I've had a ton of good hunts with both family and friends but there was one hunt that was always at the top of the list. 24 years ago my boss invited myself and two coworkers down to his ranch just outside of Rankin for a three day weekend of hunting mulie's. I had been there a few time and knew the layout, 12 sections with flats in the bottoms and on top, the whitetails ran the flats and the mulies ran the hills and rim's. The cabin is small but real nice and there's always a hi-rack pickup sitting out for the hunters, but this time there was a big horse trailer sitting there with 6 horses tied up out side. The plan for the weekend was to hunt entirely off of horse back we didn't fire up a vehicle for 2 a nd 1/2 days. When we got up the guide had breakfast made and went out and saddled the horses while we ate, each horse had a gun scabbard and a light saddle bag that we carried water and lunch in. After a quick meeting about where we all were headed we all took off by ourselves and worked the canyons and rim's looking for mulie's.



For those that have never had the chance to hunt from horse back all I'll say is it's a religious moment, it puts you in the seat of men gone by. The horses we had were some of the best, Steve said right from the front "These ain't riding horses these are hunting horse's, pay attention to them" and that we did. A horse don't miss a thing he'll spot/smell something long before you will and if you'll watch him he'll tell you every time. Every morning I took out and we just cruised the mountains, we'd run the side hills on the second rim stop and and rock the canyons and then head to the next one, I seen a ton of deer over that weekend but I never fired a shot. We did pack out two nice buck's with one almost making 30 inches before it was over but I went 0-0 and was just happy as could be.

Sounds like a heck of a hunt.

That's a great story

I've used horses to hunt for both mule deer and elk. A trail wise, savvy, horse make it a different experience. Always watch the horses ears.

However, my most memorable hunts have been those with my Grandson. It started out when he was 4 yoa. We sat in both blinds and brush. He had his BB gun and I had my 30-06. He got the first shot. If it wasn't a clean kill, I had to finish them off. Now, he's 14 and hunts alone with either his bow or his 243.

I have many but here is one to share.....
My nephew and I were walking to our stand when we heard the squeels and grunts of hogs. Many hogs. We stopped and looked and saw them through the brush. About 40 hogs and piglets everywhere. I aimed for the center of the hog pile and fired a shot. Pigs went in every direction. Soon we went to our target area to find 2 piglets with one shot. We radio'd to my dad, my mom, and my little neice in camp to come see. My neice was only 3 years old at the time so when they drove up and she saw the piglets and some blood she said "Ohh, are we gonna take them to the hos-i-pit-al" It broke my heart at first but when I explained things to her she was so proud of our big hunt. A few years have past and she is one of our biggest hunters on our property!

My most memorable hunt by far was my hunt with huntingwithsoldiers. It was the first time I had been hunting in a very long time and I connected with a great 8 point. Thanks again to Gordon.

I've posted this here before but it is my most memorable.. Happened back in 05.

I headed to the deer lease Friday night after work and arrived a bit late. After packing all my gear into the camper, I settled in for the night. The wind was howling between 15-20mph and the camper was rocking back and forth. Between the rocking, howling wind and mesquite branches scraping on the roof, I was having trouble getting off to sleep so I took a sleep aid. It knocked me out cold. (I hardly ever take them.)

The alarm went off at 4:00am so I rolled from my bunk and got dressed still feeling the effects of the sleeping pill. I walked through the woods, climbed up into my tripod and settled in for the 1.5hr wait until shooing light. Still feeling the effects of the sleeping pill long after getting to my stand I decided a "short" nap was in order. I laid my bow across my lap, ducked my head and went to sleep. This wasn't your normal nap but rather a deep, unconscious, comma like sleep.

Right at daybreak I awoke to a crunching sound that I first perceived as deer crunching corn. Without moving my head, I looked up with my eyes and scanned the surrounding landscape; there wasn't any deer. I was still a bit groggy from my nap and not fully awake but could still hear the crunching and I knew something wasn't right.

It only took me a few more moments to realize that there was a softball sized rat sitting in my lap and the crunching sounds was the rat eating my bow! I don't know how or when it got there, but apparently it had been there chowing down for quite some time. It had my grip eaten off and most of the little foam arrow holder was gone by the time I realized he was there.

