Post your oldest hunting photo you can find. Let's see some of those old rifles and the gear we all used to wear.
Let's see something old
- Thread starter Ikeepitcold
- Start date
Colorado Cowboy
Super Moderator
1954, I was 12 years old. My first wilderness, backcountry deer hunting trip. Rode horses into camp. I didn't get a deer. I am shooting my 03 Springfield, reworked military stock and iron sights. I still have the gun and shoot it today.
63 years later, still shoots sub moa.
ElkTrout
Veteran member
I like the "character" that's just in front of the trigger guard. I bet that's a story in itself.
Colorado Cowboy
Super Moderator
I made the stock about 50 years ago (one of the first I did) and honestly don't remember how it got there!
Umpqua Hunter
Veteran member
1974.....I was 10 years old at the time. I still remember my dad going to the local gun shop in Riverside California and buying a Winchester Model 70 in .243. We would often go shooting out in "Pigeon Pass" near where we lived and I got to shoot the new rifle a few times which I thought was pretty cool.
That fall my dad had booked a hunt in the Wrangel Mountains in Alaska with Doug Vaden. My dad would be hunting moose, Dall sheep for my oldest brother (15 years older than I), and caribou for my brother in law. I was along as my dad's moose hunting sidekick. I had fun in base camp exploring, throwing road apples at the girl my age in camp, finding moose sheds, fishing for grayling and listening to stories around the dinner table. I still remember the outfitter telling us how when he first discovered the lodge building it was full of hair from hibernating grizzlies.
One afternoon we went for a horseback ride along the White River. After we had turned back towards camp we came across a lone caribou bull. My brother-in-law was asked if he wanted to take him and he decided to wait (later he killed a B&C bull!). My dad then asked me if I wanted to shoot it. Up to that point I had absolutely NO idea I was hunting. I took a "rest" prone over my dad and with his breathing the crosshairs were all over the place. A couple shots later I had my first big game animal ever. I later learned the outfitter had told my dad he enjoyed having kids along on the hunts and if my dad bought me a tag, the he would let me take a caribou for free. That was my first an only big game animal until I moved to Oregon at 18 years of age.
My dad cultivated my love for hunting and fishing. I've since lost my dad and mom in an auto accident in 1999. But I know that one day we will see each other again.
That fall my dad had booked a hunt in the Wrangel Mountains in Alaska with Doug Vaden. My dad would be hunting moose, Dall sheep for my oldest brother (15 years older than I), and caribou for my brother in law. I was along as my dad's moose hunting sidekick. I had fun in base camp exploring, throwing road apples at the girl my age in camp, finding moose sheds, fishing for grayling and listening to stories around the dinner table. I still remember the outfitter telling us how when he first discovered the lodge building it was full of hair from hibernating grizzlies.
One afternoon we went for a horseback ride along the White River. After we had turned back towards camp we came across a lone caribou bull. My brother-in-law was asked if he wanted to take him and he decided to wait (later he killed a B&C bull!). My dad then asked me if I wanted to shoot it. Up to that point I had absolutely NO idea I was hunting. I took a "rest" prone over my dad and with his breathing the crosshairs were all over the place. A couple shots later I had my first big game animal ever. I later learned the outfitter had told my dad he enjoyed having kids along on the hunts and if my dad bought me a tag, the he would let me take a caribou for free. That was my first an only big game animal until I moved to Oregon at 18 years of age.
My dad cultivated my love for hunting and fishing. I've since lost my dad and mom in an auto accident in 1999. But I know that one day we will see each other again.
Wow, that might be one of the coolest stories I have read in a while.1974.....I was 10 years old at the time. I still remember my dad going to the local gun shop in Riverside California and buying a Winchester Model 70 in .243. We would often go shooting out in "Pigeon Pass" near where we lived and I got to shoot the new rifle a few times which I thought was pretty cool.
That fall my dad had booked a hunt in the Wrangel Mountains in Alaska with Doug Vaden. My dad would be hunting moose, Dall sheep for my oldest brother (15 years older than I), and caribou for my brother in law. I was along as my dad's moose hunting sidekick. I had fun in base camp exploring, throwing road apples at the girl my age in camp, finding moose sheds, fishing for grayling and listening to stories around the dinner table. I still remember the outfitter telling us how when he first discovered the lodge building it was full of hair from hibernating grizzlies.
One afternoon we went for a horseback ride along the White River. After we had turned back towards camp we came across a lone caribou bull. My brother-in-law was asked if he wanted to take him and he decided to wait (later he killed a B&C bull!). My dad then asked me if I wanted to shoot it. Up to that point I had absolutely NO idea I was hunting. I took a "rest" prone over my dad and with his breathing the crosshairs were all over the place. A couple shots later I had my first big game animal ever. I later learned the outfitter had told my dad he enjoyed having kids along on the hunts and if my dad bought me a tag, the he would let me take a caribou for free. That was my first an only big game animal until I moved to Oregon at 18 years of age.
