My father was a ww2 veteran. He worked for Dow Chemical for over 30 years. But he smoked for 60 years. So his hunting stopped when he was about 72-3. COPD raises Heck on breathing.

As much as I remember he took me hunting for rabbits and squirrels when I was 14. I used his Remington 16 to deer hunt. Promptly blowing the Poly choke off. That got me a Winchester 94 .32. Early Christmas gift.

He loved deer hunting. HIs old 30.06 740 Woods Master took a lot of them. He was good at catching them on the run. He shot a doe one time at about 300 yards, running. His buddy didn't believe it till they went to see.

The last 5 years he couldn't move around very good. Sat at the window in the kitchen smoking till the last 2 years of his life. Just days before he passed, he told me " don't let yourself get like me now"!

I often think about things he had said and would like to discuss them again, but you can't. Just like my mother is gone also. And my wife 17 years ago.

Cherish those times that their here.

Merry Christmas folks.

Dad would be 102 if he was alive today. Hard to believe it has been 4 years since his passing.

Pap wasn't an outdoorsman like his son. He knew from my young age that I was on a different path so to speak. He would run me around when I was too young to do so myself. Fishing, hunting and trapping. He humored me for those younger days of my life but was always there to get me where I needed to or wanted to go.

I am glad he lived to see my business's grow and to see I had found my calling in l.ife. He was a good man and father. I sure do think of him alot.

My father passed away May 28th of 1970. And June of 1999 I wrote a short story for the Eau Claire papers Father's Day contest of your memory of your father. It was called
"The Promise"
Before the era of fish locators and the Lindner Brothers I knew a Man Who Loved walleye fishing. That man was my father. Brown trout on Elk Creek and steelhead on the Brule River had their place in each season but walleyes were his specialty. He sought them out mainly on the Chetek Chain of Lakes better known now for panfish. Nearly every weekend was spent at the lake during fishing season.

Dad taught us the art of live bait fishing with minnows. The key was patiently waiting and not setting the hook too soon. We would s e i n e our own minnows from Mud Creek keeping only the hardiest species. Red tail chubs were the most prized. Besides fishing the Lakes with our boats we also Shore fished a narrow channel that divided Two Lakes. Traditionally at midnight on opening night we would fish next to or under a bridge that spanned the channel. My father had his favorite spot next to an old concrete pier. Many fine limits of walleyes were caught there. In his early fifties my father was diagnosed with cancer. While in the hospital he promised me we would go fishing again when he got out.

He died in May of 1970 never leaving the hospital. Since then the Quest for walleyes has taken me to numerous lakes and rivers. The bridge has been replaced and the old concrete pier is gone but the memory is still strong . somewhere in my future there is an old bridge with a man waiting to fulfill a promise. I will know him by the hip boots he wears and the old Shakespeare rod and real he holds. His minnow bucket will be full of red tail chubs. He will call me son and I will join him by the pier patiently waiting.

My father passed away May 28th of 1970. And June of 1999 I wrote a short story for the Eau Claire papers Father's Day contest of your memory of your father. It was called
"The Promise"
Before the era of fish locators and the Lindner Brothers I knew a Man Who Loved walleye fishing. That man was my father. Brown trout on Elk Creek and steelhead on the Brule River had their place in each season but walleyes were his specialty. He sought them out mainly on the Chetek Chain of Lakes better known now for panfish. Nearly every weekend was spent at the lake during fishing season.

Dad taught us the art of live bait fishing with minnows. The key was patiently waiting and not setting the hook too soon. We would s e i n e our own minnows from Mud Creek keeping only the hardiest species. Red tail chubs were the most prized. Besides fishing the Lakes with our boats we also Shore fished a narrow channel that divided Two Lakes. Traditionally at midnight on opening night we would fish next to or under a bridge that spanned the channel. My father had his favorite spot next to an old concrete pier. Many fine limits of walleyes were caught there. In his early fifties my father was diagnosed with cancer. While in the hospital he promised me we would go fishing again when he got out.

He died in May of 1970 never leaving the hospital. Since then the Quest for walleyes has taken me to numerous lakes and rivers. The bridge has been replaced and the old concrete pier is gone but the memory is still strong . somewhere in my future there is an old bridge with a man waiting to fulfill a promise. I will know him by the hip boots he wears and the old Shakespeare rod and real he holds. His minnow bucket will be full of red tail chubs. He will call me son and I will join him by the pier patiently waiting.

Not many he died when I was 2/12 years old.

Glad to see this thread take off...yesterday not so much...lmao

I took care of that.

My relationship with my dad (mom too) has been a bit tenuous the last few years... We aren't close like we were but we still have a relationship.

Dad wasn't much of an outdoorsman, at least not where hunting and trapping were concerned. Fishing was more his game. And we went a decent amount when I was a kid. I had some health issues after I got out of the army and for a while afterwards... Docs said I shouldn't be out alone, especially near water. So mom or dad would go with me. Mom would paint or sketch while I fished... Dad would fish with me.