I reached out and backhanded him off my lap like he was a fire I was trying to put out. I'll be danged if he didn't run back up my leg and growl at me! I'd like to think that I'm as much of a "man's" man as the rest of you here but apparently I'm not because that rat scared the hell out of me. I'm not sure if deer are attracted to the sounds of a man screaming like a woman but if they are I'd be willing to bet I could have killed a monster this morning.

Anyway, to make a short story long, he did more damage to my pride than my bow.


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Love that rat story.

No doubt, being with my 10 year old son when he shot his first buck, a 20" 10 pointer The first day of his first hunt! What luck!

Mine would have to be a tie between two different hunts.

The first was when I killed my first deer, a doe in Haskell county. I was 7yo and were hunting on the Krooked River Ranch for a doe after not getting a single chance at a deer all season on our lease. Finally, at last light we drove along the edge of a wheat field and saw a small buck chasing a doe. She finally stopped and looked back at us and I shot. The doe just slowly started walking away. My dad, as shook up as he was, starts saying you missed, you missed, get another shell...and she falls over. Perfect heart shot. He about beat my spine through my chest congratulating me. Never felt like he was more proud of me in my life.

The other time being when we were hunting a lease south of Abilene about 10 years later. I was hunting a box blind and dad a tripod down the road a ways. It starts misting rain and I look over and see him walk up and he crawls in the blind with me. We sit for a while and two does walk out. I had already shot a doe and was after a buck so he decides he wanted to shoot one of the doe. He starts trying to decide which is bigger and I get to hearing a strange thumping sound. I look over and he is almost in a full shake. I asked if that was his heart pounding and he smiled and said yeah, grabs the gun and drops one of the doe. I always knew that hunting was dad's favorite thing to do, but that day, at nearly 50 years young and a lifetime of hunting, he still got buck fever over a doe. He is 64 now and still gets excited and I hope I am the same way at that age.

I've shared the story on here before, but my most memorable hunt has to be with my dad, and one of the last times I would get to hunt with him and my mom (she passed later that year). We had the pigs patterned and knew they would be coming out eventually. Just like clock work, this big boar came in and he never knew what hit him. Used my moms .243 which is now in my collection and is my designated hog gun. Shot my first deer with my dad beside me and mom at the camp, and shot my first pig with my dad beside me and mom at the camp. Funny thing, though, mom loved hunting more than the both of us, but any time I hunted with her I got skunked!

Not a time goes by when I'm out in the woods I think about my family, I think it's why I love to hunt so much. In fact, just yesterday I was out at the lease setting up a new spot and the first thing I thought about was calling my dad. Even at 27, he's the one I talk to most about hunting, followed closely by my grandpa and uncle.

I pulled into camp one evening and my uncle (83 at the time) came out of his trailer to greet me. I asked if he'd seen anything and he said he'd killed a pig and that it was cleaned and one the top shelf of my refrigerator. I had a full-size fridge so a small pig filling the top rack wasn't unheard of. I look in the fridge, no pig. I holler to my uncle, "where's the pig?" "In your fridge!" he yells back. I look again, still no pig. I holler at him again. He gets flustered (he'd had a stroke a few years before) and yells at me, "Dammit, he's behind the milk!" I look again and there he was....in a 1-gallon zip-lock bag, behind the milk. The whole pig. He'd shot about a 5-pound pig....sure was good eating though! We cooked him on a spit and each got a whole ham and shoulder, kinda like eating a whole chicken but not as big. Uncle wasn't about to waste pork on coyotes and I'll never forget that pig!

We had a member on another forum that I frequent that lived in England. He was a teenager but a very smart, articulate type young man. He was addicted to traditional archery, but bowhunting is illegal in England (considered to be cruel), so he was always talking about coming to Texas and hunting whitetail. After a couple years of him being a forum regular, the mods got together and we conducted a secret fundraiser for him. With a couple of pretty generous donations from our sponsors and a lot of generosity from the members, we were able to fly him over here from England and pay for him to hunt down on very nice place in Burnett. My buddy Chongo and I picked him up from the airport and took him straight to Bass Pro Shops in Grapevine, fed him a buffalo steak, and then took him to the gun counter. The guys working the counter that night were as nice as they could be, and since he had never even touched a handgun before, they stood there and let him see just about every gun in the case. His head was spinning by the time we set out for the ranch. A bunch of the other members from the forum flew into Austin and we had a big time down there, and the kid got a pig. It was a life changing trip for him, and I was thrilled to be a part of it. I also shot my first pig with a traditional bow that weekend, and our camp cook whipped up some of the best food I've ever eaten in my life. Stuffed french toast, dutch oven peach cobbler, enormous stacks of pancakes. It was just a heckuva time...

