Memories of long past hunts

kjohn said:
I think my first deer hunt was in 1965. I was 17. My Dad had passed away that Spring and I was officially a Saskatchewan grain farmer. My first rifle was a nice Churchill No.1 Mk3. I bought two Czech refurbed 98's later on that year. I don't actually remember if I shot a deer or not. Our area, 80 miles east of Regina was excellent whitetail country, and there was a hunter or two for every deer. Lots of older men hunted to help out feeding their families. Many of the hunters back then were WW2 and Korean War vets.

I have hunted whitetail off and on ever since. I didn't hunt this year, as my usual partner had plenty of meat. I won't hunt alone anymore, in case I did actually get a deer. I need another person to help out with loading, etc. Five of us went down the the Moose Mountain provincial Park in 1966 for a special season. I was the only one to shoot a deer, a nice fat young buck, full grown. It was a long day, by the time we got it gutted and by the time we worked our way back on little trails and hay sloughs. There are only two of us left, of the five two have passed on and another poor fellow has severe dementia.

Many good memories hunting with the suffering fellow. He taught me lots about driving a semi, helped me on my farms, plus we spent a lot of off time together. A big part of our old hunting grounds are all cleared of bush now, plus posted. I guess its time for old guys like me to be satisfied with our memories and let the new people go to it.
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I really feel for you on the posted land. We had a favorite spot we hunted. It was crown, but to get to it we crossed a narrow strip of private. We didn't even know it. Until one year we went in, there was a big sign, and a guy sitting there. It seems the land owners around this section of crown got together and decided not to let anyone in. It is possible to get there by boat, and we did that for a few years, or by a road allowance, but that went over the top of a damned steep rock and had to be on foot.
 
The canoe hunt.
Damn I loved doing this. Rifle in the canoe, and slowly paddling up the edge of the lake. Never took any on the lake, but it was sure a treat to do it. Hunting the creek was more productive.

One day I went out to paddle the lake, it was quite cold, and the ice was forming along the edges of the lake, keeping me further from shore than I wanted to be hidden from view. So, I landed and took up a spot I knew just up from the lake, but out of sight of the water. After about 3 hrs, I figured I best head back to warm up and get lunch.

The canoe was frozen in.

The skimmer along the edge of the lake now extended over most of the bay.

Not my canoe, I gotta get this back. So, I get in, and it breaks free. Tried paddling, but the paddle will only break the ice if I stand up and jab at it.

Eventually I found if I moved to the rear, the front would come off the ice and I could slide forward by stabbing the paddle in the ice. Then I'd walk forward to break the ice under the canoe and repeat. About 20 minutes of this, and I made open water. I did however owe the guy a new paddle. This one is badly feathered.

Thankfully, the camp was on the deep side of the lake, no ice and no issues.
 
John Y Cannuck said:
View attachment 546059

To be fair, this one was not shot from the old trappers boat you see here, that was just the mode of recovery. It was 300yds downstream from the stand. Way out in the beaver mash. Over about four beaver dams I didn't know where there.
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Link doesn’t work for me.

I’m enjoying your stories. Completely different experiences from the wide open expanses I grew up hunting.
 
Lots of guys, even guys who run dogs, think deer move ahead of their dogs in a wave, leaving nothing behind. Not so.

Many times, and the guy walking with the dogs, I'd put up a deer after the dogs were already on a chase. Of course the standard, when you are running dogs, is to sit and wait for the dogs to come back before moving on. However, on really cold days, the guys on watch would be frozen.

This day, as I walked zig zagging SE, SW, SE, SW, covering as much area as I could, the dogs took off. As often happened, they ran the wrong way, no men in that direction. You can't cover everything. As the dogs faded in the distance, it was plain to me I would have to keep walking.

The area was moderately heavy cover, lots of bumps, overturned trees etc. Lots of places where a deer could hide, and visibility was short. I favored the '94 Winchester for this. Peep sight. My eyes were much better back then, no glasses. As I circled a small pond, up popped a buck. I wasn't fast enough. No shot. I stood and waited. I didn't think he went far, so I slowly crept up the small rise ahead, and there he was. An easy 60 yard shot for a four point. By the time I was done gutting, the dogs were making a different sound. Back tracking. No radios, or cell phones back then. Cells still don't work in that area very well. I got out my old thunder whistle and made one sharp note. I got an answering toot from the closest man, and dragged to him. We had a set of signals we used, one whistle was to identify the closest man.

