As I flipped the ignition off on my old 1978 F-150, the 400 cubic inch Ford engine gave its regular "spit-sput-spattering" plea in contest of not wanting to quit running yet. The squeal of the power steering as the old girl's RPMs faded always seemed like its final scream.
Grandpa, as always, was waiting in the laddis archway that welcomed you into his yard.
"Hey Grumps..." I said as he extended his hand out in his ever so friendly tradition of shaking hands.
"Hot out today." He said with a sigh as he adjusted his hat to beg of it every drop of shade it could provide.
It was June, 2001. The Moab summers were (and to this day remain) hot. The arid climate of the Canyon land country couple with the hot sun and beat down with a fury that seems to spawn from finger tips of old Satin himself. Still, the sanctuary of the thick cottonwoods and elms, and the pleasant aura of this great little town that lies nestled in a beautiful valley make for a young man's slice of heaven.
I was 19 (had to count my fingers and toes and edit) years old. Little did I know how much that one simple hand shake on that hot summer day would form me as I transformed into a man.
This is the story of how I became a hunter.....
Todd
I was there that day to lend a hand in helping my Grandpa pack and move. Land in Moab is hard to come by and has a high price tag these days. The old man finally sold his vineyard out.
I knew then as I know now how much I'd miss that place. The days patrolling the vineyard and garden with my 35# fiber glass bow and a quiver full of Dad's bent and broken arrows for unwanted rodents and birds will remain with me and I'll reflect upon them in my rocking chair years....
As I followed Grumps down the tractor path to the old cinder block shed, he flung a phrase over his shoulder, "I think we better tackle this danged thing today."
I was dreading this building. I always called this building the "torture shed". This is where my five year older brother would throw me in and lock me. He thought it funny, my screams and all, as I dodged the inevitable black widows and numerous other spiders in the cool, damp, chocking air. To this day a spider web to my face is more then I can stand thanks to him.
Grandpa carried a plastic bag with him. As he opened the heavy sheet metal door to the building, we both stood there in awe at the task at hand.
"Sixty years of collecting and acquiring stuff will make this a long day I'm afraid." He said as he reached in the bag and pulled out a can of insecticide.
After he fogged the shed, he closed the door to let the poisonous gas do its good deed. He quit using this building as storage for anything he used on a regular basis because of the aforementioned black widows. It's a wonder my brother didn't kill me in his exploits, I kid you not...
As we moved the wine bottles, tractor parts, old shop tools, and a lifetime supply of an old concrete workers tools, it was time to conquer the rafters. Me being the agile younger fellow got elected to climb up there and start handing stuff down.
After a serious amount of sweat had poured from my body we were just about done. One more corner of the ceiling rafters to go, and what a sweet corner it was. Amid all the other junk and treasures I grabbed an old recurve by the lower limb and handed it down. That old bow was more then I could take as I knew nothing of its history or purpose in this old rifle hunter's possession.
I knew by the expression of his face that gem was long forgotten about. I had to climb down and learn about it....
Todd
Here`s to your grandpa...
to being twenty years old...
and becoming a hunter...
more
How long does it take to get out of the rafters.... :campfire: :coffee:
I agree Tim. Keep going Todd
:readit: :bigsmyl:
Tracy
:coffee:
As he grabbed the bow by the grip and blew the first layer of dust off, his other hand reached for a fist full of t-shirt to finish the task..
"Wow... That's cool! Where did you get it? I didn't know you bow hunted before. Did you ever kill anything with it?" I asked as he mopped the dust.
"Yeah, it is pretty neat." He reflected. "I can't remember where I got it exactly, but I did bow hunt for a few years back in the '70's. Naw... The only thing I really ever killed with it was a few dozen arrows." He continued, "Me and some friends of mine spent a season up on the mountain one time and we got rained in.. We only had a 2 wheel drive '56 Chevy and boy did the rains come. We were stuck up there for a couple of weeks."
"Yea?" I said.