My last hunt with my grandpa. I pulled the trigger just to have a deer on the ground for him to eyeball

Someone should put this stuff in a book
That rat story cracked me up.

Here's one of mine,
My youngest daughter was 10 and really wanted to hunt like her big sister. After staying late on opening morning and not a doe to be seen one came out about 60 yards past the 100 yard feeder. I told her try for a neck shot with her 223. She shot, the doe just stood there. I told her to take another shot but she seemed a bit upset, so I loaded another bullet for her. I watched as she looked through the scope and lined up the doe. She pulled her head away from the scope and watched down range while she pulled the trigger. The doe dropped where it stood. Surprised the crap out of me.
During the long walk to the fresh kill with a bit flustered young hunter, I stopped to look and she had teary eyes. She had been hit by the scope on her first shot and was starting to form a bruise around her eye. She was the prettiest girl you ever saw in your life, holding that doe by the ears and smiling for a picture like she had shot the biggest deer in the world, with a bruise all the way around her eye.
She hit a hog at 440 yards last year; I still think her first kill was the greatest shot I ever saw.

I have had many memorable hunts with my boys , but one that always comes to mind is a dove hunt with my little man dale. He was always by my side back then he didn't let dad go anywhere without him.

One weekend me some of my friends and my little man packed up to go dove hunting he was three. Normally he would just hang out by me and help retrieve a bird or two, but this year he got his first gun , a little daisy one cocker, so he was in full on hunt mode.

Me and the guys had the time of our lives that day . Every time the birds came in we would shoot and he would shoot the bird would hit the ground and we would tell him he dropped another one. He would get so excited each time one hit the ground , he would run in circles, do the fist pump , and throw up high fives to everyone. At the end of the morning we all pretty much had our limit so we were headed to the truck. We were talking about how cool it would be if he actually hit one. As we got to the truck one loner dove flew over and my friend took a shot at it ,it immediately dove down and landed in a mesquite about ten foot from dale he pulled his little daisy up and by some crazy stroke of luck he nailed it dropped it to the ground.

We were all going crazy, giving high fives, doing our dead dove down dance ,three years old and dropped his first dove.

We counted the birds when we got to the truck we had fourty three all shot by my little marksman , as far as he new, because us old guys couldn't get to em fast enough.

Since then my little man has grown up. He doesn't get to hang out with dad as much as dad would like. He joined the Air Force last year and god willing he will be accepted to the Air Force academy soon. Got to see him over the holidays and he told me he can't wait to get to Colorado so he can bring me up and take me hunting.

Hunting with Uncle Don. He had has his leg amputated two springs before and had diabetes for a while. His regular hunting buddies said they would take him but never did. They didn't want the responsibility if something happened. I went and bought a pop up blind and wheeled him out to where I had a hanging stand and threw it over his wheelchair. I climed up in my stand and did a little rattling and calling then sat quiet. Next I hear the sound of a soda can open, next I heard the sound of a can of sardines open, finally i hear the crinkle of a package of crackers and the crunch and the gulps started. I stayed put and about 5 hrs all the while hearing sounds from this pop up. Uncle Don finally asked "ok you ready?". "Yep". I climbed down and told politely told him "I don't think you're going to see anything that way." He said "I didn't come out here to hunt, you'd have to clean it. I came out here to get the hell away from your aunt. She's driving me nuts." He then said "If you really wanted to hunt I could have waited in the truck and remember if something happens to me out here just roll me in the creek. I don't want that women trying to revive me." I couldn't help but just bust out laughing. I had to call my dad and tell him what his brother said. All my dad said was "Yep"

