How did we ever do it? Hunting years back.

I've hunted for forty years and in that time I hunted in three provinces in all seasons and all weather imagineable. Slept in cars,under the stars, in tents, cabins and the back of my truck. This year a buddy and I are using a fabrene garage tent with a grease barrel for a stove and it works great. I still use a lever action winchester most of the time and the cooey 840 20gauge I got when I was twelve. Not much has changed over the years, still hunting with the same guys after all these years. The last of the "old timers" of our group just passed away a couple weeks ago, so for rifle season I will hunt with the 30-30 he left me.
 
I used to bring my shotgun to school, throw it in my locker for the day then jump in my truck after school and go pounding the sides of the railway tracks and bush lots for Cottontails, Pheasants and Grey Squirrels. Sometimes I would throw in some waders and go jump shooting ducks.
 
You'll rarely see a hunter, more than a stones throw away from a mortorized vehicle, anymore.

They don't want to get back to nature as much as they want to get away from the ol' lady.
 
Bryan said:
I've hunted for forty years and in that time I hunted in three provinces in all seasons and all weather imagineable. Slept in cars,under the stars, in tents, cabins and the back of my truck. This year a buddy and I are using a fabrene garage tent with a grease barrel for a stove and it works great. I still use a lever action winchester most of the time and the cooey 840 20gauge I got when I was twelve. Not much has changed over the years, still hunting with the same guys after all these years. The last of the "old timers" of our group just passed away a couple weeks ago, so for rifle season I will hunt with the 30-30 he left me.
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I like your way of thinking friend. I have used my father's 30-30 in the past, but this year it's a Hawken for the very first time for myself.
My Dad has since passed away but with his penchant for western regalia I strongly suspect he would approve of my choice.
 
My dad was a junior member of the family hunting camp. Him, his uncles, cousins and a very select friend each had a 1/10th share in a log cabin which served as the family gathering point for the men each hunting season. There were few deer shot, one or two bears, but much bull shot and countless hands of Hearts dealt. If the camp was exceedingly lucky, someone would knock down a deer. Most years no one saw or shot at anything. When the snoring and farting got to be too much, the camp was expanded with a boudoir to the side.

As a boy visiting, I remember the rifles on racks over the front windows, saggy army surplus bunks and mattresses, a huge dining table, a well-loved cookstove, a propane fridge, and a 12" cube 'cubby' for personal stuff. My dad's had a box of ammo, a bag of mints and maybe a book. Others' had their liquor and magazines. There was a topographic map on the back wall above the table with pencil marks for the kills. And, of course a frozen outhouse toilet seat for a small boy to perch upon. No one wore colours except for an orange vest over their red wool jackets, wool work pants and laceup rubber 'gum' boots.
 
The first time I went hunting was with my Dad when I was 13. He took me out of school and we would leave Friday morning; the bay he used to hunt was a 4 hour boat ride. We would arrive, and after mooring up the boat, go to the brook and get some water for cooking. Sleep in the boat that night (it was kind of hard the first night, due to smelling the bilge and diesel fuel), and rise well before daybreak. Fire up the wood stove, made from an old steel outboard motor tank. The tank was upside down so the kettle would not roll off the stove. Row ashore in the dory, and haul her up on shore so she would be there when we got back.

If my Dad and his buddy had caribou licenses; we would walk in "on the hills". If they had a moose license they would go "in the path". Hopefully shoot a nice caribou, quarter it, skin it, and start "packing up the bundles". My Dad and his buddy would take the hind quarter and front shoulders. Me and the other guy that was there (my dad's buddys son), would take the ribs, liver, kidneys, and heart. I slept well that night.

If they were fortunate enough to shoot a moose, we would sleep in intil 8 and go ashore again and walk in and lug the rest of the meat out. Sometimes he would bring out the head to make "bronze" (head cheese, I guess). If they did not have time to pack out the heads, they would just take the tougue.

It would now be a three hour walk back to the dory. My Dad would let me carry his .303 (he still uses it today) for a while.

My Dad lugged out meat all of his hunting years. He is still in good shape, and at 72 I would not want to mess with him.
 
We were stationed in Toronto for my high school years in the sixties. I would take my shotgun plus small bag to school on a Friday, at noon I would take off down to the Bay St. bus terminal and catch the bus to my grandparents place in Schomberg. My Grandpa and I would hunt jackrabbits Saturday, my parents would come up Sunday, stay for diner and then fetch me back home. Used to be real good jack hunting in that area at the time.

I told that story to someone last year and they were dumbfounded that I took a gun to school and never suffered any repercussions. Hell nobody even gave me a second glance as I wasn't the only one doing it. One year I never had a full sized locker so one of my teachers who also hunted and shot trap as I did used to put my gun in by his desk for safe keeping. I'd just quietly go in a get in when I was leaving. They were never really concerned that I was skipping classes Friday afternoon either.