It was only a couple hundred yards, not a bad drag. Then I went back to the gut pile, to pick up the dogs, now well stuffed. When I finished that run, the guy at the end had a doe down too, so it was a good morning for us.

Then, I found out the guy with the van, had got himself real cold, and decided he was done for the day and F'd off back to camp. Well FFS. How the hell do I get 7 guys back to camp in the Jeep Cherokee with two beagles, and two deer?

Beagles shared the space behind the seats with one guy, the rest were kinda piled in on top of each other, and the deer were tied on the roof. Needless to say the guy with the van took a long time to hear the end of that one.
 
Lets go way back.
This story was told to me by my uncle. The year was late 1940's early 1950'. My grandfather had lost his eldest son in WWII, the other two had just returned home. Yes, same two from the first story in this thread. The family was very poor. Work was scarce, so was game. The big trees had all been cut, and grown up in small, the soil was terrible, and families were scraping to get by.

So, Grandfather and the two boys set out deer hunting. The neighbor was a game warden, and watched everyone like a hawk, so they did have deer licenses.

The old stove in the bush, I mentioned earlier was in better shape back then. The story goes that the cook stove stove had fallen from the wagon when my great grandfather settled in the area, and broke the casting. So there it sits to this day, although there's not much left now.

This was the spot my uncle was placed at by my grandfather who then circled to push out the deer.

He'd been gone about an hour when uncle felt the dire need to drape his butt over a log. He was thus engaged when he heard a crash from the bushes, and out comes a yearling bull moose. He says it was running straight at him. So, grabbing his Lee Enfield, complete with war surplus bullets with the point filed off, he stood, and downed the moose.

Grandfather found him trying to clean his drawers with leaves from what I'm told.

Well this spot is 2 miles from the road. there are three of them to pull, but Grandfather has two wounds from WW1 so can't quite pull like the youngsters. Then there' the neighbor. For sure he'd have heard the shot.

The shooter was sent off in the old car to town to get a moose license. Grandfather stayed in case the game warden showed up. The two of them somehow got the moose out to the road, just as my uncle arrived back from the 20 mile round trip for the license. The story is that the moose came out whole, I figure it was quartered. They'd have had to do that to get it home in the car anyway.

The game warden was suspicious for years, but he never could prove it. He knew damned well there's no way grandfather would buy a moose license when moose were quite rare in the immediate area, but he couldn't prove it. The family ate well that winter.
 
Rambo
One of the 'new guys' that joined the camp, being the son of a member, came to be known as Rambo. He was a great shot or so he claimed, and at the old sand pit, he could certainly make a hunk of styrofoam that was already there jump around. We should have checked the styrofoam for holes I think.

Anyway, his reputation for missing deer despite incredible expenditure of ammunition grew with each passing year.

I've told some of his exploits before, so lets see if I can remember something new.

His very first year in camp, in fact, his first hunt. He'd been up in summer with one of the guys, and they'd made a plan. 'Rambo' would be on watch, and the other guy with his beagle would walk between the lakes and bump him a deer from the small bag of apples and small salt block they had put out up the ridge.

So, Rambo has two rifles, an M1 Carbine, and a Browning semi in 270. He took the 270, as the watch siting between the 2 lakes has a range of about 200 yards each way, in open hardwoods. The terrain is such that deer are not moving in a straight line when they run past, not just left and right, but up and down as well. Your chances of hitting a deer beyond 80 yards or so would be mostly luck. But, youth brings confidence, over confidence sadly in many cases, me too at that age. This guy would be 17?

So, down the cliff face between the lakes comes a deer, the 'dogger' would not even be started at this point, the deer is not running, but slowly picking it's way down the steep trail. It walks towards him, and at what he claimed was 100 yards. (actual was maybe 50) it stopped, broadside on to him. He decides to go for a head shot to show up everyone in camp his skill I figure. Bang, and down went the deer. He then starts looking around for his spent cartridge as a trophy for his first deer. He figured the other guy would do the gutting.

As he searches in the little bit of snow we had, he hears a noise. Looks up to see his, deer not only alive, but running full tilt for the cliff. He ran for his rifle, but the deer is out of sight.

