My Best Day....

[BigBore44]

Well it finally happened yesterday. After 67 years my dad finally shot his first big game animal. A whopping 35lb sow. But I haven't haven't had more fun in the woods in all my life. See dad never was really a hunter. He was raised on big ranches that my grandpa managed. Occasionally he'd go kick up a few quail or pot shot some ducks. But he never had an interest in big game.....until I started shooting pigs and smoked a few for him and mom.

He's been out 5 times as of last night. 3 with me. 1 by himself. And then again with me yesterday evening. I've put him on pigs on 3 separate occasions. And 3 times he's started shaking so bad the end of his barrel looked like an orchestra conductor's baton. Hasn't had to shoot farther than 35 yards. So here's the story. I know it isn't much to you guys. But it was a big deal to me....

So we're walking a big (~20 acre) pond dike on some public land. We haven't seen anything except 6 deer. The sun is just starting to fade. There's almost no wind. But it's a slightly north wind. He's getting tired because we're about 4 miles in. The grass below the dike is so tall you have to get in just the right spot to be able to see anything. We're talking 6'-7' tall and super thick. Only way you know pigs are close is you see the grass moving.

We round one bend and are walking and talking when low and behold I see the grass moving about 45-50 yards away.

I whisper "Dad, its pigs". He doesn't hear me. Did I mention after 25 years as a police officer my dad's hearing absolutely SUCKS? Well, it does. So I smack him on the arm.
"What?"
"Pigs. Right there. See the grass moving?"
"No? Where?"
"Dad. 40 yards. By that tree. See it moving and that black area? That's a pig. Wait. There's two"
"I don't see it"
(Oh sweet Jesus help me)
"Well trust me. It's pigs. Move up nice and easy."
So we get within about 35 yards and a nice pig (~150lbs) steps out.
"Please tell me you see it now"
"Yeah I see it. You want me to shoot it?"
"No dad. We're just pig hunting. Let's let the pig go... Hell yes I want you to shoot it."
So dad brings the rifle up (cue the crescendo for the meistro) and...Boom!!
The pig spins and takes off.
"You feel good about the shot?"
"Oh yeah."
So I hop the fence, clear my 10mm and start looking for blood. Not a drop. Looked for 20 minutes. Text my brother to express my frustration because I can't say anything to dad. I climb back up on the dike. He's obviously bummed out.
"It's cool dad. We're gonna get you a pig."
So we start walking again. There's a small pond just north of the big pond. Maybe 50 yards north. From the dike you can see the entire pond. When we get to where we can see the pond, I look out and there are two pigs standing by the water. About 15 yards apart. I point...
"Dad. There's two pigs standing by the water you see 'me?"
"No. Where?"
(Good lord not again!!)
"Right there dad. Pull your rifle up and look through your scope."
So he does.
"Yeah I see 'em"
(Thank you lord)
"Ok. How about this time you use my shoulder as a rest."
So he puts the rifle on my shoulder, I close my eyes and plug my ears (I realize this wasn't the safest option but it's the hand I was dealt).
"You ready? You got him?"
"Yeah"
"Ok. Take him."
BOOOM. I open my eyes as soon as he fired so I could se if the pig runs off. And I heard the "thwack". The pig I thought he was shooting at shoot runs off into the woods. (Here we go again). By this point it's really getting late. But I hop the fence again and had him guide me to where he thought the pig was. No blood. I look and look. Nothing. I happen to have something dark catch my eye and look over at what I thought was a piece of drift wood. And there in all her glory was that little sow.
(Halfway yelling back to him about 150 yards from me)
"Well dad....?"
"I missed didn't I"?
And I reached down and grabbed that sow by the back legs and held her up.
"Not this time!"
I haven't seen my dad fist pump in years. But he did. I carried her almost 2 miles on my shoulders to get her back to the truck. Talked the whole way. Made jokes. Laughed a lot. Got her home, took the hams and tenders and he cleaned my bloody pistol.

And that was my best day.....

 

[horsey300]

Well it finally happened yesterday. After 67 years my dad finally shot his first big game animal. A whopping 35lb sow. But I haven't haven't had more fun in the woods in all my life. See dad never was really a hunter. He was raised on big ranches that my grandpa managed. Occasionally he'd go kick up a few quail or pot shot some ducks. But he never had an interest in big game.....until I started shooting pigs and smoked a few for him and mom.

He's been out 5 times as of last night. 3 with me. 1 by himself. And then again with me yesterday evening. I've put him on pigs on 3 separate occasions. And 3 times he's started shaking so bad the end of his barrel looked like an orchestra conductor's baton. Hasn't had to shoot farther than 35 yards. So here's the story. I know it isn't much to you guys. But it was a big deal to me....

