For Dads & Sons
10-21-2008, 12:40 PM
#1
Thread Starter
Join Date: Apr 2008
Location:
Posts: 214
For Dads & Sons
T.R.Michels posted this on another forum:
(quote)
The Rites of Passage; Passing on the Tradition
I turned fifty a few years ago, that dreadful age when you realize that life is catching up with you. You begin to wonder if you can still hunt. How many more days will you be able to get up at 3 AM? How many more mornings will you spend in anticipation, waiting for the sound of a tom turkey echoing down the canyon, or the bugle of a bull elk on the next mountain. How many more evenings will you wait for a bear or a whitetail buck to appear out of the woods? How many more mornings will you spend listening to the sounds of the forest awakening around you, the small stirrings as the woods come to life, the tapping of a Downy Woodpecker looking for its first meal of the day, the questioning call of a Chickadee, the scolding of a Blue Jay or Steller's Jay, the call of a Cardinal, and the sound of a squirrel rustling leaves or throwing pine cones down from the top a tree?
When you hit fifty you begin to wonder how long the hearing will hold out. How long will the eyes that have served you so well be able to pick out the flick of a deer's ear in the dim light of a fall morning? How long will you be able to see an elk at the forest edge a mile away, or a pronghorn, scarcely visible on the prairie? Then one day something wonderful happens. You have a new set of eyes and ears, a new appreciation of everything around you. You have a new hunting partner. This partner doesn't have the experience you have, or the memories you have, but they stir the old memories in you. A hunting partner like so many hunters have had before you; not a friend or a dog, but something much more wonderful, a son or a daughter.
When my son Dallas turned five he went on his first goose hunt. The geese didn't fly that day, but he had fun playing in the "tunnel" between the corn rows, just like I did when I was his age. To me a cornfield is a place to hunt pheasants, or hunt geese after it has been picked, to him it was a fort where uncertain heroes and villains took up residence. On that goose hunt we set out a hundred decoys in family groups and faced them into the wind. He asked about the worn Remington 1148 I was using, and wondered when he could have his own goose call. I gave him one of my old calls. The sky was clear, the wind didn't blow and we didn't even see a goose. He had fun in his fort, but I was hoping to shoot a goose so he could experience the thrill of the hunt, so he would understand one of the reasons we were there.
His next hunt was for ducks. Before the hunt he helped me check the decoys for broken cords and lost weights, and we patched a few holes in the decoys. He made me promise to wake him up early for hunting the next morning. He helped pull the canoe through the jungle of cattails on the way to the slough. He dug excitedly into the decoy bag as I threw the blocks into the water, and he laughed when the young lab jumped overboard and got tangled in the decoys.
He was proud of his new camouflage outfit, an old Hodgeman raincoat with sleeves rolled up and pockets that reached to his knees. He felt pretty important when I told him he was in charge of the dog, so it wouldn't jump back in the water and mess up the decoys. Again nothing flew and nothing was shot. He got a little more impatient this time, asking the age old question, "Is it time to go home yet?" and "When are you going to shoot something?" That was the extent of his hunting the first year.
The next year I took him with me on the first day of the goose season. I had sixteen hunters going out with three guides. He played with the Labradors, set out the decoys (reminding me to face them into the wind) and he made some new friends. By this time he had learned to use his goose call and he helped bring in the first flock of geese. As the geese swung low there was a pounding of guns and he watched in amazement as the geese fell. "Dad, they dropped right out of the sky!" he said. Then I watched as he tried to drag a ten pound goose into the alfalfa so he could get his picture taken with the hunters. He had finally seen something shot, and we had some meat to take home. Now he understood part of what we were doing, and why we hunted. I felt his excitement and it made me happy, it even made me feel young again.
Sometime later I began to remember my own hunting experiences. The first duck I remember being shot landed in the canoe I still use. When my dad fired, the hen mallard crumpled and plummeted from the sky, almost taking my head off as it landed six inches behind me. Even at five you're not likely to forget such and experience. I remember the excitement of opening the box of Herter's decoys Dad got for Christmas. I helped tie the cords to the decoys and the strap weights to the cords. I remember sitting on Dad's shoulders as he sloshed through the cattails and "loonstuff" with a gunnysack full of decoys in one hand and the Remington 1148 automatic in the other.