"And boy were we getting hungry. You're uncle Glen luckily killed a doe about three days before we were rescued, but, I think it was two days before he took that doe a couple grouse flew right into camp. Us guy's were hungry enough at that point we weren't gonna' miss those grouse. Jim hit the first one as I aimed for the second. At his shot the grouse started flopping around and sent the other to flight. I kinda' flung an arrow as he began his take off and luckily somehow managed to take his head clean off.. I think that's the only thing I killed with it... Those grouse were skinned, cooked, and ate within 10 minutes of being dead, let me tell ya!" He said with a grin.
"Rescued?" I asked.
"Old man Holyoak showed up in his Willy's Jeep when I didn't show up for some welding fabrication I had him working on. Yep, he pulled us out of there. We weren't in any real fix, but we were over due."
"Pretty good story, Grumps."
"Yeah, it was fun. I don't use it anymore. Hell, hadn't even thought about it in years.... You can have it if you want it....." He said as he handed it over.
"YOU BET I'LL TAKE IT!" I reacted.......
Todd
....so tell us about the bow, Uncle Todd... :bigsmyl:
:thumbsup:
Great so far Todd!
Great story.
My Grandfather had one of those collector sheds.LOL and a basement to go along with it.
Hope there's more to the story.
At this point in my life, the only thing I knew about recurves was that I terrorized squirrels and rabbits and grape robbing birds with a 35# Bear, and that another make of old bows was Ben Pearson. I knew that because I now had my own handful of t-shirt, wiping more dust, looking for any other clue that might tell me something more about my new treasure. Sadly, the rest of the writing was worn off.
See, I had hunted plenty before this. I'd taken a few deer and a couple elk with bullets, and dabbled plenty in the modern day archery to know this recurve and I where going make history together. I also vowed, come this bow season, we were going to make meat together...
And that's how my journey started. All with a simple hand shake on a hot summers day..
Todd
More tomorrow..
Thanks for the comments!
Memories from the heart . . . .
Those are the best stories to tell/hear. It brings back so many memories about growing up. Thanks for sharing your memories wit us, Todd. Looking fwd to reading more.
The task of moving my Grandfather has long since been complete.
The task of setting up and getting that bow ready for season now needed to be settled. At that age, the only outfitter I knew of was Cabelas. I measured the best I could and ordered a string. I didn't know anything about brace height at the time and wonderful resources like Tradgang or even a pro-shop where scarce. The string showed up in the mail and I figured I better motor my '78 to Grand Junction for a little help and little direction.
Jerry's Sporting Goods was the only place I knew of and he was willing to help out... The best a compound shooter knows how. He found some literature on brace height and we discovered my string was a bout 2" too long. Luckily he happened to have the right size and we got that lined out.
We further put the bow on the scale and determined it to be 50# @ 28".. Jerry also dug out a couple of packages of glue on broad heads he sold me at an incredible discount. I didn't even know what they where, but they sure looked cool. (Knowing what I know now, they were 160 grain glue on Snuffers.) Back home, I got into the Cabelas catalog again and ordered a dozen cedar arrows. I didn't know anything about spine and just ordered the 50-55# spined arrows because my bow was a 50#er.. I also didn't quite realize I had a full 30" draw either. I also ordered a slide on quiver and a few other trinkets as well. All on a cemetery lawn keepers wage.
A long story short, my arrows where too weak, my broad heads to heavy, but as far as I knew, I was sitting in tall cotton and was I ever happy...
Now for the real task of getting the archer ready for bow season....
In my ignorance, I thought poor arrow flight was part of the gig. I didn't have bad arrow flight, but a long way from perfect.
During that summer, there wasn't a day I didn't practice, or a prairie dog town I didn't harass. And what a great summer I had. I took several week end trips up to the mountain for scouting and camping. Just me, my bow, a fishing pole and my old flat bed '78 Ford.
When the tags went on sale, I was first in line. I bought a regular general archery Utah buck permit.
The summer passed too quickly as good summers do, and before I knew it I was tossing and turning in my sleeping bag, for when the sun dawned on the new day, the season was open...
I was up and awake by midnight. I had put the finishing touches to my old knife for the 300th time, touched up the broad heads in my quiver for the 500th time, made sure my pack was square for the 1000th time, all in the last week.
