Hunting with your departed Dad's gun.

tcr44

tcr44

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Yarmouth Nova Scotia
Just wondering how many guys or gals out there will intentionally carry their departed Dad's shotgun or rifle ? Every so often I hit the woods with his old Marlin 30-30 (circa 1949). Feels like he's right there with me. I grew up cherishing the old Marlin and when I was still too young to go with him ( back in the 50's) I always had the privilege of putting it back in the gun cabinet when Dad got home from a hunt. Looking forward to another trip with it this year. RIP DAD Stewart Foster Thompson 1920-1995.
 
I took my father-in-laws 270 out the first year he passed...got a moose, a deer, and a bear with it. I think he would have been pleased! :)
 
My dad never had a gun and he wasn't into Hunting. If he did and left me his gun, I'd definitely take it out in his memory.
 
Not quite the same but on the same path

My oldest son passed his PAL last year. I surprised him an SKS a graduation present.
How pi$$ed (and for how long) do you think he will be if the Libs ban it and expect him watch it get crushed.

People don’t seem to understand what sentimental value we have.

It’s like asking to take yours wedding ring.
 
I take my dad's old SXS 12 ga out a couple times a year, he didn't own a rifle was strictly a shotgunner but I do enjoy the walks with it.
Great memories of opening day duck season from when I was 12 years old, miss him still and hes been gone since 1992.
 
Buddy of mine carried a military pattern Enfield of his grandfather's until last year when i found him a Russian Toz 308 which he carried for drives but still sits with the Enfield. My grandfather put his rifle down in 1946 and didnt pick one up again. Father never hunted so cant say i have the experience that others do. I think inam the only guy at camp hunting with a non-passed down gun.

I did buy a gift for my daughter for when shes older (currently 7yrs old) a Ruby Extra 22lr revolver. She is named ruby of course....i did see ome3done up with gold leaf in an auction a while ago but someone really wanted it more and outbid me a ridiculous amount for it.
 
I don’t hunt but I got my dad’s Beretta 424 sxs. I remember running patched through the barrel as a kid.

I’ve shot Skeet and trap with it. Gets a lot of compliments.
 
I carry my Grandmothers Remington 742 .308 carbine. She stopped Moose hunting at around 85 years old. Couldn't shoulder it anymore. Hell will freeze over before that gun goes anywhere.
 
CrazyNut said:
My dad never had a gun and he wasn't into Hunting. If he did and left me his gun, I'd definitely take it out in his memory.
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Neither of my parents were into guns and/or hunting, yet they got me my first .22 for my birthday, and a .303 British for the following Christmas.
Lots of partridge and 'hogs with this Russian .22, and had many memorable moose hunts with the .303. Like a fool, I sold over time, when things got tough.
But I still remember being with my dad when I bought a Win. 370 20 gauge(25 bucks) at a CTC scratch & dent sale in Kirkland Lake.
That gun has taken the bulk of my small game, and it shows it's mileage. I only wish I had someone to leave it too.
 
His M88 that he bought when he moved here before I was invented.It kinda just become mine.

I made a load for it , didn't expect it to shot as well as it does now.

His grandson got his .270 which stays with me for now.
 
Ended up with Dad's Savage 99 Deluxe in 308 which my Mom bought him from Sears and his Model 12, 30" full choke, which came again when Mom was tired of listening to him complain he would miss opening day of pheasant season cause Sears sent him a 28"Modified gun, which was no good in his opinion, and he sent back. Mom, bless her heart, went down to the local hardware store and paid $28 so the old boy could hunt opening day.

Spent many a day afield with the Model 12 as a youth and look back now at how simple life was. Since then I have acquired my fair share of firearms and never got time to use the Model 12 or Savage 99. Time passes and we all get older and kids grow up. My nephew and a bunch of his buddies purchase a cottage in the Parry Sound area and low and behold it was a cottage my Dad, uncles and friends would rent to hunt deer and moose.

The Savage has been on a few hunts out of the same cottage as the old man hunted for 30+ years. Seems fitting
The Model 12 went to my younger nephew for him to enjoy and he informs me it shoots critters just like always.