So we're walking a big (~20 acre) pond dike on some public land. We haven't seen anything except 6 deer. The sun is just starting to fade. There's almost no wind. But it's a slightly north wind. He's getting tired because we're about 4 miles in. The grass below the dike is so tall you have to get in just the right spot to be able to see anything. We're talking 6'-7' tall and super thick. Only way you know pigs are close is you see the grass moving.

We round one bend and are walking and talking when low and behold I see the grass moving about 45-50 yards away.

I whisper "Dad, its pigs". He doesn't hear me. Did I mention after 25 years as a police officer my dad's hearing absolutely SUCKS? Well, it does. So I smack him on the arm.
"What?"
"Pigs. Right there. See the grass moving?"
"No? Where?"
"Dad. 40 yards. By that tree. See it moving and that black area? That's a pig. Wait. There's two"
"I don't see it"
(Oh sweet Jesus help me)
"Well trust me. It's pigs. Move up nice and easy."
So we get within about 35 yards and a nice pig (~150lbs) steps out.
"Please tell me you see it now"
"Yeah I see it. You want me to shoot it?"
"No dad. We're just pig hunting. Let's let the pig go... Hell yes I want you to shoot it."
So dad brings the rifle up (cue the crescendo for the meistro) and...Boom!!
The pig spins and takes off.
"You feel good about the shot?"
"Oh yeah."
So I hop the fence, clear my 10mm and start looking for blood. Not a drop. Looked for 20 minutes. Text my brother to express my frustration because I can't say anything to dad. I climb back up on the dike. He's obviously bummed out.
"It's cool dad. We're gonna get you a pig."
So we start walking again. There's a small pond just north of the big pond. Maybe 50 yards north. From the dike you can see the entire pond. When we get to where we can see the pond, I look out and there two pigs standing by the water. About 15 yards apart. I point...
"Dad. There's two pigs standing by the water you see 'me?"
"No. Where?"
(Good lord not again!!)
"Right there dad. Pull your rifle up and look through your scope."
So he does.
"Yeah I see 'em"
(Thank you lord)
"Ok. How about this time you use my shoulder as a rest."
So he puts the rifle on my shoulder, I close my eyes and plug my ears (I realize this wasn't the safest option but it's the hand I was dealt).
"You ready? You got him?"
"Yeah"
"Ok. Take him."
BOOOM. I open my eyes as soon as he fired so I could se if the pig runs off. And I heard the "thwack". The pig I thought he was shooting at shoot runs off into the woods. (Here we go again). By this point it's really getting late. But I hope the fence again and had him guide me to where he thought the pig was. No blood. I look and look. Nothing. I happen to have something dark catch my eye and look over at what I thought was a piece of drift wood. And there in all her glory was that little sow.
(Halfway yelling back to him about 150 yards from me)
"Well dad....?"
"I missed didn't I"?
And I reached down and grabbed that sow by the back legs and held her up.
"Not this time!"
I haven't seen my dad fist pump in years. But he did. I carried her almost 2 miles on my shoulders to get her back to the truck. Talked the whole way. Made jokes. Laughed a lot. Got her home, took the hams and tenders and he cleaned my bloody pistol.

And that was my best day.....

I greatly enjoyed that! You've made my weekend, thank you! Well written, amazing experience! For someone who hasn't hunted with his dad in over 12 years, that story got me a little bit. I hope you two can keep this going a good while longer!

 

[BigBore44]

I greatly enjoyed that! You've made my weekend, thank you! Well written, amazing experience! For someone who hasn't hunted with his dad in over 12 years, that story got me a little bit. I hope you two can keep this going a good while longer!

Thank you. It took 18 years of invites to get him to the woods with me. But it was worth all the effort. I'm sorry you haven't hunted with your father in 12 years. It's life, I know. But still....

 

[LoonWulf]

Great post, thanks for the story!

 

[Shanghai McCoy]

It's great that you are getting to hunt with your Dad.
A good story well told.

 

[MrBorland]

Great story! My father hunted as a lad with his uncles over 50 years ago, but hasn't been since. A few years ago, I arranged to go hog hunting in FL together. We didn't get a pig, but it (and the range session the day before), were great days for us anyway.

Well done!

 

[Armored farmer]

A great story, congrats to you both.

I have great memories of hunting with my dad.

 

[entropy]

Great story! My dad didn't get a deer till he was 44 years old, but he got a 12 pt. buck! He got a moose 6 years later. I was there for the moose, I had my scope on the cow his bull had been walking with. He shot first.

 

[Mn Fats]

Very nice story. And very well told. Thanks BigBore.

 

[lastofthebreed]

What a great story! I tried for years to get my dad a deer. He spent the majority of his life working 2 jobs and providing for his family. He enjoyed hunting and is the reason I got into it. When his eyesight began to fail he was limited to hunting with a shotgun and had no qualms about taking a limit of squirrels with a single shot 20 gauge I gave him for Christmas one year.