This was the first time I ventured out so to speak. Every other year I always asked my Dad, "Where are we camping?" or "Where are we going to be hunting?" This was the first year he asked me those same questions. He knew it long before I did, but he was seeing and watching with his eyes what his years of guidance had done. I didn't realize it then as I was so engaged in this hunt, but for the first time, he took the passenger seat and gave me the reigns on my own hunt. For the first time, the conclusion of this hunt would lay totally on my shoulders. I will for ever be grateful for my father...
He made it until about 2:00 a.m. before the lights flicked on in his camper.
"Bacons' on, Son...." He said as he poked his head out the camper door.
It didn't take me long before I was pouring a cup of Folgers and taking in the crackle of the swine. I can remember thinking "like father like son" as he popped a hair or two on his fore-arm before putting his Old timer back in its case. I know good and well that was the 300th time he checked his blade as well.
"Where you headed this mornin'?" He wondered.
"Pine Ridge has a few nice bucks on it; I think I'll start there."
"Think I'll head to the Brush Hole." He said.
And that was the moment the importance of what was happening first started to trickle into my miniscule head.
For the first time, we weren't going to hunt the same ridge or area. For the first time he didn't feel he needed to keep a tab on me. Don't get me wrong, I love hunting with my father and we have hunted a bunch together, but the sense of manhood that morning gave me still motivates me to this day.
"Sounds like a plan, Dad. Don't wait on lunch for me. I'm not coming back until I have meat to hang or run out of light...."
Well, I was back by mid-afternoon..........
Todd
Nice...so it got dark real early :knothead:
Awesome storytelling Todd!
Todd
As you portray the feelings and memories of this hunt, I am taken back to a very similar place and an all too familiar setting I shared with my father so many years ago. Those feelings and memories are like none other and never go away. Thanks for sharing this with us, and allowing me to reflect on what hunting, and archery is really all about.
Ok so where were you...... :campfire: :archer:
Great story!I can hardly wait for more.That reminds me I had better check my knife.Turkey season starts in a couple of months.
Bill
Great memory's for sure and I'm sure this is going to strike home to a lot of people on here. :clapper:
I always injoy reading your storys buddy, You have a great way of putting pen to paper and telling a mean story. :coffee:
Great story. It is wonderful to see you connecting these dots as they span generations.
:wavey: :thumbsup:
Come on Bud! Keep it comin. This is great reading, as Tracy said, you have a gift with the pen. :campfire: :clapper:
TTT for my buddy :wavey:
Tracy :coffee:
Dang!!!
Some of us can`t take the wait you know!!!
This morning, as I brought to life that same 400 cubic inch engine, and the power steering squealed in excitement to go, the dew drops from the humid mountain night clung to the windshield almost in a manner as to say, "You better take us with you!"
With the Ben Pearson strung and ready, I sat it in the passenger seat along with his buddy, my pack. When the headlights lit the damp two track that lead from camp, the team also couldn't help but to shine a little light on the all the adventures this two track has been apart of, and the adventures it was going to be a part of.
Every bow has its own personality, and as we spit-spat and sputtered down that road, I looked over at that bow as I would a best freind and adjusted it as to make sure it had a good enough view to enjoy the show the headlights where providing.
Todd
Great story. My dad didn't hunt, so I had to do it all on my own. I was a man grown when a Mentor found me! An unlikely grumpy,old,damn yankee from Minn. I miss him so!
Thanks for the memories, that are flooding back with the telling of your EPIC!
Johnny/JAG
I had no real plan of how I was going to attack this ridge. While driving into the area, I stopped and parked in the first spot that was convenient. It was still a touch dark, but light enough to see an off colored patch of grass well enough to do a little pre-hunt stumping. The blunt tipped cedar found its mark the several times I shot. I sat there, leaning against my Ford, watching the wonders of the world come to light and life before me.
The mode or mood I was in on that particular morning was 100 percent primal. For the first time in my life, I wasn't counting on luck or chance with this hunt. Right there, standing flat footed, I knew this hunt was going to be successful.
For the first time in my life, I was a predator.
Todd
I knocked an arrow before even leaving the truck, and for the 501st time, I checked the sharpness of the big three bladed head.