Finally about 2 years ago I was able to buy back one of Dad's guns a Remington 788 in 22-250. I was with the old boy the Saturday he bought it and was 11-12 years old at the time and it was quite an adventure to say the least. I was lucky to find it and still reigns doom on coyotes and I don't want to count the jack rabbits I shot with it as a kid.

If you got 'em use 'em cause at this point our kids may not have the plaeasure
 
Dad bought a brand spanking new Winchester Model 70 Featherweight in .308 Winchester, in 1958. I have that now. Never gonna change that one. It has an off center firing pin hole, and some badly done re-checkering by a friend of his, but it shoots OK, has got me a fair few deer and one moose. As close as I will ever get to going hunting with my old man.

Every year I make it a point to dig out some of my reserve stock of 2 1/2 inch 12 Gauge shells, and whack a few starlings. My grandfather's double was a gift from his sister, her name appears in the Army and Navy C.S.L. records, as the purchaser, she gave it to my Grandfather as a gift about the time that he was sent up into the wilds of BC, to make, (or not) his fortune. My father was the youngest son of that particular experience.
Before my step-mother decided to burn all his stuff on her way out, or maybe it was her new boyfriend, I had already been given those two. It amounts to the majority of what I got from my own family's history, out of his estate, so they are reasonably precious to me!
 
I take the skippers Stevens single 16 gauge at least once a year, always when I'm alone. The nostalgia I experience with that little gun in my hands is unreal. He told me so often how he couldn't afford slugs so he would make paper cartridge cut offs when a moose needed dispatching. Cut offs made a #6 round leave the barrel as a slug. (illegal now) Not really good in a full choke, so he had the 16g cut to 20"(cylinder bore.) We grew up when game was subsistence, but the hunt always enjoyable. I tasted beef first when I was 11 years old. My mother said I told her the meat tasted funny, and left most of it on my plate! One of our favourites was young loon, and young geese that were raised by our broody hens. The real treats were lynx loin and woodcock, served together. Woodcock which I haven't seen for years anywhere near Red Indian, was a favourite of our native people. This will soon be a novel so I'll give it a break!
 
trevj said:
...As close as I will ever get to going hunting with my old man.

My grandfather did a lot of hunting, but mostly before I was interested. I use his rifle now, a 1947 model 70 in 30/06, and think of him every time. A couple years ago I refinished the stock, as most of the original finish had peeled off. I couldn't bring myself to remove any of the dents or scrapes because they each told part of his story. I used acetone to remove the original varnish, and replaced it with a few coats of tung oil.
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I lost my father to cancer in 1989, and there is no time I feel closer to him than when carrying his old Remington 740 in .308 in the November deer woods. Dad loved hunting whitetails with friends & family, and it was then that he was at his happiest. Although I have firearms that are more accurate, or lighter or just a fine piece of craftmanship, I end up reaching for the 740. Part of the wood finish worn off by his hands, part by mine, the sentimental value makes it my most treasured firearm. Out there in the woods it feels good in my hands, like an extension of my body. I remember my Father and all the good times we had, and the newer memories from the field made since it became mine.

Like every year, this deer hunting season will be in the memory of my Father, Harold Edmund Ogilvie. The man who instilled my love of the outdoors and taught me what it means to be a man.
 
Not my father-son story."Back in the day" my brother bought a Parker Hale .270 from the local Canadian Tire. He hunted with it every year from age 17 until his passing from brain cancer 5 years ago at 55. Many deer and groundhogs fell to the .270 over those years. Now his oldest son has it, and I'm sure HE'LL pass it on to HIS oldest son when the time comes !
 
Got my first moose with paws old gun.
Fruck'in bawrill lifted with each heart beat.
No chit.
Then I'eard me old paw whisper in me ear, left one as it's bestistted, swing, aim pretend.
Swing slowly aim pretend..
Swing more slowly, aim ……………...pull...………...bang flawp.

It wuzz awwwsum.
Had a wet arse too.
Nutt'in tuh lean awn, so plumked me arse down and yewsed me neezs.

I did looky up and say, "thanks paw".
 
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