November of 2000 he shot a doe down I got to him patted him on the back proceeded to yank the guts out of the hag drug her up and loaded her in my truck. He said thanks for babysitting me said no just helping I wouldn’t traded it for anything by next season he was gone… Jon

I skipped pheasant hunting over Thanksgiving break in college to run traps with my old man, who was on crutches from rolling a 4 wheeler. He stayed on the road and yelled at me in the crick or ditch I was doing it wrong half the time. Then we had our first father/son pursuit of a guy coming out of the ditch with our trap in hand til he finally told me this was dumb, so I backed off on the gas. Great 4 days. Especially when he died about 3 years later…

Daddy taught me archery and deer hunting. He has killed innumerable deer with his bow. The "Big One" has eluded him for years and years. I have several monsters on my wall. My goal fot that year was to get him a monster. I scouted, drove the roads around the section, put up cameras, etc.
I patterned the "Big one."
I put him in the stand where i thought Mr.Big would show himself. Sure enough he showed up and Daddy made the shot.
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Best Day Of My Life. Thanks, Pa !!!

Outstanding guys great memories

You never know how much you will miss your dad till he is gone. My dad passed away in 2012. To many memories to share.

THIS!
Mine made it into his 90s, so I was expecting it for a LONG time.
But still hurts and still have an empty spot inside.

When you lose your dad at 9 years old, you don’t have many memories. I had many father/grandpa figures in my youth. Different people taught me how to hunt ant trap. Most I learned on my own. I have learned a lot more from Trapperman friends. I am blessed.

Lost my Dad almost 35 years ago, not enough hunting/fishing memories to just pick one. I know my love for thee outdoors was instilled in me from the times we spent hunting and fishing in SC, TX, and WV.
Still miss him to this day.

I deer hunted many seasons with my Dad. I shot a lot of deer through the years but Dad always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. After so many years of him getting skunked I decided to sit right beside him during one season. We were watching a bean field when 2 does stepped out. He raises his rifle and says he cant find them in the scope. It was at that moment that I realize he never wanted to kill a deer he was hunting just to be out with me. He had no idea what it meant to me. He is now in assisted living and how I miss those hunts. Enjoy every minute with your Dad while he is still able to get around. I talk with him about the hunts we had but his mind is going and he cant remember them. I still have him over on occasional weekends and now hope we will continue that for a long time. Merry Christmas to Dad and thanks for the great memories.

I recall after dad had a lung removed and had gone through chemo, he was a bit depressed. He couldn't do much because of his shortness of breath. I told him he should come on down here and go with me on my beaver control line. He could ride with me, and since most of my sets were close to the truck, he wouldn't have to walk much. So, he and mom came on down. Around the third day of setting and running traps, he got the idea that he could do a video. He had brought his VHS camera with him.

I brought a bucket with us for him to sit on to catch his breath once we got the camera set up. I would then do the beaver work while he filmed and narrated what I was doing. This is how the Summertime Beaver Control video was produced. It really was a great time we had together.

We lost him a year later.

So. Awesome Paul.

Dad got a Mn. Bear tag this past season. He cannot walk very far at the age of 78. So we have had a bait that we have used for many seasons that when you are sitting in the stands you can watch the cars drive by. Still for him a tough walk. After baiting and sitting for 5 weeks we finally had one come in during legal shooting hours and he closed the deal. Kind of thinking this might be his last bear hunt. But you never know.

Too many memories to pick out any particular one. From the time I can remember (prolly about 6 years old), 'til I was 17, we big game hunted, bird hunted, and fished together 100+ times a year. Not really a father-son relationship. More like huntin'/fishin' buddies. The last time we hunted together, he was 85 years old and we chukar hunted one last time. Some of you undoubtedly know, chukar hunting is not easy country. He fell a few times on the mountainside, but I watched him keep the gun from banging the rocks. He wasn't about to scratch that Browning. He got a few shots, but no birds. He told me when we were sipping our toddies that night at home, "It was the best chukar hunt I've ever had". Made me proud. He's been gone a few years now, and I miss my buddy every single day. Really thankful for what he gave to me and for that last hunt...


Jack

My Dad's 83 with one good arm ( remnants of Polio in 1944) So I've gutted his deer since I was 8

We've hunted together for 49 years. Accommodating for him has always been Normal for us ....it's all I knew.

He said this deer season was his last. I got him up in my Old Man Stand with the Big Buddy heater and he said.You go this time to sit in the woods. "Double our chances" of filling his tag the lot weekend of season- I could tell he was tired. I shot a doe party hunting with him, he said "Yahoo-Were done"

He might try again at 84 but might not.

Good times since we started using a box stand or blind.

I lost my dad when he was 55 and I was 26 to brain cancer. It hit me like a ton of bricks. We done everything together. Trapshooting, card shoots, benchrest shooting, running a trapline predator calling at night. Chasing whitetail Deer and Turkey here in Ohio. He was a avid hound men who had beagles his whole life and would rather listen to the chase then harvest a rabbit. I’m very lucky to have been raised by a true outdoorsmen. I’m also thankfully that most of the men that my dad associated with were ww2 veterans who wouldn’t take you know what from nobody.

I'm still blessed to have my Dad with me. He was a good Dad when I was growing up. My folks got divorced when I was 5 but my dad drove the 40 mile round trip to visit me three times a week... two week days after working a full shift at the plant, and then Saturday morning.

My dad fished and deer hunted, but he would come along with me on all my other adventures like trapping, squirrel and pheasant hunting, coon hunting, and camping. I remember at least twice we went on father/daughter primitive camping trips... not far, just local but we'd just take what we could pack on our backs. I remember setting limb lines for bullhead in the creek to eat the next morning, and picking wild black raspberries which I made in pancakes the next morning.

A funny memory with my dad is when we went deer hunting down to a camp when I was about 16 or so. Woke up hours before dark in the bitter cold, got all bundled up and were in our tree stands long before daylight. He had me in a stand not very from him, maybe 100 yards. About a half hour after daylight I hear all this commotion coming from his direction. I can't see what's going on, just hear crashing around that eventually fades away and then about 15 minutes later more crashing getting louder again. Well, no one shoots anything and back at the camp (with his brothers and friends sitting around) I asked him what all that crashing around was over his way earlier? I'm thinking maybe a bear or something! Looking more sheepish than I'd ever seen him, he finally admitted that he saw a doe that morning and went to shoot it and Click. Click. Click. He'd forgot shells for his gun!!! The crashing around was him going back to the cabin for bullets, hahaha.

For those who still have a pop around, make the memories NOW. Not tomorrow, not next season. Mine were over in a blink of an eye. The widowmaker, as they call it.

My father is still living. He is 83 now. We talk twice a week. Amazing how much you can talk about. Here is the last time we had him on the Launch at Lake of the Woods

I'm gonna have to say it was that time I came home so hammered I mistook my sisters closet for the bathroom. Their closet happened to be directly over the downstairs hallway. It didn't take him long to trace the evidence from the floor to the ceiling. He was correct in his surmise that I was the most likely suspect. It stands in my memory as one of the very few times I ever witnessed him lose his sense of humor.

Other than that, probably standing on the riverbank at daybreak watching him swat ducks. He loved duck hunting and it rubbed off on me.

This was my point not one memory just something that makes us think of them. It’s funny how smart they became the older we got lol