(http://i544.photobucket.com/albums/hh338/spikeknife/jp10002.jpg)
Can't say I recognize anyone. . . Who are we lookin at?
Shoot, I know three for sure and maybe the guy in the white t-shirt, too. Sure do miss the gentleman on the left.
Yep! Thought that was Jerry.
I think this might be for a different hawkeye.
Haha, nevermind then :)
Yes, Jerry on the left.
The dog is Buddy.
It's been awhile since I took this photo but believe the fellow in the white shirt is Brian Cole, form the early Stickbow days.
I think we were shooting a plastic bottle cap and Jerry was beating the socks off us.
Jerry was a very good shot. Down at the target is Bernard Swank and the guy on the right with two bows is Daryl Harding, aka Hawkeye. Haven't seen or heard from Brian in years. Thanks for the pic, LA. :)
I am in contact with Brian Cole frequently. He now lives in Nashville,Tn and is making it as a singer/songwriter.
Wow, Cliff! That brings back a flood of important and wonderful memories. Thank you!
Within 10 days of the time that photo was taken, Jerry was gone, felled by a fatal heart attack. I've lost several good friends in my life, but JP is the one I still think of, and miss, often. He was a very special man, and there are too, too, few like him.
There are a dozen worthwhile stories from this hunt, but there is one in particular your picture brought back to mind...
At this time (March of '99), I had been shooting traditional equipment for 5 years, but had little time to hunt because of farm life and business responsibilities. Here I was in South Carolina for my first hog hunt, but had only killed a handful of squirrels, two rabbits, a skunk(!), and a 1" hickory sapling covering the heart of a small whitetail buck in my bowhunting career.
After several days of wandering the 11,000 swamp with no knowledge of where to look or what to do, I headed down one of the sandy roads toward the middle of the swamp in Jerry's Ranger pickup. He was staying in camp because he was feeling poorly from the flu (within a week we'd realize it had really something infinitely more serious), but insisted I take his truck and go out.
For several hours, I slipped along a creek in my very best farmboy fashion, honed from years in the squirrel woods. I heard a noise in the palmettos, and soon saw two 80# pigs rooting along in my direction. When one turned broadside at fifteen yards, I sent a Woodsman-tipped cedar shaft from the Choctaw recurve Jerry had given me a year earlier. The broadhead cut the spine and the top of the lungs, and seconds later my very first "big game" animal lay dead.
I got the pig dragged about 300 yards through the swamp and lifted up onto the tailgate, and pulled into camp just as the sun dipped near the horizon.
Jerry came sauntering out as I pulled my bow from the truck, and as a buddy of few words will do, said, "Well???" I suspect he expected me to say "No luck," based on previous experience.
I raised my eyebrows, and gestured toward the rear of the truck with my head. He looked at me over the top of his glasses (always a serious sign with him), and walked toward the tailgate wondering if I was trying to pull something...
When Jerry saw the pig, he let out a Rebel yell that would have made General Lee proud, pulled the trophy to the ground to examine it closely, and smiled a smile I will never forget. He repeatedly asked for details, shook my hand several times, and ended up slapping me on the back in congratulations with his big sledgehammer hands until it almost made me dizzy.
Jerry was a usually quiet and reserved guy, but a dear friend, and he was thrilled with my success as a relative rookie. As he slapped my back, he crowed, "And the BEST part is... it was with a PIERCE BOW!!!!!," and gestured like someone celebrating a game winning touchdown. I remember his exuberance with great fondness, and it is one of the last memories I got to share with him.
Cliff, I don't know if you still have yours, but I brought crested, splice-fletched arrows for each person on that hunt, and we all signed each other's as souvenirs. It was the first time I'd tried fancy-pants arrows, and kept the worst one for myself, as you'll see from the cresting. I pulled it out of my bow rack tonight, and have attempted to attach a picture. If it is clear enough, you'll see your name, Jerry's, and my last name in the photo. The other names signed from the hunt around the arrow are Robert Packard, Dean Torges, Brian Cole, Jan Adkins, Gene Langston, and Stanley Anderson.
(http://i386.photobucket.com/albums/oo306/Hawkeye-Jireh/MillburyArrow003.jpg)
They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but your picture was worth a thousand fond memories. I'll quit before I end up typing 1,000 words in response, but I thank you!
Daryl
PS- The picture shows Jerry Pierce, Brian Cole, Buddy the Wonder Dog, Stanley Anderson (by the target- not Bernie Swank, although they share the same hair stylist), and yours truly holding two bows.