Just as soon as the truck was out of sight, I slowed down. And by 'slowed down', I mean I was taking a single step then stopping and looking. I had no real direction. I took that step in the opposite direction of the wind.
It didn't take long before I was seeing deer. I rushed nothing and didn't leave a shadow or clump of oak un-glassed. If there were deer in front of me, I sat and watched until they weren't in front of me any longer.
Time had no meaning. The only thing that mattered to me was making sure the wind was in my face. The hours passed way faster then the ground I covered.
About 10:00ish that morning, and the dew had burned off, I sat on a dead fall quaky long enough to peal my boots and put on my heavy wool socks. I stowed my boots in my pack and took a swig or two from my standard issue G.I. canteen.
One step at a time, I worked the wind. If I got tired, I sat for a minute. When I glassed hard enough to make my eyes cross, I closed them. When I felt I was taking that step too fast, I slowed. By God, I was hunting.
Todd
More please.
I worked this one draw in particular. I saw more bucks on it during my summer scouting then any other. The draw is comprised of quaky and tall pine being the most prominent with oak brush scattered galore through the forest floor. A trickling spring provided an ample amount of water.
Step after glassing, glassing after step. It was approaching 1:00pm and I wasn't a mile from my truck. Step after glassing, glassing after step, I continued.
I was mid stride in one of my steps when the glare of a velvety antler at my 10 o'clock position caught my eye...
Todd
Quotethe power steering squealed in excitement to go
I owned an old 78 Chevy Scottsdale and that line rekindled some fond memories.
I'm enjoying this one a lot! Thanks for taking the time to take us along.
:thumbsup: :coffee:
I instantly froze to assess the situation.
A slow inspection through my cheap Tasco binoculars revealed what I already knew. The buck was bedded about 60 yards from me. A huge ponderosa prevented me from seeing anything else but this bucks right side, nice four point antler. That ponderosa also prevented the buck from seeing me. The wind was perfect as it had been all morning.
The big tree that was now my 2nd best friend was only about 15ish yards from the buck. I knew if I could quietly keep that tree between the buck and myself, I could close the gap and take this deer.
I did nothing different. I would take a step toward the tree, then stop and look. I spent the better part of an hour closing those 45 yards. While meticulous, that hour passed and I was now well within range of this unaware buck.
I wiped the sweat of my bow hand on my pant leg before placing my firm clench on the bows grip. I brought the string to anchor before I took that defining step. And when I took that step, I wasn't prepared for how relaxed the buck was.
His eyes were closed, his ears were tucked, and he chewed his cud. I admired the buck for a fraction of a second before I concentrated on the patch of hair that covered his heart. The buck was slightly quartering away.
The sound of the bow delivering the arrow woke the buck. I couldn't help but take my concentration from my target spot to his eyes as the arrow sailed through the air in slow motion....
I took a quick glance at my intended target again just in time to see every muscle in that buck's body flex in a desperate maneuver to get out of bed and away from this predator.
However, it was too late. That huge 3 bladed head buried to the white crest of the cedar shaft and huge amounts of blood had started to poor from this awesome creature's chest. His death was inevitable....
Todd
With ya with each step Todd! Great story telling!!
PS. You going to the Western Park Shoot in Vernal, 1st weekend in March I think?
up
Great story Todd! Keep it coming I'm on the edge of my seat! Ben
The buck somehow made it to his feet, but not 30 yards further. It was my most speedy kill to this day.
I reflected for 15 minutes of what happened. It was an emotional time for me. I can't put that moment in words any better then that.
I admired my buck for a few minutes, but went straight to work. It was hot by now, and I wondered if Dad was still around. I couldn't wait to show him.
I dragged the buck back to the truck, and that only took about a half hour. I hadn't walked far at all, but what I did walk, I hunted.
I to this day I haven't ever been able to put myself in that exact mode again. I hope to and really going to strive for it next time I hunt.
I was back to camp in short order to find my father absent. I was ok with that. I still had work to do and the emotions I was experiencing needed to be experienced alone. I hung, skinned and bagged my buck. Just as I was putting the last knot in the game bag, I heard my dad coming down the two track.