The next year my son went scouting for the archery deer season. There were still too many leaves on the trees, and the wind was blowing too hard, but I had promised, so we went anyhow. We didn't see any deer, and because we were scouting nothing was shot. He did learn how to walk quietly through the woods and whisper when he wanted to say something. He learned to recognize the tracks of deer, fox, rabbit and raccoon. I pointed out deer droppings, and he saw his first rub and scrape. I showed him where the deer walked inside the first row of corn or skirted the edge of the meadow, just inside the trees. I showed him a trail crossing and where the deer stand was, and I explained why the stand was in that particular location.
Later that year he sat on a stand with me as a big eight point buck followed some does into the cornfield. He watched in amazement as I blew a fawn distress call and a doe left her fawns and came to our stand to investigate. He was there when I brought the first deer home that year. He held the legs while I skinned the animal, explaining how to hold the knife and pull the skin away from the carcass as I went. I showed him where the different glands where and told him how they were used by the deer. Then he watched as we pan-fried the back straps in butter. Later that night he enjoyed his first taste of venison.
As I look back I realized that I was teaching him and he was learning, but not just to hunt. He was learning to understand the ways of nature, learning how animals survive, where they eat, sleep and drink. He learned that we don't hunt during the summer so that the young animals have a chance to mature. He learned why we don't over-harvest, because we want to leave animals for the future. He was learning to respect nature and the animals, and the laws that govern them, both natural and manmade.
He also learned to enjoy hunting for the same reason I did. He made new friends and enjoyed their company and their experiences. He learned to enjoy the sport of hunting because it brought him closer to nature and the world that God had created. He learned to enjoy sharing his hunting experiences with his new friends. He learned that hunting is not about shooting something, it is about love of nature, sharing and tradition; a tradition that has been passed on from parent to child from the beginning of time.
I would like to thank my father and my son for sharing nature; and their hunting experiences with me. I hope it's something we hunters never lose.
Thanks Dad; thanks Son.
God bless,
T.R.
(end quote)
(quote)
The Rites of Passage; Passing on the Tradition
I turned fifty a few years ago, that dreadful age when you realize that life is catching up with you. You begin to wonder if you can still hunt. How many more days will you be able to get up at 3 AM? How many more mornings will you spend in anticipation, waiting for the sound of a tom turkey echoing down the canyon, or the bugle of a bull elk on the next mountain. How many more evenings will you wait for a bear or a whitetail buck to appear out of the woods? How many more mornings will you spend listening to the sounds of the forest awakening around you, the small stirrings as the woods come to life, the tapping of a Downy Woodpecker looking for its first meal of the day, the questioning call of a Chickadee, the scolding of a Blue Jay or Steller's Jay, the call of a Cardinal, and the sound of a squirrel rustling leaves or throwing pine cones down from the top a tree?
When you hit fifty you begin to wonder how long the hearing will hold out. How long will the eyes that have served you so well be able to pick out the flick of a deer's ear in the dim light of a fall morning? How long will you be able to see an elk at the forest edge a mile away, or a pronghorn, scarcely visible on the prairie? Then one day something wonderful happens. You have a new set of eyes and ears, a new appreciation of everything around you. You have a new hunting partner. This partner doesn't have the experience you have, or the memories you have, but they stir the old memories in you. A hunting partner like so many hunters have had before you; not a friend or a dog, but something much more wonderful, a son or a daughter.
When my son Dallas turned five he went on his first goose hunt. The geese didn't fly that day, but he had fun playing in the "tunnel" between the corn rows, just like I did when I was his age. To me a cornfield is a place to hunt pheasants, or hunt geese after it has been picked, to him it was a fort where uncertain heroes and villains took up residence. On that goose hunt we set out a hundred decoys in family groups and faced them into the wind. He asked about the worn Remington 1148 I was using, and wondered when he could have his own goose call. I gave him one of my old calls. The sky was clear, the wind didn't blow and we didn't even see a goose. He had fun in his fort, but I was hoping to shoot a goose so he could experience the thrill of the hunt, so he would understand one of the reasons we were there.
His next hunt was for ducks. Before the hunt he helped me check the decoys for broken cords and lost weights, and we patched a few holes in the decoys. He made me promise to wake him up early for hunting the next morning. He helped pull the canoe through the jungle of cattails on the way to the slough. He dug excitedly into the decoy bag as I threw the blocks into the water, and he laughed when the young lab jumped overboard and got tangled in the decoys.