Geeeze, gettin' old is for the birds. I believe I gave my arrow to Fred Anderson for his arrow collection, but Robert has his prominently displayed in the new quarters.
I stumbled upon this old gal back off Middle Swamp Road [this fall renamed "Dead Dog Road" during our annual hunt, which is another story] with a boy friend during this hunt.
It was a little tense for awhile after shooting her at 5 yards. The sow walked off and laid down but the boar wasn't wanting to leave her and fussed about in the palmettos until I gave the gal another broadside. After squealing like Ned Beatty at the impact, she rolled over and died.
The boar came un-glued at that point, rammed her, then headed my direction at a high rate of speed. With more quickness than I thought possible, I jumped behind a tree and tossed one over his shoulder as he passed. I don't believe he actually met to charge me, but just happened to be pointed in my direction when he finally decided to leave the field of battle, but sure had me fooled for a second or two.
As I was walking out to get some help, Robert and Jerry drove up and Jerry insisted we go back and get the hog right then. We did and the three of us took turns pulled the 155# sow about a quarter mile to where we could get my Suburban to her.
I was pretty dirty after all that, so cleaned up and changed shirts before the photo. :)
The world is a smaller place without Jerry, he touched so many folks.
(http://i544.photobucket.com/albums/hh338/spikeknife/jp20004-1.jpg)
Isn't it grand how memories like that can stick so vividly in our minds? Old friends brought back to life with the power of your brains. I didn't know Jerry myself, but through your stories I'm getting a pretty good picture. I'm betting he's wearing a big grin today knowing y'all are remembering the good times :campfire:
Great stuff right here!
No doubt a memorable hunt. Thanks for sharing.
This is cool. Gene Langston lives right down the road from me and was on here a few weeks back. He has been out of Archery a while but got himself a new Grayling Green Recurve. Love those Pierce Points.
very cool stuff guys ...
And people wonder why we like hunting? cool to look from the outside in on this thread.
Thanks Bill and Daryl for the updates and corrections. I wondered where this picture was taken, it sure didn't look like central IL. :D
Thanks guys :campfire:
Great story. Your words are a great tribute to your old friend.
Very Cool...........
I have to tell on Brian Cole. The part of the property we were hunting is about 8,000 acres and has a good network of roads. One is apt to encounter hogs anytime and as I showed him some of the property, we spotted a group rooting around in a road ditch.
I give Brian the honors and he bails out and begins his stalk down the right side, in and out of the woods. At this point it became obvious he hadn't much experience with hogs as he was sneaking like an Indian at 200 yards. It took him awhile to close the distance. :)
When he is about half way to the hogs, they decide to cross to the opposite side of the road from Brian. I'm parked in the middle of the road watching through the windshield of my old Suburban and the next thing I see, is Brian "low crawling" across the muddy road. He would have made a gator proud. :)
As it turns out the hogs became bored waiting on Brian to close and disappeared in a cane thicket. Brian returned, muddy and happy as a pig in slop over his encounter.
"Next time," he says.
"Next time, just walk down the road ditch and shoot one of those hogs," I says.
An eclectic group of "pig men."
(http://i544.photobucket.com/albums/hh338/spikeknife/group.jpg)
Cliff,
Did you ever bloody a Huntington self bow...
I was just re-reading that article two nights ago in Traditional Bowhunter...
Jonathan
Too funny! Brain approached every aspect of life with great passion, and crawling through mud was no exception!
It is a real paradigm shift for a whitetail hunter from the North to learn what you can pull off on pigs in the swamp when the wind is right. I remember seeing our host, Robert, close on a group of a dozen hogs with selfbow in hand the first day I hunted with him. When we spotted them at 150 yards, he took of as what I would best describe as a fast-but-quiet walking "bee line." He was using intervening trees as cover when convenient, but not worrying about much except closing the distance. I stood with my mouth open thinking, "You can't do that!"
Well on hogs, you can (sometimes). At thirty yards, it looked like it was all going to come together. At 29 yards, a shift in the breeze caught up, a smart old sow snapped to attention, and it was Game Over. In an instant, they were gone, and we stood all alone. Robert shrugged, came back, and said, "Let's go find some more." It was a blast to have a whole new species to hunt in a whole new way after 30 years of chasing Illinois whitetails and fox squirrels. All y'all are better at it than we were!
Wish we were all there again today, Cliff, that much younger, stronger, healthier, and very much alive. That was a wonderful time. And what a group of guys (read: cast of characters)!!!