I stood there waiting for his words. His grin was priceless.
He walked over, extended his hand in his ever so friendly tradition of shaking and said, "Son, you are a fine hunter."
(http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n32/papsblueribbon1/IMG_0886.jpg)
The end...
Thanks for all of your kind comments.
Thanks for joining me on this wonderful hunt. It was a pleasure sharing it with you all as we all need a trip down memory lane once in a while.
God bless,
Todd
I was sure hoping there was a pic at the end of this :thumbsup:
The words of your dad said so much without saying much at all!
Really enjoyed that Todd!
Thank You!
Thanks for taking us along, wonderfull writing.
OUTSTANDING!!
Great story, I enjoyed reading it.
A great story, very well told. Thank you.
You are a wonderful story teller! Thank you.
Great Story Beginning to End !
Thanks for taking us along. Great story! :clapper:
Thanks for sharing a wonderful story
Wonderful story, thank you for sharing.
Thank you for a great story. It made for a nice morning read.
What an awesome story! Thank you for sharing it with us here.
Great story,
thank you!!!!
You are a fine hunter!!!!
Great story,
Thanks for sharing it with us.
That story is the greatest. Excellent story telling. Great timing. Everything perfect!
Great story Todd.....you had me on the edge of my seat the whole way!
That was excellent. Thanks you!
Now, I gotta go sharpen my knife (again).
Excellent story!
Fine story-biginning to end. Enjoyed the picture and your Dad's words of praise. Too many people use ten words when two are all that is needed.
That was awesome. My dad took me hunting when he really had more important things to do when I was young and we used a 77 f150 much like yours.
He died Christmas morning.
Your story really hits home. Thanks
Thanks for the wonderful story!
Todd, this has been a excellent story to read. Thanks for sharing it with us.
I spent the day with Ben ( Ksbowman )yesterday and got to hear the Bear story first hand. LOL
Thanks again for taking us on a great journey.
bretto
great, great story, very well told, thanks for sharing
Super story Todd,I was hoping your dad was in the picture. Tell him I said hi. Ben
Love the pic my friend :thumbsup:
Great story telling as always looking forward to the next one. :D
Tracy
Well you are all most certainly welcome.
However, I feel I'm the one who needs to be thanking all of you. I am deeply humbled and moved by the joy you've found in my story.
Happy hunting to you all!
Todd
outstanding story :clapper:
Thanks
Margly
Awesome story!!! :thumbsup:
Awesome, you paint a picture in the minds eye, almost feels like we were there with you. Thanks for sharing.
Just thought I'd share one more picture of the buck.
I hang him by my door (and the picture in the story) so I can't help but think about that day often..
Thanks once again for reading.
(http://i108.photobucket.com/albums/n32/papsblueribbon1/IMG_0888.jpg)
God bless,
Todd
Awesome buddy! :notworthy:
Thank You!
Thanks for sharing, Great story.
Your front room looks a little different since the last time I was there :wavey:
Tracy
Awsome story, stuff like this makes lee and tiffiny type shows look even worse than they do. This story is from the heart about a real hunt and all the pen raised, managed private ground huge buck stories on the outdoor channel couldnt touch it. Thanks, and Im gald that some people "get it" when it comes to hunting. Good job sir.
Todd that is a great story!! Knowing you and your Dad, it's even more special. Tracy said your living room looks different, I'm guessin it will look even more so say come Sept. Great job Bud!!!
Great story what an awesome hunt.
Todd,
The art of story telling isn't lost.
You spin a fine story, and you surley did have a great hunt. Many more to you.
Thanks for the experience, felt like I right beside you.
Todd, I just joined up with tradgang this week. I've been clicking through each link I can get into just to get a feel of what this site is about. Your story tells me I found the right site for me. Thank you.
Stan
wonderful memories! A great story about a great time in your life.Thank you.
That's a great story Todd, thanks for putting it here for all to share.
Great story thank you for sharing!
Great story.......and told in a manner indicating a warm smile recalling the fondest of memories. Thank you for sharing this with all of us.
Yep.....Enjoyed that...... Thank you
Something like that adds years to a life. :campfire:
Awesome story! Thanks for your memories.