The last time I was able to take him deer hunting he hunted with an Ithaca Model 37 Pump and 00 buckshot. I put him on one of my favorite stands and told him to be sure the deer was in range before he shot. About 10 AM I heard him shoot. I waited about 15 minutes and quietly moved toward where he was hunting. I met him on the trail on his way to our pick up.

At my question "What'd you get?", he replied that he had shot a 4 pt buck and it was "dead as a door nail" about 20 yds from his stand. I asked him where did you aim and he said "I shot him right in the head." He and I did a victory hug right there and took our guns to the truck so our hands would be free to drag his deer out of the woods.

Upon returning to the spot the deer was shot, we both were surprised to find no deer. Not a single drop of blood, no scuffed up leaves, nothing to indicate a deer had ever been shot right there. We hunted for hours but were never able to find that deer. It was one of the most disappointing days I have ever had in the woods.

A couple of weeks later, one of the guys hunting the same piece of property killed a small 4 point buck and, you guessed it, there were 3 buckshot embedded in the head and neck area of that deer.

Not long after that my dad and mother died in a tragic house fire. He never did get a deer. I miss him.

Weeks after his death, I found out he had loaned his single shot 20 gauge to a friend. That shotgun, the very one I had given him for Christmas several years before, now resides in my gun safe. There ain't enough money in the US Mint to buy that gun!

 

[BigBore44]

Thank you all for your kind responses. I actually wrote somewhat of a condensed version of the story because I didn't want to bore you all. It was quite a day.

My dad taught my brother and I to fish. We were raised in bass boats. But we taught ourselves to hunt. When I told my brother of dad's experience, I could hear the pride and excitement in his voice. But I could detect just a hint of (disappointing) jealousy. Pigs haven't reached his area of Arkansas yet so he didn't think dad would go hunting with him. I talked to dad about how much fun I had with and how much it meant to me to have him go with me. He expressed the same feelings. Then I told him that he has another son who would give anything to have his dad go deer hunting with him. And that it would mean everything to me too.

Dad has always said that deer were "to pretty to kill". And I told him that I remembered him saying this on many occasions. But so many dads don't have sons that want to spend time with them, or get to busy with their own lives to do so. He should feel blessed to have two sons that enjoy his company and actually want him to go with them. He thought about it for a second and agreed. And now, this year, dad is going on his first deer hunt with my brother. I haven't told my brother yet. But I already know what his reaction will be.

I don't know if he'll actually harvest an animal because the shots are normally about 40 yards, and he doesn't have the best luck at those distances (lol). But it doesn't matter. They say the best things in life are worth waiting for. The older I get, the more I agree with that. Hopefully this can become a tradition.

So to all the sons out there, who's fathers are still alive and even remotely capable, read this last part:

Please, take your dads out to the woods. Spend time with them. Make those memories. Your friends and hunting buddies will more than likely be around long after your fathers have passed. Which is all the more reason to make those memories while you can. They will last a lifetime. I've got lots of friends and hunting buddies. Only got one dad.

 

[Flintknapper]

What a great story, thank you for sharing that special experience with us.

Love the way you told it. Made me laugh a bit, so genuine. Good job.

 

[jmorris]

Nice story and some good laughs.

My Father isn't much for hunting but I'll never forget the sparrows in the sycamores out front of our house when I was a kid. He tried a number of methods of getting rid of them but the most fun was the two of us and a box of 12 ga shells.

25 shells for 126 dead sparrows for an average of just over 5 birds per shot. Just a drop of water in the pond though, after a few more methods, he cut the trees down just to spite the birds.

 

[badkarmamib]

My father taught me to hunt, and to love and respect the outdoors. We have hunted together since I was 12. On the days when he has to work, and I go alone, it definitely lacks a lot. Stories like these remind me how fortunate I truly am. Thanks for sharing.

 

[alsaqr]

Thanks BigBore44 for a great story. i regret that my Dad never had the chance to hunt hogs with me: He would have loved it.

 

[Patocazador]

My dad was not a hunter although he posed with other people's kills.
He and another neophyte who worked with him heard there were Russian Boars all over the place around Tellico, Tenn. They got their guns (a .38 special and a .380 ) and drove to the end of a dirt road. They split up and hours later my lost dad wandered into a farmstead. He was immediately accosted by 3 men who asked what he was doing. He told them " hunting Russian boars". They put a shotgun in between his shoulder blades and told him that no one had ever come to their place from that direction except "revenoors". After a tense hour he convinced them he was just a city boy who didn't know squat about boars or moonshine. They eventually drove him back to the car where the other guy was waiting panicked due to the delay in their "meeting time".

 

[Choctaw]

Love that story! I'm called Grumpy Cat here at work and when I laughed aloud just now it really startled my coworkers. When I'm your dad's age I really hope my sons will include me in their hunts. You did a great job.

 

[Geno]

Great story! Thanks for sharing.

Geno