Some recent events got me thinking about my grandfather. Him taking me hunting when I was very little and my grandmother cooking what ever we brought home whether it was ducks, rabbits, or greens. I also blame him for my love of fine shotguns, I wish he would have encouraged a cheaper hobby.I hope he knows how much I appreciate it. Also, why is it nobody can cook like grandma, when it's a family of 9 they cook for 19.

I dearly miss both of mine who passed in their 90's...

My Grandad got me started also. I miss him everyday, he was one helluva man.


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T man,

My father died when I was 5 years old so my Grandad was my hero. We did everything from run Catfish lines to Coarsing wild bees to get the honey to trapping Muskrats and foxes. My Grandad
was one of the finest shots on a running deer and taught me everything he could about hunting.
My uncles would come to Grandad's for deer season and I thought I would never get to be 12 years old so I could go Deer hunting. My Grandad was of the old school and if he said something you could take it to the bank. I have worked to be like my Grandad and one of the best compliments I was ever given was from a neighbor that said your old Grandad will never die as long as you live, you are just like him.

Hawkeye

Buried my last one last June. He was exactly 3 weeks shy of making the century mark. He is the only person I know that was actually born in one of those sod huts you see in the history books. His family built a temporary one while they were building a new house on the family ranch. The man grew up working cattle on horseback in the sandhills of the Colorado and Nebraska praries.

We buried one of the last of the honest to goodnes American Cowboys. They don't make them like that any more.

Gland to see this thread,

I went last week to my grandfathers grave, a true hunter, he taught me more about life and hunting than anyone.

He grew up with General Chuck Yeager and they spent their youth hunting Lincoln County, WV.

I would love to have one more day afield with him.

My hero died when I was 10 yrs old.
I told my little sister he was dead before
my mother picked up the phone and burst into tears when the news was told.
I don't visit many graves but I visit his...
He only had his right arm and we trapped beaver
together, with him compressing the springs of a 330 conibar and me setting the safety's.
He bought me my first rifle at the age of 6 and taught me to shoot it, I was the proud 6 yr old adding rabbit dinners to the menu.
He used to chew this old "green rope" tobacco
which looked like 2 twisted leaves wrapped together.We spent a week taking down an old bob-wire fence and after lunch each day
he would take a nap in the seat of the truck.
One day I snuck his plug out of his shirt pocket and had me a chunk of it, cuz I wanted to be just like him.
I've never been SO sick before or since, that moment in my life.
Maybe it was the magic of childhood but it seemed to be constant adventure around him.

Great thread!
Thanks for stirring those memories...

What a wonderful thread, just wish that I could cry and type at the same time, miss them both, my father and grandfather....Carl

What great memories. Both of my grandfathers were born in the 1890's. One was Chief Deputy Sheriff of the county and a hell of a horseman. The other regarded game laws as sort of advisory and was a cowboy.
They both taught me a lot about hunting and life. Was lucky enough to share many adventures with both and miss them very much.