Hunting with Mike

My hunting memories are some of the most treasured data I have stored in my personal computer (my brain.) At this stage in life not everything that’s been put in there can be “brought up.” Their are certain things that happen in life that seem to stick with you “till death do you part.” I am so very thankful for the many wonderful memories I have been able to retain from my hunting experiences. I hope you (the reader) will give me the liberty to share some of these with you.

First and foremost are those great memories I have of my dad, mom, and five brothers. I could write a book about the Ansel excursions to Lewiston and North Shores Resort. An early memory took place right here in LaSalle when I was about 14 years old. We were pheasant hunting on one of the (Kreps) farms with our trusty bird dog Flopsy. She went on point around an abandoned piece of farm machinery in an overgrown field. My dad (Norm) ordered her to “flush” and she jumped right in the middle of three roosters. Of course they flew in three different directions, but their tactic didn’t phase my dad one bit. With the precision of an expert marksman he dropped all three birds in a manner of seconds. I was impressed then and am even more enamored by that feat 46 years later. My dad never shot a ton of bucks, but I was there when he shot his 11 pointer that won the Lewiston big buck pole contest. Then there was the two 6 pointers he dropped with running shots (open sights) that no one could believe. The first one happened while my brother Randy was with the Marines in Viet-Nam, and I was the only one old enough to go that year. The second came on a snowy November deer drive that Randy Redmond and Pat McElligot were part of. Not too many years before my dad went to be with the Lord, we took up bear hunting at the beautifull Baldwin camp in Marquette. My dad was a great camp cook and that first meal at the old camp with Gary Baldwin and Herm Fowler was one of the best meals I’ve ever had in my life. Gary brought 2 big fillets of lake trout, plus we had partridge, and squirrel. He made potatoes, beans, and a salad over a wood stove by lantern light. My brother Darryl and I got bear that first year and we were hooked to say the least. My dad shot his one and only bear in 1977 while hunting with brother Randy. What a celebration we had in camp that night. If only we would of know “Papa Bear” would be leaving us in 1978 we might not of ever quit celebrating. Thanks for these and all the wonderfull memories you left us Dad-your the best.

Mike

This entry was posted on Wednesday, April 11th, 2007 at 4:37 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.