The good ole days....let's hear some of our funny times

[huntall]

Well the last weekend of season many years ago I saw 2 big coons in top big tree going at. They stayed up there all morning. I had this bright idea that since they could get after it way longer than I ever could that they deserved to die.
When morning hunt ended and my brother and friend come to get me.
I told them my plan...by this time the coons was inside of the hollow tree.
I said all we got to do is smoke um out.

We put leaves in hollow tree and light it up. Smoke started to go up in tree as planned, but we needed more smoke. So we got more leaves and boy it was smoking good. Then all of a sudden smoke stopped so we put more leaves. ..still no smoke. Then we realize the reason no smoke because flames started comeing out hollow knot holes some 40 or 50 ft above ground.

My brother drove back to camp as fast as could to try find a saw and some kinda bucket. He had to act calm so not to look like an ideot to the other members and tip off our situation. Lol

Finally he makes it back with a saw and an empty old gallon mustard jug to dip water. (I know. ..crazy)lol. The tree shooting flames out top of tree when he pulls back up. Good thing is it was like a half acre hump surrounded by swamp. We cut tree down and boy it light up.

Now our 1 jug old mustard jug is now being filled with swamp waster and ran to pore on tree. After about an hour of running the jug back and forth we finally get it out.

By this time it's like 3 in the evening on last day of season and we said the CensoredCensoredCensoredCensored with it we started drinking home brew.

Then we all drunk and one old member wouldn't pay his dues so I hooked winch to his bus and drug it across public road and left it on side of highway.


Dam.....that was fun.


Good ole days.
I'm not in that club no more but my brother said they still talk about it almost every night gathered up around the campfire at the Ole camphouse

 

[tooln]

I was hunting at the BIL's before I had my property, normally I was the only one who hunted it. One time during rifle season it turned out to be a full family thing. There were 9 of us in the woods that day. The gals called it quits early cause they got cold and were making supper. Come time to stop for the day we all ended up at the barn about the same time with the exception of the other BIL's boy, he was 14 at the time. His dad called him on the radio to see where he was and he said he was coming cause he got turned around and was going the wrong way. The were doing small talk on the radio talking about the days hunt. Once he got out of the woods and walking towards the building (300 yards) I decided to have some fun with him. As they were talking about what they had seen during the day I cut in and asked who was talking on the DNR channel. I asked again who this was and the dad (he was in on the joke) said turn off the radio. I said it would be a violation of federal law to do so and that he better say on the channel and answer all my questions. I asked for his name, sex, birthday and age. I asked where he was currently located so a squad could be sent to the location. He said he was at his aunt Gale & uncle Lee's farm & didn't know the address. I said I needed better information and that his a$$ was really getting into trouble now. I asked him how come he was still walking while we were talking and he stopped right in the middle of the field. The poor kid just wasn't catching on. I asked him for his tag number and he started to remove his coat to get it. I told him that if he was talking his orange off the fines would keep going higher, he stopped and put it back on. I kept after him for his tag number & kept telling him not to remove his coat. We were all laughing our A$$'s off. He was out there like a dog chasing his tail trying to read his tag. This whole thing lasted for about 20 minutes. Everyone was laughing so hard he finally heard the laughing over the radio and asked for my name & I said uncle Mike. We still get kicks over this and it happened over 12 years ago.

 

[JackTerp]

Many years ago my BIL and I were going on a little week end fishing trip. We did these a lot of times and use the time to do some scouting in NC PA.

We were about 30 at time and my neighbors boys were about 18. They saw us getting some stuff ready and begged us to let them come along for the trip. We finally said OK. Now these boys were about as city as you can get.

They took off to pack their needed clothes and things while we were getting my truck packed. We always camped in a tent but had a small spare to lend to our new friends. As we were putting food stuffs into our large cooler, the oldest boy showed up and asked what we needed onions for. Now, in reality, we used them when cooking fresh trout but that reasoning wouldn't do. So,,,,, we told them we peeled a couple onions every night and put them around our tent to keep the bears away. He looked at me kinda funny and laughed. I just kept packing.

When we got to Emporium, PA, we stopped to get a bite to eat. The boys said they needed to pick up some sodas and snacks at the store. We waited while they shopped. They had bought every kind of snack you can imagine.

We instructed them on how to set up the tents and my BIL made the first nights meal over a campfire. They ate more food than we normally eat in a whole week-end.

When it got time to hit the sack, my BIL tossed me two onions. I cut them in half and put the pieces around our tent and went to bed.

In the middle of the night, I got up to answer natures call. I shined the little flashlight on their tent and immediately got my BIL up. Our new friends must have peeled 20 pounds of onions and stacked them up against the tent. My BIL could'nt stand it so he went around the back of the tent and started making loud growling noises. It took 15 minutes to round them up and calm them down. Both of them came out of that tent like bullets and headed down the road screaming.

