# Change - Happy Father's Day



## wyogoob

...................................................................Change.......................................................................

....................................

I pass this spot on my way to deer and elk camp four or five times a year. It is a nondescript place, much like hundreds of miles of streambed in the Wyoming high country. But this little piece of creek holds many special memories, so I watch it closely. I watch it change.

Through the eighties and into the early nineties Dad and I fished that little bend in the creek often, my Border Collie always in tow. With live grasshoppers on fly rods, we hooked trout after trout, giggling like school kids. After cleaning fish we would rest, lying in the grass watching the leaves change from green to gold, the sky so blue it would hurt your eyes. On the grass in the shade we would nap, far removed from it all. Once, after chasing a big bull moose back and forth across the streambed, the collie woke us up, shaking water and mud all over us, grinning from ear to ear.

One time that ole dog had it out with a porcupine down in the willows by our spot. It went poorly for her, and for an hour or so Dad held the Border Collie while I dug quills from lips, gums, and tongue with fishing pliers. The dog did not take it very well. None of us took it very well. Dad struggled to hold her still, while I tried my best to painlessly remove the quills and not miss any. They say porcupine quills work their way into the body as the muscles contract; some even going into the brain. That dog changed some after that encounter, losing a step or two. And I noticed Dad was moving slower as each autumn rolled by. 

Well the trout are no longer there; the stream has changed its course. Dad and the Border Collie left us in ninety-four. The moose is gone; he hangs on my living room wall, a very menacing look on his face.

I'm reminded of how quickly things change when I pass by that place and it won't be long until I will go up there, alone, to do some scouting, a little hanging out&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;some thinking.............I wonder if that ole porcupine is still there?

Happy Father's Day


----------



## Califbowmen

Nicely written. I too have had to let go of many things that I loved. I have special places that I try to visit to keep those memories fresh in my mind. Wishing every Father a very Happy Fathers Day.


----------



## Mavis13

:amen:
Thanks for the post,


----------



## GaryFish

Great post Goob.


----------



## Dunkem

:first: Nice Goob.


----------



## wyogoob

bump


Happy Father's Day fellas.

.


----------



## Dunkem

wyogoob said:


> bump
> 
> Happy Father's Day fellas.
> 
> .


+1:!:


----------



## BuckEyes

Happy Fathers Day! Very well written.


----------



## LostLouisianian

Happy Father's Day to you too. Almost all of my happy memories of my dad and grandpa's involve the outdoors. Remember that you new and young dads. Your kids will cherish those times long after you're gone


----------



## stillhunterman

Thanks goob. I saved that little nugget you wrote back then, to read and ponder upon now and again. I hope you don't mind but would like to post up a little something I too post from time to time, and it's been a while since last done. 

Happy Father's Day fellers!



MY MENTOR

I would guess most of us had a mentor of some sorts who took our hand and walked us through the door leading to the wonderful world of hunting. Mine was my dad. Over the years I have often wondered if he did it to purposefully introduce me to that magical lifestyle or simply to have someone to accompany him, as I know he mostly hunted alone until I could follow along. It really doesn’t matter I guess, the outcome was still the same for me.

My earliest memories are of tromping through the fields chasing doves. I must have been a tender 5 or 6, but I still remember insisting to hold a double he took one morning. I cradled both birds in my small hands, the soft warm feathers filling my fingers with awe and wonder while etching the day and the Hunt deep inside my memory. It was but a hint of a lifestyle to come spanning several decades. I will be forever grateful to Pops for letting me tag along that particular path in life…

We, as hunters, often express our thoughts of what hunting means to us in many ways: To be in the woods with family and friends sharing the bounties and beauty of nature: The telling of stories long passed by others who touched our hunting lives over a crackling campfire the night before the hunt: Witnessing things in the forests and mountains that others couldn’t begin to dream of. Some who don’t hunt would say we could experience the same things with a camera instead of a gun or bow and arrow and not have to kill to do the same thing. I can understand where they might be coming from, but the thing is I don’t believe those folks really comprehend the “entire experience” we as hunters truly do.

