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  1. #1
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    Your most memorable hunt(?)

    Waterfowl, south central Nebraska marsh:

    College buddies and I would gather in Kearney every fall to catch up on life, down a few adult beverages, and chase ducks. I was living in Missouri at the time and would make the long drive early in the week...scout around...do some hunting...find the ducks...and prepare for everyone to come in Thursday night.

    I always wanted a big yellow lab, and got ol Murphy in 1996. Spent lots of time together training, making mistakes, learning, enjoying the outdoors together.

    November 2003 Murph and I got to Kearney early in the week before all my buddies showed up. The next morning set out for a public marsh hoping to see some ducks flying.

    I had scouted the marsh the afternoon before and found good water. That morning in the pre-dawn darkness I noticed a light in the spot I had scouted. Time for plan B.

    As Murph and I slogged through the knee deep marsh towards my second spot, I noticed the headlamps of more hunters going that way. Busted.

    Decision time: keep walking around looking for good water, or make the best of what we had. I found a little opening in the reeds about 20 yards across. There wasn't much to hide in, so I pulled some camo netting on the reeds in front of me, sat down on my camo bucket, and did my best to hide myself and the 95 pound yellow dog.

    Only put out a robo and 5-6 floater duck decoys. Didn't think the day was going to amount to anything, but a day in the marsh with my dog was better than sitting in the truck. Water was about knee deep, so Murph could stand. And it wasn't cold at all...I was watching him closely to make sure he was okay when his head spun around and he locked on to something in the sky.

    Small group of Mallards circled as the other hunting parties gave them everything they had on the duck calls. I gave a few soft quacks and a feeding chuckle and before I knew it they were feet down right above my decoys.

    I stood and picked out one green-head, dropping him with my second shot. Murph was on him quickly and back at my side in no time...his eyes scanning the horizon for more ducks.

    10 minutes later another group, and another green-head laying in the marsh. Murphy had to use his nose on this duck. He found that drake in no time.

    Over the next 30 minutes the same scenario played out over and over again...small bunch of ducks circle...other hunters calling furiously...ducks trying to land in my little spot...one green-head falling from the sky...my big old yellow dog doing his thing, just like we practiced.

    Back then the limit was 6 ducks per day, only five could be Mallards. Thankfully the good Lord saw fit to send me and Murphy a pintail to round out our limit.

    As I was picking up my decoys a hunter from the other group walked over and asked if I wanted to hunt with them. I explained that I had my limit and was heading back to town. He laughed and said, "Good for you. We were getting tired of all the ducks piling in to your spot..." I wished them luck and headed back to the truck.

    Took this picture of Murphy and the daily limit.

    Click image for larger version. 

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    Murph earned some hotel bed time that day...

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    I'll always remember that hunt with my old friend Murphy. He lived to be 12 years old and was a great family dog for our two daughters. I miss him.

    So what was your most memorable hunt?

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  3. #2
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    I am sure a lot of you have read some of my posts here on the Forum. I started hunting when I was really young (7) and have been taught by my Dad. Dad loved anything to do with hunting or fishing. I was his oldest child and only son, so you know I got special attention. I hunted and fished with Dad all over the southwest and Mexico. As soon as I got in high school I started playing football and baseball, so during ball seasons, I didn't get to do much other than school & sports. Got a scholarship for football at a major university, so 4 more years go by. Got drafted into the Army during the Viet Nam era, so another 2 years gone.

    Once I got out of the Army, I went to work and Dad and I started to do a lot more hunting & fishing. Our family did a wilderness horseback packin for deer in the High Sierras in Calif every year. I did at least 25 of them(can't really remember how many!). Dad and I went to Wyoming for the first time in 1979. We also did a lot of long range multi day fishing in Baja.

    The hunting trip that stands out for me was in 2008 after I retired and moved here to Colorado. My Dad drew an elk tag and I decided I would be his guide. Dad was 90 and still pretty mobile. He also drew a limited access tag to Lone Mesa State Park, which is only 30 miles or so from my place. I did a lot of summer volunteering at LMSP, so I knew it really well.

    A couple of weeks before season, Dad came to my place from his place in Imperial Valley in Calif. It is 165' below sea lever and my place is 6800', so some acclimation was needed. We went to the range to sightin Dad's old sporterized 03 Springfield 30-06. He was all over the target. I decided he needed to shoot my .300 Wby with a muzzle brake on it. He put 3 shots dead center at 100 yards.

    We went to orientation the night before opening and got everything ready for Sat morning at 3:30 AM. We checked in the next morning at went to a place I knew held some elk. Nothing that am. Back to my truck for lunch and a snooze. We went to a spot overlooking a small draw coming out of an aspen grove. About an hour before dark the elk started feeding out of the aspens. Dad had a cow tag so we waited for a cow to get within a couple of hundred yards. Funny thing is a really nice 6x6 came with 50 yds and Dad really got excited. Then a big cow stepped out of the oak brush at about 100 yards and Dad popped her. Broke her back and she dropped immediately. He started yelling and jumping up and down like it was his first elk! We were able to get my truck to her and a couple of other hunters helped us load her. It was now dark, so I didn't get any pictured that were worth anything. Dad stayed another week and we butchered his animal.
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    Last edited by Colorado Cowboy; 12-31-2017 at 05:59 PM.
    Colorado Cowboy
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    "My Father always considered a walk in the mountains as the equivalent of church going."
    Aldous Huxley

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  5. #3
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    Quote Originally Posted by Colorado Cowboy View Post
    I am sure a lot of you have read some of my posts here on the Forum. I started hunting when I was really young (7) and have been taught by my Dad. Dad loved anything to do with hunting or fishing. I was his oldest child and only son, so you know I got special attention. I hunted and fished with Dad all over the southwest and Mexico. As soon as I got in high school I started playing football and baseball, so during ball seasons, I didn't get to do much other than school & sports. Got a scholarship for football at a major university, so 4 more years go by. Got drafted into the Army during the Viet Nam era, so another 2 years gone.

