I started hunting with dad when I was about 8 years old; dad loved to quail hunt, would sometimes squirrel hunt, but rarely deer hunted.
Dad never got a deer, but one of his deer hunting stories was when a buck caught him, literally, "with his pants down".
While hunting in the dense vegetation of Northeast Texas; "nature called".
"Dad had to go!" He leaned his gun up against a tree, and "got down" a few feet away to take care of "his business".
He had the "white paper work" in hand when a curious buck stepped out. The deer seemed confused about the strange looking "whitetail" (dad).
Dad dropped the tissue, and tried to shuffle over a couple of feet to reach his gun. That had to be a sight! The buck got over his curiosity and took off just as dad reached for his gun.
My Granddad was a wonderful granddad. He was a kind, honest, Christian man, and a great story teller.
He took me hunting a few times, but more often fishing. A favorite story is not a hunting story, but from one our last fishing trips together.
We were in a small flat-bottomed boat when he hooked a big bass. The bass actually pulled the small boat around (a little) as grand-dad played the fish. It was a very nice 8.5 lb bass.
Granddad loved to retell the story especially as he grew older. That fish grew as he repeated the story, soon it weighed 10 pounds, and the boat was pulled all over the lake.
These men and their stories are precious to me. I'm not making fun of them. It just happens! Fishing and hunting stories get better with age.
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