I was hunting in the Hill COuntry a couple of years ago at our family place. I usually sit in the same blind the entire year and was sitting alone on the Sunday before Thanksgiving on Thursday. Usually after the Sunday morning hunt we all load up and go home, so I was sort of dreading the ride home and leaving the deer lease. I noticed a doe in the brush about 500 yards away and pulled up my binoculars to get a clearer look. Following that doe was a buck of proportions I had never seen in the Hill Country. I watched the buck chase the doe all over the mesquite flat and then he chased her closer to my blind, but still out there a ways at about 250 yards. I was shooting my 22-250 at the time, but wanted something with a little more knockdown power, as our place is only 450 acres and I did not want the buck to jump the fence after shooting him. I made the decision to leave him alone and wait until next weekend to try to get him.
The next week was a long one. I mounted a better scope on my .270 and took it out and tried to sight it in. The scope would never zero in, so I put another scope on the .270 and finally got it to where it was dead on at 100 yards. All of the formalities of Thanksgiving and work that week were merely distactions in the way of me reaching my goal, shooting that buck. Finally and me and my daughter left for the deer lease on Thursday night after Thanksgiving dinner.
We arrived at the lease and hurriedly went to the feeder closest to the place where I had seen the deer and got the chip out of the camera. We hurried back to the house and looked at the pictures on the chip. It showed that the buck had been coming to the feeder almost every morning since last Sunday and he was definitely a shooter. I did not sleep much on Thursday night after seeing pictures of the buck.
Finally morning arrived and my daughter and I made our way to the blind. We got all set up and took our usual 30 minute nap before the sun comes up. At daylight the feeder went off and an assortment of small bucks and does arrived to feed on the corn. We watched the deer with much anticipation, but as time passed, our hopes dimmed. About 8:30 there was a decent buck at the feeder that raised his head , turned and left all in one motion. The next thing I can remember is my daughter saying, "There he is." And it was him. I tried to not look at the horns, but had to to verify that it was the big buck I had seen the week before. Once I reached the conclusion that it was HIM, I eased my .270 out the window of the blind and told my daughter to watch where he went. Her fingers went up to her ears right before the shot rang out. The buck went down and kicked a couple of times and then there was the slow last kick that always makes me sad because I know I have taken the life of such a beautiful creature, but happy because I have taken the life of such a beautiful creature. We sat there saying nothing, but sharing the moment.
After about 15 hard to control myself minutes, we climbed down and slowly walked to the buck. He had 12 points and my daughter took numnerous pictures to commemorate the hunt. The buck ended up scoring 147 5/8, which is a great buck for a low fenced Hill Country deer. I still get a big kick out of looking at that deer above the fireplace at my house and I am glad my daughter was with me to share the experience.

In October of '97 my dad died. In October of '98 my grandfather died. These two men were my hunting buddies. I hunted with them my whole life. After they passed I lost most desire to hunt. I was lost.

In 2003 a buddy invited me to his lease in Live Oak Co, just out of George West. It was hard hunt and didn't see a lot of deer. In the waning moments of the final evening hunt the buck pictured above wandered into view. He was the best buck I'd taken since before losing dad and grandpa. It was exciting and emotional. It re-ignited my desire to hunt again. Not a giant and nowhere near my personal best, but very significant, none the less.

Any hunt with my dadgum heathens, they make it interesting everytime.

I have several but I'll tell a short one. My wife is from the Texas panhandle, Floyd county. I have spent decades filling my freezer up there. Pheasants, rabbits, waterfowl, quail, deer and so on. My son Aaron lived to follow along but freezing temps, long walks etc were rough on a 4 year old. But he was tough. He got the bb gun, the pellet gun, the 410 and finally when he was about 9 he had a youth model single shot 20 guage. I knew where some sandhill cranes were roosting and we took off to hide and see if we could pass shoot one on their way to roost. I let him out and told him to hide in the ditch and if he got a shot to lead the heck out of him. I went on down a few hundred yards and parked then walked on down a ways. Light faded and then I heard some cranes coming. They never got close to me but just at last light I heard Aaron, my boy, fire his single shot. I really didn't think much of it, those are giant birds, hard to kill with 12 gauge TTT. But I figured he had enjoyed just getting out like I had. I walked back to the truck and looked up his way. My heart swelled with pride when I saw his silhouette coming down that dirt road with a bird as big as he was. He was the hero. We hugged, high fived, took pics and took him to the house where his grandparents, aunts and uncles, mom and cousins got to hear the story. He's 30 now, a seasoned hunter, and we have many stories, but we both can still recall how special that one was.