He was proud of his new camouflage outfit, an old Hodgeman raincoat with sleeves rolled up and pockets that reached to his knees. He felt pretty important when I told him he was in charge of the dog, so it wouldn't jump back in the water and mess up the decoys. Again nothing flew and nothing was shot. He got a little more impatient this time, asking the age old question, "Is it time to go home yet?" and "When are you going to shoot something?" That was the extent of his hunting the first year.
The next year I took him with me on the first day of the goose season. I had sixteen hunters going out with three guides. He played with the Labradors, set out the decoys (reminding me to face them into the wind) and he made some new friends. By this time he had learned to use his goose call and he helped bring in the first flock of geese. As the geese swung low there was a pounding of guns and he watched in amazement as the geese fell. "Dad, they dropped right out of the sky!" he said. Then I watched as he tried to drag a ten pound goose into the alfalfa so he could get his picture taken with the hunters. He had finally seen something shot, and we had some meat to take home. Now he understood part of what we were doing, and why we hunted. I felt his excitement and it made me happy, it even made me feel young again.
Sometime later I began to remember my own hunting experiences. The first duck I remember being shot landed in the canoe I still use. When my dad fired, the hen mallard crumpled and plummeted from the sky, almost taking my head off as it landed six inches behind me. Even at five you're not likely to forget such and experience. I remember the excitement of opening the box of Herter's decoys Dad got for Christmas. I helped tie the cords to the decoys and the strap weights to the cords. I remember sitting on Dad's shoulders as he sloshed through the cattails and "loonstuff" with a gunnysack full of decoys in one hand and the Remington 1148 automatic in the other.
The next year my son went scouting for the archery deer season. There were still too many leaves on the trees, and the wind was blowing too hard, but I had promised, so we went anyhow. We didn't see any deer, and because we were scouting nothing was shot. He did learn how to walk quietly through the woods and whisper when he wanted to say something. He learned to recognize the tracks of deer, fox, rabbit and raccoon. I pointed out deer droppings, and he saw his first rub and scrape. I showed him where the deer walked inside the first row of corn or skirted the edge of the meadow, just inside the trees. I showed him a trail crossing and where the deer stand was, and I explained why the stand was in that particular location.
Later that year he sat on a stand with me as a big eight point buck followed some does into the cornfield. He watched in amazement as I blew a fawn distress call and a doe left her fawns and came to our stand to investigate. He was there when I brought the first deer home that year. He held the legs while I skinned the animal, explaining how to hold the knife and pull the skin away from the carcass as I went. I showed him where the different glands where and told him how they were used by the deer. Then he watched as we pan-fried the back straps in butter. Later that night he enjoyed his first taste of venison.
As I look back I realized that I was teaching him and he was learning, but not just to hunt. He was learning to understand the ways of nature, learning how animals survive, where they eat, sleep and drink. He learned that we don't hunt during the summer so that the young animals have a chance to mature. He learned why we don't over-harvest, because we want to leave animals for the future. He was learning to respect nature and the animals, and the laws that govern them, both natural and manmade.
He also learned to enjoy hunting for the same reason I did. He made new friends and enjoyed their company and their experiences. He learned to enjoy the sport of hunting because it brought him closer to nature and the world that God had created. He learned to enjoy sharing his hunting experiences with his new friends. He learned that hunting is not about shooting something, it is about love of nature, sharing and tradition; a tradition that has been passed on from parent to child from the beginning of time.
I would like to thank my father and my son for sharing nature; and their hunting experiences with me. I hope it's something we hunters never lose.
Thanks Dad; thanks Son.
God bless,
T.R.