Pops taught me at a very early age it would be up to ME to make sure I could continue to enjoy and even come to love the world of hunting. He instilled in me the truth that I must be the steward of my hunting realm, and do all those things necessary to take care of my quarry and their habitat in such a way as to respect and insure their existence. He taught me I HAD to do my part and not simply leave it in the hands of others and hope they would treat this great heritage as I would. Though I only had a few short years with him, I continue to live by his teachings, even though it has been nearly 5 decades.

I have watched the sun rise more times than I can remember, and so many of them have taken my breath away with their utter beauty. But none have been so wondrous as those I have witnessed while hunting. While hunting, dawn is not simply the herald of the morn: it is the herald that pumps the blood, quickens the nerves, and sharpens the eyes of the hunter! It brings with it anticipation of the days hunt, of what will or will not be. Whether there will be life or death by our own hand. Sure, that sounds a bit dramatic, but I think it’s true for the most part. It’s something the bird watcher or photographer simply can’t comprehend. I see the same beauty and animals that they do, but with different eyes…

One of my favorite times in the woods while hunting is what I call the “magic hour of silence”. First time I remember it was on a deer hunt with Pops, I must have been about 13 or 14. It always happens late morning, and always when I have stopped to rest, or to just simply take in my surroundings. I don’t know whether I am the cause, or if this magical time causes me to stop and take notice. The air becomes still and full, not so much as a leaf moves. One by one, the birds are silenced; the chipmunks and squirrels freeze like statues. The light seems to float on the air, misting through the trees like an apparition. My ears prick for the slightest sound but none comes. The silence is almost overwhelming. My eyes scan all around me but nothing moves. I can hear the soft rhythm of my heartbeat, and I too become as the forest, frozen and unyielding.

As quickly as it came, it departs with the first rustle of leaves; a soft breeze against my face; the chirp of a bird. The light becomes focused and true. I always smile when I stand and continue my hunt, knowing I have witnessed something special once again.

Thanks Pops, for showing me the way of the hunter…


----------



## bowgy

Thanks Goob, that was great.

For Fathers day I took my 91 year old dad up the mountains for a 3-1/2 hour drive, I took him up his favorite canyon, Second Left Hand up Parowan canyon, that is one rough ride in a F350 with a lift kit.

Drove to the top and through beautiful Sidney Valley then we hit the Red Desert Road and I took him to one of the first places that I remember camping and fishing with him. The place is Dead Lake, and your post about how things change really impressed me because I had the same thoughts on Fathers day.

As I stood with my dad under the same large ponderosa pine tree that we camped under for my first time about 50 years ago, I stood there very happy and sad at the same time. Happy with the memories of my first time there with my dad and sad thinking at a frail 91 years old it might be my last time there with him. I remember that Highway 143 from Cedar Breaks to Panguitch Lake was just a rough dirt road in our 1962 red International 2 wheel drive pickup. I remember sleeping in the back of that pickup looking up at the stars through the limbs of that large Ponderosa Pine, I remember feeling like I was at the top of the world with my dad.

As I stood there reminiscing with my dad my love I have for him was overwhelming and all the thoughts of the many, many times we went camping and hunting and fishing throughout the years and the love of the outdoors that he instilled in me was a beautiful thing.

Then I wondered if my grandkids that I took camping at the same place lst summer would have some of the same memories in the years to come.

And again your thoughts on change, the old rough dirt road is now a nice wide highway, the 62 2 wheel drive is now a F350 4x4 crew cab, the lake is blocked by a gate so you can't drive to the old Ponderosa pine, the lake is about a 100 yard hike, but the memories are strong and standing there with my dad was awesome, a great Fathers Day for me and my dad.