Now we know that the deer is running in the general direction of the other guy, but, the other guy has barely started coming at this point, and the deer goes down the side of the ridge, where he does not walk, "because it's nasty".

Anyway, our hero here "Rambo" does not wait, but takes off on a run after the deer. Didn't run far, that cliff is nasty. I found his track in the snow the next day better than two miles from where the shot was made. He followed the deer for hours.

When the other guy, with the dog got to his watch, he was still not back, the dog never crossed the deer's trail until it got to the watch. Yelling eventually brought him out. The deer was never found.

Funny thing about dogs, some trails they run, some they don't. Good thing in this case, she didn't. Otherwise, this little short legged beagle (Queenie) was a decent deer hound.

Should have been booted from camp? Maybe, but, being the son of a member has it's perks, and he stayed for more "adventures"
 
My wifes first deer.
This was after my dogs had died, and no other member wanted the work worry and expense of having dogs. Thus, in this case, hubby (me) was the dog. I got to be pretty good at hound impressions, I even do a fair wolf howl. My method is to cover as much territory as possible, either making no sound at all, or, as I was this day, trying to sound like several different dogs, but only doing so periodically. The idea is so that the deer have a harder time judging your position, and thus makes it harder for them to just go around you. The section we were doing that day, the guys called "The Triangle" It was bush on one side, and the other two were bordered by a hydro line and a road. The bush is a mix of thick brush, open hardwood, small wet holes, and steep little ridges. It takes only an hour at most to 'dog' off properly. My wife was on the road side, (by road, I mean old logging road almost a skidder trail) she was the first hunter I would come to on the road side of the run. I had crossed to the hydro side, and on the way back jumped a fawn on top of one of the rock ridges. I wasn't ready as I was totally not expecting it with all the noise I'd been making, so good thing it wasn't an adult.

Shortly after that as I climbed to the top of another little rock ridge, this one just above my wife, I heard what I was pretty sure were deer in the dry leaves below me. Knowing where I was, and where my wife was, I shut up, and stopped moving to see what they would do, and to not reveal where I was. I was standing just off the best path up the ridge if they came my way, and my wife was on the road.

I could hear them milling about below me. The BANG!. My wife fired Geeze, a 44 Mag is loud when you are that close. She says, a fawn jumped the road, and that alerted her, so when the doe jumped out, she fired. When I went out she very nervously said "I think I wounded one". I asked her where she had shot, and she sent me up the road, maybe 70 yards. There was a chunk of meat on the road. When I picked that up, I spotted the deer laying in the bush beside the road. Heart shot, went all of 20 feet, blood everywhere.

She had gutted deer before, so I left her to that and finished the run for the guys.

Put one more across the hydro, but the guy said he was lighting a smoke, and it was across in a blink. Excuses, I've heard lots, and used a few myself.
 
You may have noted by now in these stories that the camp was a meat hunter camp. Does or bucks, didn't matter as long as we had the tags. Ontario allows party hunting, so, you could shoot as many as you wanted, up to the number of tags left in the camp.
We had a fawn shooter in camp. Personally, I don't like shooting fawns. I like more meat for the use of a tag myself, even if fawn meat is tender.
 
I was one of a party of 3 or 4 that hunted moose in North-Central BC in the 1960's/70's.
On our first threesome hunt together, I was the only one who had shot moose before.
Since I had already shot several, I had a plan worked out for dressing such a large animal.
One other in our party had shot a deer previously, but otherwise was a neophyte.

We crossed Babine Lake in the late afternoon [early October]. and set up camp in an
area that had once been a logging camp. Had a bite to eat, and made plans for the AM.

There were several old roads leading away from camp, so we each chose one to walk on.
Up before daylight, had a coffee, loaded up and headed out on the roads we had decided to take.

I walk out of camp about ½ Km. Then I'm taking my time, walk 4 or 5 steps, stand still and
look for 3-5 minutes, repeat. Alders have grown up on the road, some are 2 M tall.

I'm stopped, I hear a bit of rustling off to my left, so I step behind an alder bush and wait.
Out onto the road, 20M away steps a 2½ YO Bull moose. He stops, looks up the road away from
me. I slip off the safety, and drill him right behind his ear [308 Norma Mag] DRT, of course.

