More Hunting Stories

Lonehawk mentioned that Grandpa liked to hunt. He also loved to fish.

I can remember going fishing with him many times along the upper Mammoth. He would always put us in a hole where he was sure we would catch fish, and he always happy when we caught even a little pan fryer. BUT, I remember when we were on the lower Asay, and he hooked into a big lunker brown. He was up on one of the high clay banks, and had been fishing the ripples down to the next hole when this fish hit. He fought it back and forth and up and down that bank, always trying to get down to the river where he could land this big fish. After about twenty minutes, the brown broke his line, and got away. In spite of that, I can still remember him whooping and laughing on the bank, and had the time of his life.

As for hunting, he told me stories of several different deer hunts.

In one hunt, he and some others were working a draw along the road to Panguitch Lake. Grandpa and one other hunter stayed on one side of the draw, while two men went down the middle of the draw, and two others went to the top of the draw on the other side. Suddenly Grandpa nudged the other man and pointed at the hill side below them. There, sneaking through the sage brush, was a big four point buck, down on its knees crawling through the brush so it couldn't be seen. He said a buck that smart deserved to live, so he didn't shoot it.

Another time, he and another hunter were out working a heavy stand of pines. He said he couldn't see a thing because of all the pine branches, but they had seen a big buck run into these trees. He suddenly got the idea to get down on his knees and look for the legs of the buck. When he got down on the ground, there was the buck, about thirty yards away, down on its knees looking for them!

His stories of hunting were always entertaining, and he always claimed they were true. I believed every one of them. Stick.