----------



## wyogoob

bowgy said:


> Thanks Goob, that was great.
> 
> For Fathers day I took my 91 year old dad up the mountains for a 3-1/2 hour drive, I took him up his favorite canyon, Second Left Hand up Parowan canyon, that is one rough ride in a F350 with a lift kit.
> 
> Drove to the top and through beautiful Sidney Valley then we hit the Red Desert Road and I took him to one of the first places that I remember camping and fishing with him. The place is Dead Lake, and your post about how things change really impressed me because I had the same thoughts on Fathers day.
> 
> As I stood with my dad under the same large ponderosa pine tree that we camped under for my first time about 50 years ago, I stood there very happy and sad at the same time. Happy with the memories of my first time there with my dad and sad thinking at a frail 91 years old it might be my last time there with him. I remember that Highway 143 from Cedar Breaks to Panguitch Lake was just a rough dirt road in our 1962 red International 2 wheel drive pickup. I remember sleeping in the back of that pickup looking up at the stars through the limbs of that large Ponderosa Pine, I remember feeling like I was at the top of the world with my dad.
> 
> As I stood there reminiscing with my dad my love I have for him was overwhelming and all the thoughts of the many, many times we went camping and hunting and fishing throughout the years and the love of the outdoors that he instilled in me was a beautiful thing.
> 
> Then I wondered if my grandkids that I took camping at the same place lst summer would have some of the same memories in the years to come.
> 
> And again your thoughts on change, the old rough dirt road is now a nice wide highway, the 62 2 wheel drive is now a F350 4x4 crew cab, the lake is blocked by a gate so you can't drive to the old Ponderosa pine, the lake is about a 100 yard hike, but the memories are strong and standing there with my dad was awesome, a great Fathers Day for me and my dad.


What a cool story. Thanks for sharing.

.


----------



## wyogoob

stillhunterman said:


> Thanks goob. I saved that little nugget you wrote back then, to read and ponder upon now and again. I hope you don't mind but would like to post up a little something I too post from time to time, and it's been a while since last done.
> 
> Happy Father's Day fellers!
> 
> MY MENTOR
> 
> I would guess most of us had a mentor of some sorts who took our hand and walked us through the door leading to the wonderful world of hunting. Mine was my dad. Over the years I have often wondered if he did it to purposefully introduce me to that magical lifestyle or simply to have someone to accompany him, as I know he mostly hunted alone until I could follow along. It really doesn't matter I guess, the outcome was still the same for me.
> 
> My earliest memories are of tromping through the fields chasing doves. I must have been a tender 5 or 6, but I still remember insisting to hold a double he took one morning. I cradled both birds in my small hands, the soft warm feathers filling my fingers with awe and wonder while etching the day and the Hunt deep inside my memory. It was but a hint of a lifestyle to come spanning several decades. I will be forever grateful to Pops for letting me tag along that particular path in life&#8230;
> 
> We, as hunters, often express our thoughts of what hunting means to us in many ways: To be in the woods with family and friends sharing the bounties and beauty of nature: The telling of stories long passed by others who touched our hunting lives over a crackling campfire the night before the hunt: Witnessing things in the forests and mountains that others couldn't begin to dream of. Some who don't hunt would say we could experience the same things with a camera instead of a gun or bow and arrow and not have to kill to do the same thing. I can understand where they might be coming from, but the thing is I don't believe those folks really comprehend the "entire experience" we as hunters truly do.
> 
> Pops taught me at a very early age it would be up to ME to make sure I could continue to enjoy and even come to love the world of hunting. He instilled in me the truth that I must be the steward of my hunting realm, and do all those things necessary to take care of my quarry and their habitat in such a way as to respect and insure their existence. He taught me I HAD to do my part and not simply leave it in the hands of others and hope they would treat this great heritage as I would. Though I only had a few short years with him, I continue to live by his teachings, even though it has been nearly 5 decades.
> 
> I have watched the sun rise more times than I can remember, and so many of them have taken my breath away with their utter beauty. But none have been so wondrous as those I have witnessed while hunting. While hunting, dawn is not simply the herald of the morn: it is the herald that pumps the blood, quickens the nerves, and sharpens the eyes of the hunter! It brings with it anticipation of the days hunt, of what will or will not be. Whether there will be life or death by our own hand. Sure, that sounds a bit dramatic, but I think it's true for the most part. It's something the bird watcher or photographer simply can't comprehend. I see the same beauty and animals that they do, but with different eyes&#8230;
> 
> One of my favorite times in the woods while hunting is what I call the "magic hour of silence". First time I remember it was on a deer hunt with Pops, I must have been about 13 or 14. It always happens late morning, and always when I have stopped to rest, or to just simply take in my surroundings. I don't know whether I am the cause, or if this magical time causes me to stop and take notice. The air becomes still and full, not so much as a leaf moves. One by one, the birds are silenced; the chipmunks and squirrels freeze like statues. The light seems to float on the air, misting through the trees like an apparition. My ears prick for the slightest sound but none comes. The silence is almost overwhelming. My eyes scan all around me but nothing moves. I can hear the soft rhythm of my heartbeat, and I too become as the forest, frozen and unyielding.
> 
> As quickly as it came, it departs with the first rustle of leaves; a soft breeze against my face; the chirp of a bird. The light becomes focused and true. I always smile when I stand and continue my hunt, knowing I have witnessed something special once again.
> 
> Thanks Pops, for showing me the way of the hunter&#8230;