Slip out of my pack, lay out a few tools, and proceed to dress him. It was such a clean job
that I got almost no blood on my clothes. Propped him open, and headed back to camp.

Nearly had my breakfast cooked and I hear "boom, boom, boom" from Tom's direction. Then
"boom, boom" again. ½ minute later another "boom" I thought, that will be the finisher. good!

Meanwhile Ker comes into camp. He questions the shooting. I explained the early single shot he heard,
and suggested that Tom probably had a moose down also. We ate breakfast, and decided to go and
find Tom, to give him a hand. We had not got out of camp 250M, and we meet Tom coming down
the road my moose was on. He had passed my bull on his way back.

He was blood from his eyebrows to his shoelaces, lol. His first question to me was: "Do you always
split the brisket to clean these big beasts?" "If I had known, it would have been a lot easier"

He had shot a decent bull, and had basically crawled inside to pull out the windpipe, lungs, heart etc.
In all fairness, due to 3 shots through the lungs, there was plenty of blood in the cavity, Any who
have shot them know that moving a dead moose around is a bit of a chore. That was Tom's introduction
to moose hunting.

We chided him a bit about how bloody he was. Wish we had a camera along, a picture would have been
a keeper, for sure. Hunted that area several years, and never failed to score. We had many great hunts
together.

Our friendship lasted. Two of my former partners are gone now. RIP. Dave.
 
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"blood from eye brow to shoelaces" ...I can relate to that.
I was hunting moose with a new hunting partner, he was showing me his regular hunting area and we introduced me to the local farmers for permission and then he had to go to a work engagement so from 10 am onwards I was hunting by myself.
At "5 minutes till dark" I spotted a cow, calf and a 3 yr old bull at the edge of a muskeg and plowed the bull. He went down in the soft muskeg but was within reaching with the rope & chains I had in the pickup so was an easy chore to get him up on solid ground...by now its pitch black. I reach behind the seat for my hunting belt with knife & hatchet that is always there...or was supposed to be there, my old man had "borrowed it" along with my flashlight, a couple days before to gut a deer and hadn't put it back....now I have a 2 inch pocket/pen knife & truck lights to gut a 1500 lb moose by myself.

It was about 6 pm when I made the first stab in that tough hide with my toy knife and 10 pm before I got those guts out. With no way to split the brisket or H-bone, I spent a lot of time almost up to my waist inside that animal reaching what I had to too slice it loose...hence the "blood from eyeballs to shoelaces".

Another aspect worth mentioning is that the old cow came back looking for her boy-toy and huffed & snorted within 30 ft of me working on the bull for the first hour. Most of the time she was in the darkness but when down range of the truck light she was very visible. I had my rifle loaded & safety off sitting on the animal all the time she hung around, once she got within a few feet, she didn't charge so to speak but was close enough that i was sure considering putting a round in the ground to try to spook her away but she moved away on her own when I hollered at her....but it was tense for the duration of her "stay" in the dark.
 
I can relate to fingers284 issue with a cow who was less than pleased with the proceedings. My wife of the time and I were headed south from
visiting friends in Smithers BC [in the fall of 1968], and just south of Topley about 8 Kms, a cow and calf moose crossed the highway in front of us.

At the time, it was legal to shoot off the shoulder of Hwy 16, and antlerless moose were open. Since we were in a car, not a pickup, I
decided to take the calf. The two moose were basically standing at the edge of the poplar trees, about 40 meters away.

I hauled out my rifle, loaded it, and shot the calf. The cow ran off about 50/60 meters, and I did not give it much thought, but took my
rifle with me down to dress that calf. That cow was not happy!! She came in and did a few rushes, but turned away when I hollered and
threw sticks at her.

It took me a bit longer to dress that calf than it should have, since I had to keep one eye on that old cow......and almost one hand on my rifle.
She seemed to be quite capable of delivering some mayhem.

But, I finally got it done, cut that calf in two, and hauled it up and into the trunk of my car [It was a large 50's sedan] When we drove away,
that cow was still there, about 50M from the gutpile. I was glad to be driving away. Dave.
 
Another story from the Babine lake area. Fall of 1972, Myself, Tom and the other member of our party, Claude. We arrived across Babine lake in the PM.
Set up camp and made plans for the next mornings hunt. The weather had been exceptionally dry that fall, and leaves on the ground made walking
quietly almost impossible.

