KyCarl
Well-Known Member
I was walking home from a friends house and found a pistol by the road my Dad called the law and they took it...
Thank you for sharing this story with us. My DOB ends in 1946, and....I thank God every single day for giving me another day on this earth. We black bear hunt as our annual ritual. Due to being who I thought superman in my 30s, 40s and 50s, my physical condition is not too conducive to walking, but...black bear hunting over bait still works for me. Plus it gives me an opportunity to spend time with my son making great memories that will live both his lifetime and mine. I again thank God every day for giving me this opportunity. I was fortunate this past season to find an outfitter who was compassionate and respectful of me and my present condition. I can walk okay, but going through dried creek bottoms and over protruding ruts in the path leading to the blind can be challenging. However....coming out of that blind in the dark is another challenge yet! After my first attempt of coming out in very dim light conditions, in the dark, the outfitter realized that I was having quite some difficulty managing my way out. On the next night of coming out of the blind he told me to stay at the blind and he would come in to get me. The next night he came in, I was waiting at the ground blind as he had asked. He came over grabbed my gun, then grabbed my hand and helped me through the myriad of uneven ground and protruding roots between the blind and the path leading out of the blind. On the following night he came in again grabbed my gun, then helped me to the path to the blind, then he told me to stop which I did. He then reached under my arm, grabbed my hand and then pinned my forearm between his and helped me out. This happened every night until the end of the week of hunting. This experience was "extremely" humbling to me to say the least. I think that oftentimes we forget that sooner or later it is inevitable that "we" all are going to reach this humbling state. So thank you Lord for letting me get this old and for letting still do the things that I like to do and thank you for allowing me the opportunity to still make lasting memories with those who are close to me and who I love.I sold a shotgun at work the other day to an older fellow who needed a new one because "I left my old one up against a tree somewhere and never saw it again". Alarming, funny, and unfortunate all at once.
That dude exemplified some life goals for me tho haha…old Indigenous grampa hunter who was just excited as could be that he was gonna go duck hunting with his kids and grandkids! his ID showed he was born 1943, I hope that when I'm his age, if the Lord sees fit to let me get that old, I'm out duck hunting with my kids and their kids too. It was awesome, just wanted the cheapest break action single shot we had but those kind of gun sales honestly feel like more of a win for me than the big money ones (especially cuz I don't work on commission )
I'm so sorry for loss, and the terrible experience.My father did roughly the same thing. Win. 94. I was the one to clean up the mess. He and I didn't have a great relationship but it was still difficult for me as a junior in high school.
Man that's a different take on the world lolA lot of my friends that hunt salt marsh do so with the cheapest Mossberg pumps they can find. They leave them in the boat all season. Clean them with a water hose and then spray a little oil on them when they need it. When they quit functioning they are chunked overboard with old toilets or other reef debris and left to grow barnacles for Sheephead fishing. If you find one of those leave it be, I assure you it's done.
As a kid I found a knife on the side of the road in similar fashion. We pulled over to take a leak (as apparently the previous knife owner had) and I saw a piece of plastic near my foot. I kicked it gently out of the way and my grandpa said "well aren't you gonna pick it up?" After I finished I grabbed the plastic and it turned out to be a kydex knife sheath with a lovely little buck knife in it. I still have that around somewhere. Might have to dig it out for this years season, just for nostalgia.
That'll show up in a hay bale next year lolHa! Last year I got my dad a buck 110 (the one with the ebony handle and real leather sheath) for his birthday as his old one that he had carried for both hunting and farm tasks since the 80s was lost! The culprit: a hole that wore through in the pocket of his old coveralls. Knife slipped through somewhere in a field.
Oh he lost it 5+ years ago now, but just last year started griping about missing that knife and not liking the other "beater" knives he made do with as much as his old favourite from years ago. Being an eminently practical man who wouldn't go and buy a new knife when he did have knives he could make do with already, and also an increasingly frugal man past his retirement now, this was the perfect opportunity to get him something he'd actually use and like and wouldn't have bought himself.That'll show up in a hay bale next year lol
A Buck 110 was the first skinning knife I ever had. It was given to me by my parents. Great knife. I lost it many, many years ago. Would love to have it back. I carry two yellow handled Case pocket worn medium stockman knives every day now. They are really good as well and big enough to skin with. Plus the yellow is easy to see.Ha! Last year I got my dad a buck 110 (the one with the ebony handle and real leather sheath) for his birthday as his old one that he had carried for both hunting and farm tasks since the 80s was lost! The culprit: a hole that wore through in the pocket of his old coveralls. Knife slipped through somewhere in a field.