(end quote)
10-21-2008, 12:58 PM
#2
Fork Horn
Join Date: Aug 2008
Location:
Posts: 130
RE: For Dads & Sons
amazing story. i learned everything i know about hunting from my grand-pa. he spent more mornings in the woods stuck with me than he did with my father. he said i was the son he was to busy for 25yr's. he told me the same story every time i went into the wood's but i listened as he was excited to tell it everytime. he often said things twice and stuff like that. but god, i love the old guy. he is now 85 probably not gonna live much longer. he is getting weaker and weaker. i had the treat of taking him out the other on the farm he lived on for 50yrs. and i got a re-count of that same hunting story again. he sheed tears when he said that he wasn't hunting this year. he is the most amazing man i've ever met next to my own father. shooting 88 coyotes from the kitchen window alone in 10 years. nailing more huge deer than anyone on here will ever dream of. shooting the first buck to ever be legally tagged in the two countys in missouri that first had a deer season back in the 40s. he can be a little strange at times but you know what?!? that's just fine cause he loves me and i love him. it's just one of those memorie's that will never be forgotten and will alway's be cherished. keep him in your prayer's for he is now battling cancer parkinsins and altheimers. sorry to bore you guy's. i'm just reminising on old time's. thankx
10-21-2008, 01:09 PM
#3
Nontypical Buck
Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Roanoke, Virginia
Posts: 2,335
RE: For Dads & Sons
great story but really id like to hear some posts coming from you and not this t.r. micheals guy or whatever....every single post of ures has a link to his website or a quote from him...leave it up to him to post his stories?
10-21-2008, 02:57 PM
#4
Thread Starter
Join Date: Apr 2008
Location:
Posts: 214
RE: For Dads & Sons
T.R. is blocked from posting on this site. He used to have his own forum here, and he moderated a Religion forum. He only wanted to primarily talk about Christianity, and they kept changing his title, without notifiying him - moderator, administrator, something like that. After he complained about not letting him know what was going on - they banned him. If I remember right his roum had over 500,000 reads/hits or something. He helped many people out.
T.R. has become a good friend and mentor.
I've posted on several threads ... I don't have much to post, but like to answer questions and offer my opinion.
T.R. has become a good friend and mentor.
I've posted on several threads ... I don't have much to post, but like to answer questions and offer my opinion.
10-21-2008, 03:09 PM
#5
Typical Buck
Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: Cambridge Ohio USA
Posts: 744
RE: For Dads & Sons
I'm betting he was banned for more than justcomplaining. 
He's been banned from many sites, for good reason. Strange how you know what happened, but wasn't a member here until after he was gone.
He's been banned from many sites, for good reason. Strange how you know what happened, but wasn't a member here until after he was gone.
10-21-2008, 06:28 PM
#8
Typical Buck
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: Dover, Ohio. Tuscarawas county.
Posts: 827
RE: For Dads & Sons
I think that it's a good story. The first deer I ever saw was when I was 6 months old. My dad is holding me and we got a picture next to his first deer. I guess ever since then, I've been a deer hunter.
10-21-2008, 06:51 PM
#9
Thread Starter
Join Date: Apr 2008
Location:
Posts: 214
RE: For Dads & Sons
I was a member here longtime ago, then my hard drive crashed, and I forgot my password, so I just got a new IDand password.
As far as I know T.R. Has only been banned (for reasons other than stated here), from Archery Talk because he told the truth about Activated Carbon hunting products. The site probably has ties with one of the activated carbon clothing manufacturers, and they didn't like the facts coming out so they banned him - not a good reason in my mind.
And, as a result of his information on one manufacturer, theirPatents have been rejected, because the ideawas already patented.
Name one other site (other than Archery Talk)he is banned from - he is on about 20 talk forums.He gets a lot of good responses on all those forums.
As far as I know T.R. Has only been banned (for reasons other than stated here), from Archery Talk because he told the truth about Activated Carbon hunting products. The site probably has ties with one of the activated carbon clothing manufacturers, and they didn't like the facts coming out so they banned him - not a good reason in my mind.
And, as a result of his information on one manufacturer, theirPatents have been rejected, because the ideawas already patented.
Name one other site (other than Archery Talk)he is banned from - he is on about 20 talk forums.He gets a lot of good responses on all those forums.
10-21-2008, 07:01 PM
#10
Typical Buck
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: Dover, Ohio. Tuscarawas county.
Posts: 827
RE: For Dads & Sons
I don't know anything about this T.R. guy, but the stories I've read of hisso far, have all been good. I really liked this Father and sons one, cause it made me look at what my dad has taught me over my 8 years of deer hunting. He didn't shoot his first deer till 1988 (the year I was born) and he had been hunting since like 1980. I got my first deer the first year I went hunting. He taught me good, and turned me into a good hunter. So far, I've still got the biggest buck. He's still trying to end my 4 year reign as the champ lol. Like I told my dad, you held it for 8 years, now it's my turn. I'm on my 4th year. If it's not broke by him by November 6th this year, it will be 4 years to the day.