Yeah... We used to all my dad "Slim" until he lost a lot of weight. Between having both shoulders rebuilt, a knee replacement, a four-way by-pass etc etc etc we were tempted to change his nickname to "Timex". (Takes a lickin and keeps on tickin.) Dad outlived all his siblings by many years and had recently celebrated his 88th B-day.
Another thing about him was that had had worked for the phone company in the back country of San Diego County for many years and knew every farmer from Mt. Laguna to Warner Springs that had a bass pond and managed to get us permission to fish the majority of them.
I hear you. My dad was a lineman in Mobile County, Alabama until Pearl Harbor when he volunteered. But later as we moved from place to place with the Air Force, he always found us places to go dove, quail, and pheasant hunting. Dad just seemed to be able to stop at a place and get permission. We went deer hunting too, but Dad seemed to like bird hunting better than deer.
He grew up on a farm, butchered hogs mostly and some cows, so it wasn't that part of it. I think he just loved being out in the woods and preferred moving to sitting in a deer stand. Come to think of it, while we did duck hunt, he liked quail and pheasant hunting more than dove or ducks. Like I said, I think he like moving in the outdoors, not just sitting. Probably why we didn't fish much from a boat, though Granddad loved to do that.
Thanks for the memories. I hadn't really thought about why we hunted what we hunted until right now.
GoldenIrishman, the pain eases with time but the sense of loss only slightly. However, times like this, thinking about my Dad as I sympathize with you and the lost of yours, is a good thing. And if we can encourage you, all the better.
