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My Dad Passed away dec 2001. He would always build a fire when we hunted deer, he could sit all day, and if things were slow he would just sit and talk softly, teaching me not only hunting but about life. I started in 1958, I was lucky enough to kill a buck the first day out. How he kept me still enough is beyond me.
The Good Lord had Dad around when my kids started hunting, man did they love to hunt with Grandpa, of course he had his hunting coat stuffed with goodies for the kids.
As Dad got older, he hunted till he was 85, he wasn't able to go deep into the woods so he would sit not far from the road and go back to his truck and get warmed up. His truck became "traffic central" everyone stopped to see who got what and where everyone was hunting.
Man what I would give to, one more time, sit on an old log, eat a sandwich toasted over a fire and listen to the Man I owe everything too tell me about hunting bunnies with a "crackshot".
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