We hunted hard. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday morning, and in that time, we saw only 2 moose between the 3 of us. No Bulls, and cows were not
yet open. We were starting to feel a bit discouraged. We wished for rain, or better yet, a bit of snow, but the weather was not co-operating.

On Wednesday afternoon, we chose our trails once more and headed out. It was distressing how much noise the leaves made when I was walking.
Additionally, there seemed to be an abundance of the woods tattle-tale [squirrels] always letting the forest dwellers know we were around.

But, in this case, the shoe changed feet. :) I sat down on a log just below the crest of a small rise in the old logging road, just to wait a bit and
let silence reign. About 15 minutes later, a squirrel started kicking up a heck of a fuss over the crest I mentioned. Now, I was sure he had neither
seen nor heard me, and the breeze was in my favor, so I went on high alert.

It probably took me 10 or more minutes to very carefully sneak up to the crest of that rise to get a look at the other side. Lo and behold, off to the
right of the old road, about 75 yards away were 3 moose: a big cow, and a very good bull, [He had a 50" spread] Needless to say, and a distance away
a calf. I wasted no time in plugging that bull with a 165 grain partition out of my 30-06.

My partners soon arrived to help with the hard part, dressing that big bull. I was thankful, since he was a heavy animal. So, as much as I cussed out
the noisy squirrels, in this case the noisy brat gave away the moose. If he had not ratted the moose out, I am reasonably certain I would not
have seen the moose, since they would have heard me coming. Dave.
 
one of my whitetail deer hunts I was on stands out. I was in my spot at first light. saw a few does in there that morning .I heard a couple of shots down the valley in the afternoon . was making my way back out to my vehicle at near dark .talked to another hunter in there also. he was very upset that his little 243 deer rifle didn't drop his nice buck. said he hit it good. the deer ran off. spent his day looking for it .in his frustrated talk was that he is going to use his 338 magnum. for deer hunting .to this day it still makes me laugh.
 
John Y Cannuck said:
There were very few deer about back then. It was considered normal to not see a track for the season. But, we hunted anyway, had a great time. My cousin drew peace symbols on the old stove in the bush with the tips of his bullets. He talked to the squirrels when it was his turn to dog.

The gangsta guy turned out to be a real nice... ok he was an idiot, what can I say?

Lunch was sandwiches on one of the watches up on a bald spot of granite, where we had a fire to warm by. After lunch my uncle took that spot, and we sat for the afternoon. As the afternoon wore on, there was a shot. It was my uncle, shot a deer while sitting by the fire. Scared the crap out of me, I was on the next runway, and quite close. No, I was not asleep, being a young fella, I was far too excited to be hunting for that to happen. He'd told me about shooting deer by the fire before but I would not believe him. Wasn't the last time he proved me wrong either.

Watched my uncle gut that deer, was the first time I'd seen it done. We all had huge belt knives. It was the thing back then, everyone had to have the giant of a knife on their belt. It would be years before I found out how much handier it is to gut a deer with a small blade. Oh yes, gangsta guy had a giant double edged blade you could shave with.

Tied the deer across the back of my uncles Plymouth, he didn't want blood in the trunk. Hung it behind the house where my grandfather had hung all his deer over many years, on the limb of a big pine. Celebrated that night, but it was the only deer that year.
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Damn... Canadianina just like the 70s. Cold and harsh. Builder of men.
 
Four of us had permission to deer hunt farmland along the Wood River, South Saskatchewan.

We split up into two hunting parties and within minutes we heard gun shots from the other guys and thought we were skunked.
Our hopes dropped but we continued hunting westward the other two guys directly to our east.
There were plenty of road hunters and subsequent gunfire drove two does followed by a nice healthy six point buck.
I pulled my partner into some cover along the bushy riverbank.
Soon that big buck was in view running full out opposite side (south side) of the Wood River.
I shot plenty moving jacks in the off season so I did not feel out of place with a safe backdrop shooting at this running WT buck.
Each shot was closer and my fourth shot pegged it in its neck.
Once we tagged and gutted him, loaded it into my Pathfinder and off we went again to fill his tag.
We stayed closer to the river banks trees and I found a nice spot leaning against a huge elm tree.
I sent Mike down past two bends in the river instructed him to then push towards me from a preordained start point.
Fifteen minutes later a doe past me at warp speed.
A WT buck not far behind either!
He stopped literally 30 feet from me looking over his shoulder towards my moving hunting partner.
Another press trigger on the 308 and our deer hunting was over. Plus I could get off the cold November ground.
A stellar hunt. We celebrated with our wives that evening Mike's homemade red wine after arriving home.
 
