Okay.... Father's Day is coming up. Some of the best times I ever had were with my dad at "The Shack" in a small small small town in Mississippi. I'd give about anything to spend a weekend hunting with him again, but he's gone now. I'm sure you guys and gals have some fond memories as well. What about the 'reader's digest' version of some of them as Father's Day gets closer. I know I'd enjoy reading them.
Thanks for the memories Dads!!
ONE of mine would be when I got a 20 gauge pump to replace my single shot .410 (still have the .410). We set out into the woods to stir up some "bushytails" and I went to town. Shortly after missing everything I shot at, I told him I thought there was something wrong with it. Never hesitating he just said "Okay, let's swap". Immediately I was knockin 'em out of the trees with my trusty .410. HOWEVER, he was hitting just as many with the 20 gauge pump. He told me that it seemed to shoot fine for him and we swapped back. THIS time he only gave me one shell at a time. Amazingly enough the gun fixed itself.
One of the many lessons he taught me.... Make the first shot count like it's the only one you got.... even if you have more. 
I remember his smile, his laugh, his picking at me the whole walk back (no ATV's then... just walked and talked there and back). I remember us cleaning the squirrels and getting them ready to make stew for everyone that night at "The Shack". The old gas stove and dim lighting, the metal table and wood benches we all ate on. And yes... the story telling that always ensued after we sat to eat.
Mostly I remember that feeling. That there was no place on earth any better to be, at that moment in time.
Thanks Dad.
Thanks for the memories Dads!!
ONE of mine would be when I got a 20 gauge pump to replace my single shot .410 (still have the .410). We set out into the woods to stir up some "bushytails" and I went to town. Shortly after missing everything I shot at, I told him I thought there was something wrong with it. Never hesitating he just said "Okay, let's swap". Immediately I was knockin 'em out of the trees with my trusty .410. HOWEVER, he was hitting just as many with the 20 gauge pump. He told me that it seemed to shoot fine for him and we swapped back. THIS time he only gave me one shell at a time. Amazingly enough the gun fixed itself.
One of the many lessons he taught me.... Make the first shot count like it's the only one you got.... even if you have more. I remember his smile, his laugh, his picking at me the whole walk back (no ATV's then... just walked and talked there and back). I remember us cleaning the squirrels and getting them ready to make stew for everyone that night at "The Shack". The old gas stove and dim lighting, the metal table and wood benches we all ate on. And yes... the story telling that always ensued after we sat to eat.
Mostly I remember that feeling. That there was no place on earth any better to be, at that moment in time.
Thanks Dad.
I just had a 10 year head start on you, that's all.