Earlier this year, I was complaining to a friend on the phone about a brief financial difficulty I was having. In the conversation I also talked about how excited I was to get my young son out hunting this year. After our conversation, out of the goodness of his heart, he dug into his wallet and mailed me some cash with a little note that he wanted to make sure I could get my son out for his first hunt. Finances are better now, but they weren't during the hunt this year. The cash he sent was a huge blessing to me and my son.
I was able to take my son out for his first few hunts. Despite our best efforts, our freezer ended up empty except for the good memories and high hopes for next year.
At last light on our last hunt, we were driving out and saw another party in the bottom of a ravine about 70 yards off the side of the road. It looked like they had a deer down, so I thought it would be good for my boy to take a look. We pulled over and climbed down. A 13 year old kid had taken a nice buck. We congratulated them, listened to their story and asked if they needed help pulling it up to the road. It seemed like a small thing to me, but they were VERY grateful and kept saying what a "real sportsman" I was. I didn't think we were doing anything special. I was just happy to take a look, help a little, and find joy in their success. We hadn't had any of our own.
On the way home that night I started pondering what it meant to be a "real sportsman".
My friend who sent the gas money that got us out hunting this year is a real sportsman.
In 2013 I shot a little six point bull with my bow about 2 1/2 miles back. My brothers and cousin who helped carry that elk and my sorry backside off that mountain are real sportsmen.
In 2012 I took a nice little muley (about 155) as another party looked on. They had a tag, but because I was there first, they waited and let me shoot. It's my best buck to date, and the kind folks who waited (and actually had an easier shot than me) are real sportsmen.
This year my little brother shot an elk and my father (who is nearly 70 and was less than two weeks out of gall bladder surgery) hauled himself up the mountain with a grandson to help out. For this reason, and a thousand others I don't have time to list, he is a real sportsman.
As a kid, we had a little hunting spot that a land owner would let us hunt on. Last year I mapped out the deer that we killed on that spot back in the 80's and 90's. We had about 40 kills in a fairly small area. That generous landowner is a real sportsman.
Too often here on MM we read stories about other people being jerks, or making what we consider silly choices out in the hills. I would like this thread to be dedicated to good stories about good people. Please add your stories to mine. Thank you, to all of the real sportsmen out there who are doing good things, and helping others. Life is good, and you make it better.
Merry Christmas,
Soup
I was able to take my son out for his first few hunts. Despite our best efforts, our freezer ended up empty except for the good memories and high hopes for next year.
At last light on our last hunt, we were driving out and saw another party in the bottom of a ravine about 70 yards off the side of the road. It looked like they had a deer down, so I thought it would be good for my boy to take a look. We pulled over and climbed down. A 13 year old kid had taken a nice buck. We congratulated them, listened to their story and asked if they needed help pulling it up to the road. It seemed like a small thing to me, but they were VERY grateful and kept saying what a "real sportsman" I was. I didn't think we were doing anything special. I was just happy to take a look, help a little, and find joy in their success. We hadn't had any of our own.
On the way home that night I started pondering what it meant to be a "real sportsman".
My friend who sent the gas money that got us out hunting this year is a real sportsman.
In 2013 I shot a little six point bull with my bow about 2 1/2 miles back. My brothers and cousin who helped carry that elk and my sorry backside off that mountain are real sportsmen.
In 2012 I took a nice little muley (about 155) as another party looked on. They had a tag, but because I was there first, they waited and let me shoot. It's my best buck to date, and the kind folks who waited (and actually had an easier shot than me) are real sportsmen.
This year my little brother shot an elk and my father (who is nearly 70 and was less than two weeks out of gall bladder surgery) hauled himself up the mountain with a grandson to help out. For this reason, and a thousand others I don't have time to list, he is a real sportsman.
As a kid, we had a little hunting spot that a land owner would let us hunt on. Last year I mapped out the deer that we killed on that spot back in the 80's and 90's. We had about 40 kills in a fairly small area. That generous landowner is a real sportsman.
Too often here on MM we read stories about other people being jerks, or making what we consider silly choices out in the hills. I would like this thread to be dedicated to good stories about good people. Please add your stories to mine. Thank you, to all of the real sportsmen out there who are doing good things, and helping others. Life is good, and you make it better.
Merry Christmas,
Soup