Just sitting on the bank and visiting whether we caught much or not. I remember once as it started getting dark the owls started gathering around us... Attracted by the light I guess. We had a blast taking turns hooting at the owls and listening to them reply. I don't even remember if we caught any fish that evening.

Mike

My dad is responsible for me being a trapper. He got me started and I went headfirst into it. It was all I could think about and all I wanted to do when I was a kid. The catch is that he was a OTR trucker and was gone for long stretches of time, which left my mom to deal with the monster he created. I'm sure he got a huge kick out of that.

My Dad born 1909 was a workaholic, like that whole generation. He worked Thursday nites and Saturday morning to have Wednesdays off. He loved boats and was always rebuilding one, I guess that rubbed off on me too. He was active and hunted and Saltwater fished and I was always with him building the boats or fishing. In NJ at that time we had both real pheasants and stocked birds, they were everywhere, always heard rabbit dogs, beagles, barking on the next hill, and we had two beagles too. I was over seas for ten years and came back when he was diagnosed with cancer, passed 1970. If he was here now he would be lost, everything has changed. Long time ago.......jk

It's Christmas Mike, maybe give them a call?

My dad was a Marine during WW2, he flew Corsairs late in the Pacific War. After he was discharged, he went to Penn State University on the GI Bill and became a County Agent working for the Dept of Agriculture out of PS. He joined the MC reserves and was in for 12 more years. He loved the shooting sports, especially 30 caliber and during the 60s and 70s he was gone most weekends to rifle matches. Many years he ended up at Camp Perry Ohio for the National Matches. He taught me what I know about handling firearms, marksmanship and hunting. I always enjoyed hunting, fishing and reloading with my dad, but a few memories stand out as to the kind of person he was. He won many trophies during his time in the match shooting. He worked with 4-H clubs, one a small rifle club, they shot .22s. He pulled his name plates off all his trophied and handed them out to the kids in the club when they competed against other clubs. I saved the last trophy he had left, and it is in my office for times when I am thinking about him. My dad died 16 years ago,
and I do miss him.

My dad standing over the firing line.

It's nothing like that Angela. We'll all be getting together tomorrow. Just been a few bumps in the road over the last couple of years. Still love 'em, still see 'em but I just don't feel I can depend on them like I used to.

Mike

I have a lot of great memories of my dad, we hunted , trapped, fished, and worked together for a long time, but I can still see him kneeling down on the ice and looking into the hole checking his beaver traps and saying, ha ha., I think of him often, wish he was around to see the fur shed and have a cup of coffee, no scallops between those nails put em a little closer.

I lost my dad in October. You always think you'll have more time to be with someone... Don't wait because you just never know. I was little in this picture, but I still remember Dad catching that fish, the hemlocks and the reflection on a lake in the Catskills..

So many memories. My Dad was an avid deer hunter rifle only. I loved to hunt and fish for anything. I really got into spring gobbler hunting while I was in college. Talked it up to dad all the time how great it was and he should join me sometime. He kept telling me no didn’t think he would like it. Finally got him out on my farm on opening morning of a spring gobbler season and called in a big Tom for him right after fly down. He was hooked turned into a turkey hunting addict. Dad retired last year and we were planning all the hunting and farming adventures we were going to have, but sadly he was diagnosed with terminal cancer this summer. Barring a miracle he will not be with us next year. I have been having a really hard time trying to come to terms with this. He is an exceptional man he married a woman with 2 kids and has always treated myself and my sister as his own. He has been my dad my father and my best friend. My biological father was a waste of space and never wanted a thing to do with his children. I have been so blessed to have him in my life. Sorry this is rambling but great thread. Eric

I’m the youngest of 3 boys dad would’ve been a 100 this year. At moms funeral middle boy said I was put on earth to take care of them in old age, that’s what I did and had no regrets

I lost my Dad when I was 12 years old, only got to hunt with him one deer season. That year my brother got his first buck my dad couldn't have been any prouder, as he hadnt ever got a deer himself. Wish my dad was still around and my uncle too, we had a lot of good times, and he made sure I was able to go hunting and taught me all I know about turkey hunting too.

I remember the morning my Dad taught me and a friend how to trap muskrats. We went to the creek on the land he grew up on and he probably went in the creek with his Irish Setters on, only boot I every remember him wearing until it got really cold. He showed us rat slides and how to set, also feed beds but he called them something different, and I remember a split in the creek with one channel about 6” wide and he said there’s a good spot for a mink. That’s the only instructions I ever remember getting. I think I was around 14 because he took us out there before he had to go to work for a few years until I got my license.

My Dad wasn’t a hunter or a trapper but he had a couple pistols. When the weather got cool we would head out Saturday mornings and do some tin can plinking out on Grandad’s farm. I was probably 7 or 8. This time of year was also memorable because family coming home for the holidays meant wood cutting on the farm. Imagine if you can being a young boy hanging out with your dad and his 5 brothers that hadn’t seen a lot of one another for months. When you hear, “Don’t go repeating anything you’re gonna hear out here,” you just knew you were going to hear “the good stuff”. lol

Dad is still with us at 86. The farm is no longer in the family but I have a ton of memories.

Here is a picture of my Dad and one of his brothers on that farm.