Caribou Gear Tarp

The Good 'Ol Days

kansasdad- Those are some amazing pictures. That is one heck of an upbringing your had. WOW.
 
On several trips we would go into abandoned homesteads. The Maasai keep their cattle in a thorn enclosure at night, keeping them safe(r) from predators. The pastoralists move when the surrounding area has been grazed down, firewood becomes scarce, or as I can testify, the flea population rises to unbearable levels. 168 flea bites on my back.


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Great pics in this thread!

Blacktails on our ranch 1966:



My sons first buck Gallatin County 1991:



Elk rodeo 1991:

 
I've posted this on other threads but here it is again! My grandpas deer from Montana from sometime in the 70's. Eating his lunch on a log and this ol boy ran by with a group of does.
 

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Thank for for his and your service

Semper Fi to your father and to all my other brother's and sister's in arms. You fight for all of us and we owe all of them a debt of gratitude. Whether said or not, you all are in our hearts. I know the spouses who remain at home go through a tremendous amount when we're gone. Without them, we could not do our job.

God Bless You My Friend,
 
Great Grandpa 1945 buck

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Here is my great Grandpa Ross Meek in 1945. He lived in Indiana but had to travel to Michigan to hunt whitetail deer because there weren't any around here back then. He was the only person in our family to shoot a big game animal until 44 years later when I killed my whitetail doe. Him, his sons, and my uncles hunted small game all the time. I have plenty of old pictures of all sorts of critters the would hunt. Not sure who the other fellas in the picture are, would love to know. Unfortunately my grandma is probably the only one that might have but she has dementia and doesn't even know who I am anymore.
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I have the mount and the tag is still attached to the rack.
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As a new member i scroll through all the topics looking to see where to start. When this one came up i didn't hesitate and am glad for it! This is an awesome thread, even if some of you have pics as a baby when i was in my late teens.

🍻
 
This is a terrible picture of my Dad and I with a couple of Columbia blacktail bucks (my first). I was 18 yrs old, about 6 weeks before I went in the service.
 

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Randy, what did you shoot your first deer with?



I may have already posted this, but this is the "Good Ol Days for me".

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I love looking at old hunting photos, especially the ones with critters strewn across jeep hoods, haha. But what I don't understand is how they killed all those animals without all the latest new camo gear?
 
What’s mainly wrong with society today is that too many Dirt Roads have been paved.


There’s not a problem in America today - crime, drugs, education, divorce, delinquency - that wouldn’t be remedied, if we just had more Dirt Roads, because Dirt Roads give character.


People that live at the end of Dirt Roads learn early on that life is a bumpy ride.


That it can jar you right down to your teeth sometimes, but it’s worth it, if at the end is home…a loving spouse, happy kids and a dog.


autumn-dirt-road1.jpg?resize=300%2C222&s We wouldn’t have near the trouble with our educational system if our kids got their exercise walking a Dirt Road with other kids, from whom they learn how to get along.


There was less crime in our streets before they were paved.


Criminals didn’t walk two dusty miles to rob or rape, if they knew they’d be welcomed by 5 barking dogs and a double barrel shotgun.


And there were no drive by shootings.


Our values were better when our roads were worse!


People did not worship their cars more than their kids, and motorists were more courteous, they didn’t tailgate by riding the bumper or the guy in front would choke you with dust & bust your windshield with rocks.


Dirt Roads taught patience.


Dirt Roads were environmentally friendly, you didn’t hop in your car for a quart of milk you walked to the barn for your milk.


For your mail, you walked to the mail box.


What if it rained and the Dirt Road got washed out? That was the best part, then you stayed home and had some family time, roasted marshmallows and popped popcorn and pony rode on Daddy’s shoulders and learned how to make prettier quilts than anybody.


At the end of Dirt Roads, you soon learned that bad words tasted like soap.


Most paved roads lead to trouble, Dirt Roads more likely lead to a fishing creek or a swimming hole.


At the end of a Dirt Road, the only time we even locked our car was in August, because if we didn’t some neighbor would fill it with too much zucchini.


At the end of a Dirt Road, there was always extra springtime income, from when city dudes would get stuck, you’d have to hitch up a team and pull them out.


Usually you got a dollar…always you got a new friend…at the end of a Dirt Road!


~by Paul Harvey~
 

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