Mustangs Rule
Well-known member
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2021
- Messages
- 699
Men I knew who hunted their entire life with just one rifle.
Somewhere I have a box filled with old “American Hunter” magazines. They are so old, they are about hunting not politics.
In one, there is an article written by Ed Park. He was a “quiet” great hunting writer from a time gone by. He and I had some fine phone conversations before he died. Since he preceded the internet, and never wrote for one big magazine, sadly most of his excellent hunting stories are lost forever.
Ed and a friend drove a VW camper bus, with a huge canoe on top, up through Canada to the Yukon River. There they loaded the canoe, paid some Canadian Native to drive his VW someplace way down river, and he and his friend went on a moose hunt.
They both took moose and towed the meat back behind their canoe in a rubber raft they brought along for just that purpose.
He used his Remington Model 722 in 30-06 which he bought upon returning from the Korean War.
The entire summer after he bought it, he camped on Kodiak Island to, clear his head, after the war.
It was the only big game rifle he ever owned.
My Uncle Walter was too young for WW2. His two older brothers were not. They were both already Catholic Priests. They each served as Combat Chaplains in the European Theater. They talked it over and brought him back an 8 x 57 German Mauser and paid to have it turned into a fine sporting hunting rifle.
It was "almost only rifle, he owned and hunted with his entire life. When young he bought a big chunk of wild land next to a large state forest. The number of eastern white tail deer he took with that rifle there cannot be counted.
Towards the end of his hunting life, his grand kids bought him a Winchester model 70 in .308. He use it on one hunt with them to make them happy. Then when they went off to college he went right back to his Mauser given to him by his brothers.
My dear friend Malcolm died so very long ago. He was too young for WW1. The returning WW1 vets saw a continent almost without wild life. Those vets were the ones that came up with the idea for the Pittman Robertson Federal Aid to Wildlife Act. Malcolm worked with them for decades to promote the landmark legislation.
For his effort, that chapter of WW1 vets gave him a custom Springfield rifle with a rock maple stock and a 4X Lyman All American scope. He took all North American big game animals with it. Never had another big game rifle, never wanted one.
Some years back, I was hunting Inyo Mule deer in the White Mountains right on the Nevada border.
The Inyo Mule deer are very stocky and inhabit rocky country fit for Big Horn Sheep. Driving in I saw the most wretched rotted banged up horse trailer with a funky mini corral containing two of the most ornery looking mustangs I ever saw. Nearby was an equally ornery 4x4 with a camper on top. The hunter who came out looked like a Bristle Cone Pine, the oldest living individual organism on the planet.
His only ever rife was a beastly looking Remington 788 in .308.
For quite a few years I hunted elk on a three generation private ranch in central Utah. Hunting was only allowed in the morning so the elk could graze all afternoon undisturbed.
It was a real great place, so many elk, so peaceful. $500 for my cow or spike elk tag, the entire ranch undistributed for a week, plus my friend and I had the bunkhouse to ourselves. No food was provided, but there was lots of firewood. These were midwinter hunts and it got way below zero.
Most of the family stayed in town but came out every few days to say hello. “Pops" came out one day to say hello. He liked to chat with the hunters. He was the family elder who carved this ranch out of the desert wilderness.
He liked to look at the elk taken and see what rifles fellows were using “Nowadays”
He smiled big when he saw mine. The family gun safe was right there in the bunk house which attached to their old ranch house.
He brought out his rifle, his only ever rifle and laid it on the table next to mine. Mine and his were almost identical. Both standard weight early production run pre 64 Model 70’s in .270 Winchester.
Both with simple 4x fixed scopes. He damn near giggled in delight looking at them together.
His wife had brought a few totally home made deep dish apple pies from town. He asked her to bring one over for us to eat. We did as “Pops” began pointing out all the deer and elk that were mounted on the bunkhouse walls,,,all of which he had taken with his one and only gun. He did not even own a shotgun or a handgun.
The next year when I returned for another cow/spike elk hunt “Pops” had died. Not long after I saw him and listened to his great stories while looking at his rifle and mine together on that long bunkhouse table.
Since then family members had done a lot of hunting as was the norm. What was different, was that the whole family, all of them were now taking turns, hunting with only one rifle, the .270 Model 70 that was the only rifle “Pops” ever wanted to have.