Well done Perry, well done.

.


----------



## OldEphraim

Great thread! Thank you all for sharing your stories.


----------



## wyogoob

bump


----------



## Idratherbehunting

I too have such a father. And I sure am lucky to have the man I do as a father. Thanks for bumping this thread again Goob.


----------



## Dunkem

Always brings a tear and a smile. My pop is long gone, but memories are fresh. Just a month ago I made amends with my firstborn son whom I had not seen or talked to in 20 years. What a fool I was to wait so long. Spent a week in Tennessee with him and his wife and my 3 newly found granddaughters.


Happy Fathers Day guys!!


----------



## bowgy

Thanks for bumping this. I have to take my dad almost everywhere he goes, he turned 92 last month and I got sent this pic and it made me think of my dad. He spent time in France, Belgium and Germany during WWII and always wears his WWII Vet hat.


----------



## 2full

I did not get the chance to hang out with my Father much growing up. He always worked a whole lot, and then had his church jobs when he was home. I can count on about 3 fingers the times I got to fish with him. and, count on 2 fingers the times I got to hunt with him. I learned to love the hills, fishing, hunting, etc with good friends and some of their dads. Dad and I were not close growing up at all. He was and is a good man, just was always so busy.
It breaks me up a bit to hear of your good stories. Dad and I are good friends now, and enjoy each other. But, I do wish it could have been different......... 

I vowed back then that I would NOT do that to my children.

So as I grew up and started my family I made sure to include my 3 girls. I gave them the total choice with no presssure. They all caught fish, hunted deer, a couple hunted turkeys. Camped with me. The 4 wheelers were the best family toys I ever bought. They also danced, cheered, played sports, etc. I spent a lot of time on cold and hard benches. Would not trade it.
Now they are married and have their own families, and they like to bring the grandkids to hang out with us on the mountain. A couple of the older boys are starting to hunt now. Sometimes just spending the time with them and watching them run around I think about all the years and mist up a bit. Am looking forward to the "golden years". 
Pretty soon I'll just be hanging on the deck waiting for them to come back and tell me their hunting stories. 

Happy Fathers Day to all.


----------



## wyogoob

bump

.


----------



## stillhunterman

Change is the brother of time, and neither waits for man, dog...or porcupine. Good bump goob, thanks. Happy Fathers day fellers...


----------



## bowgy

bowgy said:


> Thanks for bumping this. I have to take my dad almost everywhere he goes, he turned 92 last month and I got sent this pic and it made me think of my dad. He spent time in France, Belgium and Germany during WWII and always wears his WWII Vet hat.


