Having been toted to elk and deer camps since age 4, in 1969 - At the ripe ol' age of ten, Pa decided it was time for me to start earning my keep. So he and I wandered up one of the local mountains in search of Mulies.
Saw a few, but Pa was fussy, insisting they had to be a four point or better to come home with us.
At one point I saw what I thought was a decent buck, and whispered to Pa - hey, is that one good enough?
His answer was an incredibly fast mounting of his 270, and a swift shot to the lungs of that big buck.
Then he looked at me and said, the lesson here is not only do you have to be good son, it pays to be rather fast!
I did not connect that year...
Fast forward to 1970 and back up the same hill with pa.
Saw another four point buck at around 100 yards.
No word to Pa, and Ma's 250-3000 climbed to my shoulder smoothly and swiftly.
Pa jumped some at the shot, as did the buck.
Pa recovered quickly, not so much for the deer.
Pa grinned at me and said I see you learned well my son, then gave me a huge hug before we dressed my first of many...
I have hunted, and connected on big game every single year since then.
I suspect I will continue to do so for as long as I am on this journey called life.
As for the rifle, it remains in the family (Pa).
I will eventually inherit it, but hope that day is a long ways off!
Cheers,
Nog