspen CO where I was managing a small cow outfit. The opening day of elk season a buddy and I saddles horses while granddad and dad made breakfast in the warm wall tent. Breakfast is done and dads in his long handles. “Dad! Get dressed it’s time to go” “I’m not getting back on that horse till we leave. We’re right in the middle of the hunting no need to go anywhere else.” When we got back to camp at last light empty handed, dad had supper going and an elk quartered hanging from a meat pole he put up. Dad loved to hunt and in the early days the whole family went and put up these spacious tents made of Aspen poles and visqueen with a wood burning stove inside. Sadly dad died in an accident a week after his 50th birthday. I wish he were still here so I could still take HIM hunting. [/QUOTE]
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