    Once I got out of the Army, I went to work and Dad and I started to do a lot more hunting & fishing. Our family did a wilderness horseback packin for deer in the High Sierras in Calif every year. I did at least 25 of them(can't really remember how many!). Dad and I went to Wyoming for the first time in 1979. We also did a lot of long range multi day fishing in Baja.

    The hunting trip that stands out for me was in 2008 after I retired and moved here to Colorado. My Dad drew an elk tag and I decided I would be his guide. Dad was 90 and still pretty mobile. He also drew a limited access tag to Lone Mesa State Park, which is only 30 miles or so from my place. I did a lot of summer volunteering at LMSP, so I knew it really well.

    A couple of weeks before season, Dad came to my place from his place in Imperial Valley in Calif. It is 165' below sea lever and my place is 6800', so some acclimation was needed. We went to the range to sightin Dad's old sporterized 03 Springfield 30-06. He was all over the target. I decided he needed to shoot my .300 Wby with a muzzle brake on it. He put 3 shots dead center at 100 yards.

    We went to orientation the night before opening and got everything ready for Sat morning at 3:30 AM. We checked in the next morning at went to a place I knew held some elk. Nothing that am. Back to my truck for lunch and a snooze. We went to a spot overlooking a small draw coming out of an aspen grove. About an hour before dark the elk started feeding out of the aspens. Dad had a cow tag so we waited for a cow to get within a couple of hundred yards. Funny thing is a really nice 6x6 came with 50 yds and Dad really got excited. Then a big cow stepped out of the oak brush at about 100 yards and Dad popped her. Broke her back and she dropped immediately. He started yelling and jumping up and down like it was his first elk! We were able to get my truck to her and a couple of other hunters helped us load her. It was now dark, so I didn't get any pictured that were worth anything. Dad stayed another week and we butchered his animal.
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    I want to post a few more pictures. Took my Dad to Diamond Valley Lake for a guided fishing on Fathers Day a few years after I retired, lots of trout & bass. Also a pict of salmon Dad & I caught in a rented skiff out of Ft. Bragg, Calif. Also him on his last horseback wilderness trip in the Sierras. Miss my Dad a lot, he passed away in 2012.
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    Last edited by Colorado Cowboy; 12-31-2017 at 06:01 PM.
    Colorado Cowboy
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    The Original Rocket Scientist-Retired
    "My Father always considered a walk in the mountains as the equivalent of church going."
    Aldous Huxley

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  7. #4
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    wow, hard to pick.... gonna have to give it some thought.

    I know most would go with one that ended in a kill, or maybe last hunt with a lifetime hunting buddy but ,to be honest, I think some of my favorites were those hunts where everything that could go wrong, did.
    AS GOES THE CHURCH, SO GOES THE NATION

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  9. #5
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    I have quite a few memorable hunts. Have some with my dad, then I have some with antelope, bears, deer (All 5 Species), elk, mountain goat, sheep. I don't think I can't really choose just one.

  10. #6
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    I hate to say it but they all are. The ones that went the wrong way and the ones the ended in success. My only memory of me hunting with my dad is when I was only 5 years old and the old car broke down, he never hunted after that due to the work that he was doing and never being back in our home state to go out.

    My first year with a tag will always be in my mind. I was 16 and opening day it snowed 3' on us as we sat under a cedar tree. The year we were evacuated due to a forest fire started by a hunter. My first archery hunt when a buck jumped my string and I ended up hitting him in the rear. I tracked him down the mountain to 50 yards away from my camp, then back up the mountain to loose the blood trail. I talked to a hunter the next day that said that he had found a buck stuck on a fence and dead with a arrow stuck in his rear, I just asked him if I could have my arrow back. My first outfitted hunt for a grizzly in British Colombia with a 23 mile ride into the wilderness on horses. My first elk that was shot in a area that no one went into. That if why there was a elk in there for me to shoot, it took 3 days to pack him out.

    Did I say that they all were my favorite and most memorable hunts?
    If you don't care where you are, you are not lost....

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  12. #7
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    I agree with Jim. They all are memorable in one way or another. The ones I recall most are the ones that got away.

    But my favorites are the ones where my Wife or kids are the shooter.

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  14. #8
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    Elk hunt with my dad in the early 1980s. A friend and I did all the scouting and tracking, dad had lung cancer and he was in his early 60s. He got his bull on the last day at sunset. Dad got busted as he got out of the truck and had to stand in the off hand position with his 30-06 for about 20 minutes before that bull moved out past a tree for my dad to get a good shot. My dad had dreamed of hunting elk all his life but never got drawn (even in the 80s Arizona sucked for getting an elk tag) so this was his first time, it was also his last time for elk, he lived for quite a few more years but he was too weak and too easily winded to hunt elk. But it was great to see him take his first bull on his first hunt, it was his hunt of a life time and mine.

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  16. #9
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    Great stories guys. I would have to say my Bighorn sheep hunt is one that I have to go with. Not many things went as planned and it was the most mentally challenging hunt of my life. It was a two week long solo hunt with temps in the mid 90’s in very steep county. I finally sealed the deal on a stalk that ended with a 18 yard shot, what a hunt that was. I think about it all the time, how hard it was and how I can’t believe I did it. I will never get to do it again and to be honest not sure I would want to.

    If anyone has EHJ 132 laying around the story was in that issue.
    Last edited by Timberstalker; 01-01-2018 at 12:25 PM.

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  18. #10
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    Looking forward to reading the stories in this one! Love the pictures as well!
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