They never would go camping with us after that. They said it was safer in the city. Two weeks later I showed them an article in the local paper about a bear sighted about 1/4 mile from their house just outside Pittsburgh. Asked them if they wanted some onions. They didn't think it was very funny.

 

[JackTerp]

The deer season of 1970 was probably the most wonderful time I have ever spent in the woods.

For those of you not familiar with PA rifle season, it always begins on the Monday following Thanksgiving.
My BIL, John, and I had been planning a camping trip to north central PA for quite a while. Now John would
much rather be fishing than hunting, but it was usually pretty easy to talk him into just going camping. This
year we decided to take his truck. He had a 4 door Silverado with an 8 foot bed on it. He had a real nice cap
on it and we figured we could just throw a couple air mattresses in the back and we’d be set.

We were jawing about the trip during Thanksgiving dinner and my Dad asked if he could come along. Now
Dad was nearing 70 and was still recuperating from having both knees and his one hip replaced. He had
not hunted in a couple years. He loved to stalk through the woods while deer hunting. His legs would not
allow that any more but we had a great place for him so sit and cover one of the better areas not far from
where we would be parked. We also had a really good small tent we could set up for him to sleep in.
He was as excited as I have ever seen him. We told him we would be camping 4 miles from the road on an old logging track that we thought we could get the truck through but he was more than welcome to come along.

We set a time to pick him and his gear up on Saturday morning. We left early on Saturday morning and the drive was a ball. Dad just sat in the back seat and told lie after lie,
(I mean story after story), about the good ole days deer hunting in these mountains. We arrived in Emporium
in time to get a good hot meal at the Cabin Kitchen restaurant. It is still my favorite place in the world for breakfast.

Then we headed out to our camping area. We made a quick stop at an old friends motel to say hi. He and his wifeoffered us a room but we wanted to camp.

It took us almost as long to go the last 8 miles as it took us to go the first 165 miles. That old logging track was a lot
narrower than either John or I remembered. But we got the truck in there with some daylight left and got our
camp set up. Dad was in hog heaven and had a fire and coffee ready before we go the tent set up. It was
beautiful.

Sunday we spent a lot of time just shooting the bull and took Dad to his stand. He loved it. He could cover that whole
bench with his old 38/55 Winchester. The only deer rifle he had ever owned. He hated scopes and was as deadly
as anyone I knew with iron sights.

Now, when you plan a trip like this the one thing you always check and recheck before leaving home is the
weather. We were assured that it was going to be clear and cold for the three days we would be hunting. Cold we
can handle, bad rain or snow in the forecast and we would have camped out at the main cut off and walked in.

Well, we woke up at 4AM to 12 inches of "clear and cold” everywhere. Dad had a fit. We told him not to worry it would
all melt off by Wednesday. ………………LIE.

We finally got dressed, got all our gear and headed out for opening day. We got Dad to his stand, cleared out a spot
for him and he was set. He said he’d yell if he shot anything. I told him not to worry. If he shot anything with that cannon
of his I would know it. There is no rifle in the world that sounds like that old 38,55.

We had agreed to meet at about lunch time. Well, when John and I got to Dad’s stand, no Dad. We followed his tracks
back out to the trail and then to the truck. As we got closer we could hear people talking. As we came into sight, there
is Dad and three other fellas sitting around the campfire drinking coffee and having a good ole time. Dad had gotten
restless and decided to still hunt back towards the truck. He bumped into these three guys on the trail and invited them
in for a cup of coffee. They had pulled all the coolers out of the truck to make seats and were having ball when we
“interrupted’ their party.

Dad spent the rest of the three days right around the truck and kept the fire and the coffee going. We had visitors all
day every day. Dad was in hog heaven. When we came in for lunch, there was a hot meal. Other hunters stopped by all
day and Dad had coffee and soup for all of them.

When Wednesday came around, we packed up and drove through all that snow like it wasn’t even there. We actually
made it out easier than we got in. When we got to our friends motel, half of the guys we met there Dad had already met
on top of the mountain. We didn’t get out of there until almost midnight. They were talking and introducing Dad to their
friends and telling stories about the Old Man’s Rest Stop on top of Roaring Run.

That was the last time my Dad ever went deer hunting. His legs and his health would not allow it any more. But, every time
I hunted on Roaring Run after that, for ten years, I would bump into someone that would ask me about him. Our friend
made Dad a little sign with “Old Man’s Rest Stop” on it. He had that hanging over his kitchen table for years until he
passes away. Now my oldest son has it in his den at home. It was the only thing any of my kids wanted to remember Pap.