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Eagleye said:
Another story from the Babine lake area. Fall of 1972, Myself, Tom and the other member of our party, Claude. We arrived across Babine lake in the PM.
Set up camp and made plans for the next mornings hunt. The weather had been exceptionally dry that fall, and leaves on the ground made walking
quietly almost impossible.

We hunted hard. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday morning, and in that time, we saw only 2 moose between the 3 of us. No Bulls, and cows were not
yet open. We were starting to feel a bit discouraged. We wished for rain, or better yet, a bit of snow, but the weather was not co-operating.

On Wednesday afternoon, we chose our trails once more and headed out. It was distressing how much noise the leaves made when I was walking.
Additionally, there seemed to be an abundance of the woods tattle-tale [squirrels] always letting the forest dwellers know we were around.

But, in this case, the shoe changed feet. :) I sat down on a log just below the crest of a small rise in the old logging road, just to wait a bit and
let silence reign. About 15 minutes later, a squirrel started kicking up a heck of a fuss over the crest I mentioned. Now, I was sure he had neither
seen nor heard me, and the breeze was in my favor, so I went on high alert.

It probably took me 10 or more minutes to very carefully sneak up to the crest of that rise to get a look at the other side. Lo and behold, off to the
right of the old road, about 75 yards away were 3 moose: a big cow, and a very good bull, [He had a 50" spread] Needless to say, and a distance away
a calf. I wasted no time in plugging that bull with a 165 grain partition out of my 30-06.

My partners soon arrived to help with the hard part, dressing that big bull. I was thankful, since he was a heavy animal. So, as much as I cussed out
the noisy squirrels, in this case the noisy brat gave away the moose. If he had not ratted the moose out, I am reasonably certain I would not
have seen the moose, since they would have heard me coming. Dave.
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Great story Eagleye ,my father in law hunted Babine back in the 70's told me they used to hire the FN to ferry them across to the other side then pick them up a week later if conditions were right .Which he said was not always the case lol :)
 
My first hunt goes back always.38 years back when I was 18.. lol
My girlfriends father invited me to a two week deer hunt somewhere in Northern Ontario.
We drove to small lake (Devils Lake) and had to take a boat to the camp.
All the guys there( about 10 others) were all in there 30s 40s and from all over Ont.

Anyway my first morning, got woke up at 5 am , had breakfast, which consists of bacon and eggs all cooked in a black steel frying pan ,with about an inch of bacon fat.
It was delicious!

Anyway the owner (Stu Gillespie) took us all out and put us on our watches.
I remember sitting there with my Girlfriends Fathers Marlin 30 30, bored out of my mind.
When across the valley on the ridge, this little white tail thing comes hopping along.
I almost crapped my pants with excitement!
I jumped up took aim an sent a round off.. nothing.

So by now he’s directly across from me and moving fast.
I start running along the other ridge firing away until I emptied the gun.
So I kept running and loading a round at a time until I ran out of ammo.

I fired about 12 rounds at that deer and never drew a hair.
When we got back to camp for lunch, the guys had a good laugh at my expense, I was know as the guy with the 30 30 semi.. lol

On that same hunt, the old fellow who owned the camp( Stu) would take a guy with him, to walk through the circle, to flush out the deer.
So it’s my turn one day and he said make as much noise as you want ,so we can push the deer towards the others.
So we’re walking along ,side by side and I spot this bird about 50 yards off. I have no clue what it was, other than it was big.
So I shoulder the 30 30 ,super fast and boom, I blew the head clean off the this grouse.
Man I was all exited until I look at Stu and he looks pissed.lol

I found out that shooting a rifle ,right next to someone’s head is not a good idea as he took the full blast right in his left ear… lol
He must of been oK though,as I was his go to guy for walk thrus..
or maybe it was because I was the youngest.. lol
 
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