Times have changed as I understand the Swat team fellas would be a little upset if you did that sort of thing now.
 
One thing that has changed in Toronto is the amount of gun stores. It’s funny the city was a safer place when there were more gun stores and it was a regular occurrence bank managers and store owners could carry. Many long term residents remember that, not the new ones though. My friend’s dad was a bank manager and he carried a 38 special.
I know being there in the 80’s (never lived their but did have family their) it seemed there was a surplus store or pawn shop buying and selling firearms on every corner. My boss who grew up in Toronto (he is 72 this year) tells me about taking 22’s to the dump to shoot rats, police never batted an eye just said watch the traffic on their bikes. He also bought and sold guns as a kid, fix up an old Lee Enfield or Winchester and a young kid could make some money, I would like to see a young kid try that now.
I kind of preferred the days before PAL’s and POL’s. The nanny state didn’t keep firearms out of the hands of kids, dad did. You went in most houses and people displayed their firearms in racks not locked in gun safes.
I guess it’s true, take away all the guns and only the criminals have them, just look at the gun crime in Toronto now.
 
Back in 86 I drove around with rifles in the side window of my blaser, and not too long ago I could take a flight out of Toronto with an ammo pouch and a knife on my belt.
 
When I was a kid, I, and most of the kids I knew weren't even allowed toy guns for fear we might grow into men or something else frightening. So, yeah. This thread is frigging awesome.
 
used to bring my old mans double 12ga to school, bus driver would store it under the bus and tell me to bring it to the office when i got to school an the vp would put it in his office utill granda showed up to pick me up usually early, he was more excited than i was to get ot the cabin, portage two ponds, at least we had the 2.5 hp seagull outboard lol
adam
 
Looking through what you guys have posted brings back a lot of memories. I carried my shotgun across the local golf course to hunt bunnies on the farmland on the other side. My uncle, and my grandfather used to carry handguns for signalling when we deer hunted.
We hunted deer in red checked plaid shirts, and funny little caps that turned red when you flipped over the covering, or were camo if you didn't, for ducks.
Road hunters lined the highways, hunting the road allowance of some pretty busy thoroughfares.
 
30+ years ago, Saturday afternoons were spent with a .22 in the pasture. No one wondered where I was or if I was ok, because that is what all boys my age did. When we went to town for the mail, there was a rifle on the rack in the back window of the truck and we left it unlocked - with the keys in the ignition. We didn't lock our houses either. Safer days ...
 
This thread really makes you think about all the BS gimmicks that are marketed towards new age hunters.
 
At 12 years old buying 3 inch 410 shells for $1.00 a box of 25. Slipping down into the states and buying 22 ammo for 29 cents for 50. 50 - 22 shorts were 19 cents. Gas at 25 cents a gallon.
Walk for 2 miles to a duck hunting place with 3 shells. Walk/ski for 5 miles to check beaver traps.
Actually get off the couch to change the channel on the TV. Now I don't watch TV at all.
 
i really wish i could have gotten to experience those days. atleast saturday afternoon if we werent workin we were fishing ride the bicyles a few country blocks to a "new" creek and try it out
 
Kids with guns were totally accepted in rural Saskatchewan, as recently as my childhood in the 1970's. I would walk out of my door in any direction with a .22 or a shotgun and hunt anywhere I wanted as long as it was in season and I could eat it or use the fur. I remember coming across two Catholic nuns one October morning while shooting muskrats and trapping on a slough on the Convent land. One asked me if she could shoot my rifle since it had been a while since she took her vows and she kinda missed shooting. Or another time in August when my older (14 yr old) buddy and I were stopped by a couple of RCMP officers while trying our his new Winchester pump 12 ga. on blackbirds passing overhead at the neighbours slough. They were amused and told us to carry on, and don't shoot anything that wasn't in season. I bought my first shotgun, an Ithaca 37 12 ga. in the Sears store in downtown Saskatoon. I was 14. I was accompanied by my Dad, but the clerk asked if this was for me, i said yes, then I laid $135 on the counter, and that was that.
On the other hand, we were never allowed to "play" with guns at all. Any pointing of a toy gun at a person was cause to have it locked up for a month, Second offence was destruction of the toy. I never needed a second warning! Guns are to me a symbol of the most amazing trust a parent can have in a child. Kids raised right respond to that kind of trust. But I am disgusted by paintball and laser tag games making "fun" of shooting people. I must be a fudd.
 
I'm a brand new hunter and already feel like a throwback to the old days. I skipped camo for one pair of grey and one pair of olive wool pants. My guns are all older than I am, and I'm not young anymore. Better a late start than no start but I'm bummed to miss out on the gun rack in the back window of the pickup.
 
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