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Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
To all you young hunters (and maybe for you old guys too), here's something to think about:
An Old-Timer
There was a time when I could run up mountains with my rifle and pack and think nothing of it. In fact, I could do it more than once in the same day if I had to.
I never felt uncomfortable. Even in the wettest, coldest weather, it was a welcomed challenge, if not out-and-out fun.
I could drag a deer out with or without help - no big deal.
It's not quite like that any more.
I look for more level ground to hunt, or go really slow and easy up hill and down.
I pick my days - not too cold... or too wet... or too windy. Comfort means a lot more than it used to.
I use a deer hauler (or my daughter's boyfriend) to get the animals back to the truck.
And I shoot what I call "old man's deer". That is a deer that's just big enough so that I'm not ashamed when I get it back to the truck, but just small enough so I don't have a heart attack getting it there.
I don't have anything to prove any more.

You guys who are over sixty know what I'm talking about, you younger guys, if you are lucky enough, will find out!
 

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What you are saying makes sense to me at 54

By the sound of your post you are just a lot smarter than you used to be. I don't think it was ever fun going up and down in the mountains you just were enjoying yourself so much your didn't notice.

Karl
 

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One horse I am with ya (getting there at least) But my first response to your question was going to be Hunting Man Sorry HM you must have known someone was going to say it
 

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Well here I sit drenched with sweat can't hardly put one foot in front of the other. Man that was a hard 400yd walk up hill to my box blind. I wonder was it the two heart attacks? 60lbs overweight?, two steel knees? high blood pressure?
diabetes ? or just 65 years of abuse and use of this old body?
At the end of the day after all you young guys have run up and down the hill a few times, I'm ready to leave. Here comes my boy! you ready to go eat supper old timer? Yep I say, then I remember;son go over and get my ten point so we can get it down off the hill, damn I almost forgot to get that thing!!!!!!
an old timer
daddus
 

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At 58 I still have a pretty good giddy up in my step. I find myself like One Horse and have slowed my hunting down some maybe enjoying the woods time more now than when I was younger. I can remember crawling through ice watered corn fields for ducks and geese or bow hunting the UP of Michigan in -20* and really enjoying myself. Now seems like I can't take the cold very well. Feet and hands are becoming a big problem. While I have learned to hunt without my Dad and Brother, I still have a small group of hunting buddies to share new hunting stories and trips with. If the good Lord allows me to have a few more hunting trips I'd like to go on one major hunt with my son. We'll see! I'm not to old to kick some major butt if provoked! :ranting:
 

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"We'll see! I'm not to old to kick some major butt if provoked! :ranting: "
WOW wonder who got you upset :whistling::w00t:
 

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Im 41 with 2 artificial discs in my neck thanks to a life of making a living with my back.Now 3 years ago i went to the top of the mountain in my area and shot a big 8pt with the bow.I shot him at 245pm and dragged him back to the trailer and got back at 635pm.When i look at where i shot him and dragged him from i must have been nuts:wacko:.I have no desire to ever do that again without a quad.Id be just as happy with a fat doe hunting behind the trailer.Guess im getting old too!:crybaby:
 

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Spiker is trying to be funny.... I said trying :sad:.. here is Spiker when he finds out I'm on vacation :unsure:....... I got some decent sleep last night after moving a ton of mulch yesterday. Have to go back for another 1/2 load to finish today. It's been in the 80's which is rare/strange for March in NW Ohio, we should still have snow piles on the ground. I even mowed my grass. Not bad for an old guy. :lol:
 

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GEEZ... Reading all these posts reminds me of a Nursing Home newsletter! I feel like my life-long dog just died. Man... I need to go eat some sugar or something to pep me back up.

GFD- thanks for filling in for me on the "old timer" while I was absent.

BTW guys--- i have lost 40lbs so far and still going!
 