MR
Somewhere I have a box filled with old “American Hunter” magazines. They are so old, they are about hunting not politics.
In one, there is an article written by Ed Park. He was a “quiet” great hunting writer from a time gone by. He and I had some fine phone conversations before he died. Since he preceded the internet, and never wrote for one big magazine, sadly most of his excellent hunting stories are lost forever.
Ed and a friend drove a VW camper bus, with a huge canoe on top, up through Canada to the Yukon River. There they loaded the canoe, paid some Canadian Native to drive his VW someplace way down river, and he and his friend went on a moose hunt.
They both took moose and towed the meat back behind their canoe in a rubber raft they brought along for just that purpose.
He used his Remington Model 722 in 30-06 which he bought upon returning from the Korean War.
The entire summer after he bought it, he camped on Kodiak Island to, clear his head, after the war.
It was the only big game rifle he ever owned.
My Uncle Walter was too young for WW2. His two older brothers were not. They were both already Catholic Priests. They each served as Combat Chaplains in the European Theater. They talked it over and brought him back an 8 x 57 German Mauser and paid to have it turned into a fine sporting hunting rifle.
It was "almost only rifle, he owned and hunted with his entire life. When young he bought a big chunk of wild land next to a large state forest. The number of eastern white tail deer he took with that rifle there cannot be counted.
Towards the end of his hunting life, his grand kids bought him a Winchester model 70 in .308. He use it on one hunt with them to make them happy. Then when they went off to college he went right back to his Mauser given to him by his brothers.
My dear friend Malcolm died so very long ago. He was too young for WW1. The returning WW1 vets saw a continent almost without wild life. Those vets were the ones that came up with the idea for the Pittman Robertson Federal Aid to Wildlife Act. Malcolm worked with them for decades to promote the landmark legislation.
For his effort, that chapter of WW1 vets gave him a custom Springfield rifle with a rock maple stock and a 4X Lyman All American scope. He took all North American big game animals with it. Never had another big game rifle, never wanted one.
Some years back, I was hunting Inyo Mule deer in the White Mountains right on the Nevada border.
The Inyo Mule deer are very stocky and inhabit rocky country fit for Big Horn Sheep. Driving in I saw the most wretched rotted banged up horse trailer with a funky mini corral containing two of the most ornery looking mustangs I ever saw. Nearby was an equally ornery 4x4 with a camper on top. The hunter who came out looked like a Bristle Cone Pine, the oldest living individual organism on the planet.
His only ever rife was a beastly looking Remington 788 in .308.
For quite a few years I hunted elk on a three generation private ranch in central Utah. Hunting was only allowed in the morning so the elk could graze all afternoon undisturbed.
It was a real great place, so many elk, so peaceful. $500 for my cow or spike elk tag, the entire ranch undistributed for a week, plus my friend and I had the bunkhouse to ourselves. No food was provided, but there was lots of firewood. These were midwinter hunts and it got way below zero.
Most of the family stayed in town but came out every few days to say hello. “Pops" came out one day to say hello. He liked to chat with the hunters. He was the family elder who carved this ranch out of the desert wilderness.
He liked to look at the elk taken and see what rifles fellows were using “Nowadays”
He smiled big when he saw mine. The family gun safe was right there in the bunk house which attached to their old ranch house.
He brought out his rifle, his only ever rifle and laid it on the table next to mine. Mine and his were almost identical. Both standard weight early production run pre 64 Model 70’s in .270 Winchester.
Both with simple 4x fixed scopes. He damn near giggled in delight looking at them together.
His wife had brought a few totally home made deep dish apple pies from town. He asked her to bring one over for us to eat. We did as “Pops” began pointing out all the deer and elk that were mounted on the bunkhouse walls,,,all of which he had taken with his one and only gun. He did not even own a shotgun or a handgun.
The next year when I returned for another cow/spike elk hunt “Pops” had died. Not long after I saw him and listened to his great stories while looking at his rifle and mine together on that long bunkhouse table.
Since then family members had done a lot of hunting as was the norm. What was different, was that the whole family, all of them were now taking turns, hunting with only one rifle, the .270 Model 70 that was the only rifle “Pops” ever wanted to have.
MR