My dad cultivated my love for hunting and fishing. I've since lost my dad and mom in an auto accident in 1999. But I know that one day we will see each other again.
This is one of my favorite threads... here's my contribution. The year was 1993, I was 15 years old, the location; Deer Camp in "da nort woods" of Michigan's Upper Peninsula. My Dad and I both killed bucks on opening day. This was in a place where killing two bucks in a year for an entire camp was pretty good, let alone the same day! It was also "pre-wolf," now the fellas who still hunt that country goes years between even seeing bucks. Sad state of affairs but this is a memory that I'll always cherish.
BrandonM
Active Member
- Nov 9, 2011
- 201
- 233
1974.....I was 10 years old at the time. I still remember my dad going to the local gun shop in Riverside California and buying a Winchester Model 70 in .243. We would often go shooting out in "Pigeon Pass" near where we lived and I got to shoot the new rifle a few times which I thought was pretty cool.
That fall my dad had booked a hunt in the Wrangel Mountains in Alaska with Doug Vaden. My dad would be hunting moose, Dall sheep for my oldest brother (15 years older than I), and caribou for my brother in law. I was along as my dad's moose hunting sidekick. I had fun in base camp exploring, throwing road apples at the girl my age in camp, finding moose sheds, fishing for grayling and listening to stories around the dinner table. I still remember the outfitter telling us how when he first discovered the lodge building it was full of hair from hibernating grizzlies.
One afternoon we went for a horseback ride along the White River. After we had turned back towards camp we came across a lone caribou bull. My brother-in-law was asked if he wanted to take him and he decided to wait (later he killed a B&C bull!). My dad then asked me if I wanted to shoot it. Up to that point I had absolutely NO idea I was hunting. I took a "rest" prone over my dad and with his breathing the crosshairs were all over the place. A couple shots later I had my first big game animal ever. I later learned the outfitter had told my dad he enjoyed having kids along on the hunts and if my dad bought me a tag, the he would let me take a caribou for free. That was my first an only big game animal until I moved to Oregon at 18 years of age.
My dad cultivated my love for hunting and fishing. I've since lost my dad and mom in an auto accident in 1999. But I know that one day we will see each other again.
What an awesome story and and awesome pic!
Colorado Cowboy
Super Moderator
Let me add a little more about our annual family High Sierra deer hunting trip. My Grandfather, Dad & Uncle started hunting this particular area right after WWII, having Red's Meadows Pack Station near Mammoth Mt pack us into the backcountry, always to the same camp. My first trip was in the picture in 1954. I went again in 1955. My Dad took me out of school for a week on the condition I get good grades. I missed the years I was in high school & college as I played football. Then I was in the Army for 2 years. I started hunting with them again in 1966 and never missed a year until I retired in 2000. If you look at my profile and look at my High Sierra Deer hunt album you will see some of the deer I took, also some Piute Cutthroat Trout. There is one picture of all of the family on the last hunt I went on and my Dad was there too at 90 years old. We shot some great bucks over the years, but hunting has declined a lot.
In the 70's Congress created the Ansel Adams Wilderness area and our camp was right in the middle of it. Things changed a lot. We had hauled in a bag of cement, mixed it with sand and made a concrete and rock cook/fireplace with a nice piece of steel we hauled in for the cooktop. Packed in one year and it was destroyed, along with a steel box full of cast iron fry pans, & dutch oven. Meat pole was down and our big campfire pit was destroyed. Forest Service said no improvements, everything must be returned to original, pre "white man" pristine condition. Totally heartbroken after that. All the "improvements" at "our" camp were destroyed. They were there for anybody to use, we were only there a couple of weeks a year. Asinine!
I have hundreds of slides and old pictures that really are a treasure to me. My son has gone with me (and his Grandpa) 6 or 7 times. Last trip was in 2013 when we scattered my Dad's ashes at his favorite spot. My cousins just don't have the desire to hunt much. Times change.................
This is from 1955, my Dad.
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Timberstalker
Veteran member
That's a great photo. I love the wool pants your dad is wearing, and of corse your in jeans. Great memories
I slept in that morning, shot that buck the evening of the day before, dad went back out that's why he's all dolled up. We all wore wool and down, only way to keep warm from daylight till dark sitting a stand, back then anyway.
SteveCNJ
New Member
- Oct 24, 2017
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SteveCNJ
New Member
- Oct 24, 2017
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I think this pheasant hunt with my buddy Pope (I'm on the right) was in 1970. I believe I was shooting a Beretta BL2 12 ga. O/U.
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SteveCNJ
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- Oct 24, 2017
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