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Well, I'm a little more than five years shy of that big six-oh mark that someone put out there. As y'all have noticed in most of my pictures, I retrieve the deer I shoot in a wheel barrow to "drag" them back to the house. The house sits on the higher part of the property with the hunting area in the property's lowest. And y'all have seen the deer I shot opening day last season - it was part of the contest someone else won . . . dang it!! . . .
But to get on with the story, the wheel barrow was purchased right after we bought the house back in '98. It's been sitting outside in the weather ever since, most of the time propped up against the side of the house somewhere. To make a long story short, that buck took off and headed up to the top of the small ridge at the back side of the property before dropping. Found him, took a picture where he fell, then headed back to the house to drop off the rifle and grab the wheel barrow.
Took several loooong minutes to get the buck into the danged wheel barrow to begin with, wheel barrow handles groaning almost as much as I was with the strain of the buck's weight. Older son was at work, younger son was in town with his friends, and wasn't about to admit to mama that I couldn't do this by myself. Had to turn the wheel barrow around and walk backwards down the hill to keep from losing the balance across the rocky terrain, only to have one of the wheel barrow handles snap from age/rot/weather/whatever. . . . .and the wheelbarrow falls over spilling the buck back onto the ground. (Hate that when it happens!)
I look at the wheel barrow and think I can get the truck back to this part of the property then remember . . . . daughter has the truck, she drove it to work at Wally World. That leaves mama's Suburban. You have to understand that mama's Suburban is her Precious, her Baby. So the idea of even asking to drive her Precious through the brush to get to the back side of the property is saying something.
Much to my surprise, she agrees. . . . but now what do I use for the buck . . . I don't dare even think of putting it in the back. Ah, the shelf thingy that mounts to the receiver . . . . yeah, that ought to do the trick.
Found out that it was much easier getting the buck into the wheel barrow and the wheel barrow up right than trying to maneuver that buck onto that receiver mounted shelf thingy, even as low to the ground as it was. Eventually . . . . . after almost twenty minutes of going back and forth between front legs, head/antlers, hind legs, and anything in between . . . . I get the buck onto the receiver mounted shelf thingy so that I can begin the slow, three hundred yard drive back to the house WITHOUT scraping mama's Precious on any brush.

Mama came out when I got to the house NOT to look at the deer, but to inspect her Precious to ensure I hadn't put a single scrape on it. Only then did she look (more like glance) at the deer and tell me "Nice roasts!" and walk back inside.

First thing I did that week was order myself some new wheel barrow handles so I could have them mounted before the next weekend. Wasn't about to have to go through THAT mess again.

P.S. Does that mean I get to "qualify" for old timer five years early???

RR
 

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Well, I'm a little more than five years shy of that big six-oh mark that someone put out there. As y'all have noticed in most of my pictures, I retrieve the deer I shoot in a wheel barrow to "drag" them back to the house. The house sits on the higher part of the property with the hunting area in the property's lowest. And y'all have seen the deer I shot opening day last season - it was part of the contest someone else won . . . dang it!! . . .
But to get on with the story, the wheel barrow was purchased right after we bought the house back in '98. It's been sitting outside in the weather ever since, most of the time propped up against the side of the house somewhere. To make a long story short, that buck took off and headed up to the top of the small ridge at the back side of the property before dropping. Found him, took a picture where he fell, then headed back to the house to drop off the rifle and grab the wheel barrow.
Took several loooong minutes to get the buck into the danged wheel barrow to begin with, wheel barrow handles groaning almost as much as I was with the strain of the buck's weight. Older son was at work, younger son was in town with his friends, and wasn't about to admit to mama that I couldn't do this by myself. Had to turn the wheel barrow around and walk backwards down the hill to keep from losing the balance across the rocky terrain, only to have one of the wheel barrow handles snap from age/rot/weather/whatever. . . . .and the wheelbarrow falls over spilling the buck back onto the ground. (Hate that when it happens!)
I look at the wheel barrow and think I can get the truck back to this part of the property then remember . . . . daughter has the truck, she drove it to work at Wally World. That leaves mama's Suburban. You have to understand that mama's Suburban is her Precious, her Baby. So the idea of even asking to drive her Precious through the brush to get to the back side of the property is saying something.
Much to my surprise, she agrees. . . . but now what do I use for the buck . . . I don't dare even think of putting it in the back. Ah, the shelf thingy that mounts to the receiver . . . . yeah, that ought to do the trick.
Found out that it was much easier getting the buck into the wheel barrow and the wheel barrow up right than trying to maneuver that buck onto that receiver mounted shelf thingy, even as low to the ground as it was. Eventually . . . . . after almost twenty minutes of going back and forth between front legs, head/antlers, hind legs, and anything in between . . . . I get the buck onto the receiver mounted shelf thingy so that I can begin the slow, three hundred yard drive back to the house WITHOUT scraping mama's Precious on any brush.

Mama came out when I got to the house NOT to look at the deer, but to inspect her Precious to ensure I hadn't put a single scrape on it. Only then did she look (more like glance) at the deer and tell me "Nice roasts!" and walk back inside.

First thing I did that week was order myself some new wheel barrow handles so I could have them mounted before the next weekend. Wasn't about to have to go through THAT mess again.

P.S. Does that mean I get to "qualify" for old timer five years early???

RR

YES! BTW- don't type so much, HM fell asleep 4 times while reading it. (it's what old people do!)
:no:
 
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