Another WWII Vet gone, Dad passed away on the 2 and his funeral was last Saturday.


----------



## stillhunterman

bowgy said:


> Another WWII Vet gone, Dad passed away on the 2 and his funeral was last Saturday.


Most profound condolences bowguy...


----------



## 3arabians

My condolences also bowgy. 

Sounds like he was a tuff old bird. May we all live lives as long as his. 

It appears to me he raised a real good man in yourself. 

Sent from my SAMSUNG-SM-G891A using Tapatalk


----------



## LostLouisianian

Condolences Bowgy. They truly were "the greatest generation". Most of them are together again now in heaven


----------



## wyogoob

bump


A bit of advice:
Never pass up an opportunity to tell your dad how much you care for him.


Happy Father's Day fellas.


.


----------



## 2full

Great advice Wyogoob.
My dad has really gone down hill the last year. 
He and my step mom got in a wreck going thru Beaver last October in a rain storm. 
Totaled his Caddy. He was pissed. The highway patrolman kept saying they should not be alive. 
Broke his sternum and cracked his back, which was already a mess from the 3 times he has had back surgery in his life. 
Now he struggles to breath and can't hardly walk. 
He is 84 now. Hard to watch him slow down. He was 6'3" and 220 for years. Did NOT mess with him. 
We talk 2 or 3 times a week. I'm trying to get him to tell me "the stories" 
He did buy another caddy, even if he can't drive it......

I'm going to make the most of this time.


----------



## CPAjeff

This is one of my favorite threads on the entire forum, as it stirs memories of my father and our time spent together. 

Growing up, my dad was my hero. He was the one that would come home from work, grab his mit and play catch or shoot some hoops. He took me, and my brothers, on various hunting, fishing, and camping trips. He never missed a basketball game or baseball tournament and he hauled me all over the Western United States when I competed in team roping events. 

As my career has progressed, the miles between us have increased and we don’t get together as much as we used to. But, as a father myself now, my adoration and respect for my own father has increased exponentially. In four days, I get the opportunity to spend a day fishing with him on a little stream in the Unitas, just like we have done annually for nearly the last 25 years.

Happy Fathers Day to all you fathers out there!


----------



## bowgy

My daughter dedicated this to me on her facebook page


----------



## CPAjeff

bowgy - sounds like you were/are a great father!


----------



## wyogoob

Bump


Happy Father's Day!!


----------



## Vanilla

A big Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there. This is a role that I think society has tried to diminish, but there truly is no other role more important than that of a father. (Equally important to the role of a mother.)


----------



## pollo70

Thanks for sharing Goob! the story took me back in time! to some good ole memories


----------



## wyogoob

wyogoob said:


> ...................................................................Change.......................................................................
> 
> ....................................
> 
> I pass this spot on my way to deer and elk camp four or five times a year. It is a nondescript place, much like hundreds of miles of streambed in the Wyoming high country. But this little piece of creek holds many special memories, so I watch it closely. I watch it change.
> 
> Through the eighties and into the early nineties Dad and I fished that little bend in the creek often, my Border Collie always in tow. With live grasshoppers on fly rods, we hooked trout after trout, giggling like school kids. After cleaning fish we would rest, lying in the grass watching the leaves change from green to gold, the sky so blue it would hurt your eyes. On the grass in the shade we would nap, far removed from it all. Once, after chasing a big bull moose back and forth across the streambed, the collie woke us up, shaking water and mud all over us, grinning from ear to ear.
> 
> One time that ole dog had it out with a porcupine down in the willows by our spot. It went poorly for her, and for an hour or so Dad held the Border Collie while I dug quills from lips, gums, and tongue with fishing pliers. The dog did not take it very well. None of us took it very well. Dad struggled to hold her still, while I tried my best to painlessly remove the quills and not miss any. They say porcupine quills work their way into the body as the muscles contract; some even going into the brain. That dog changed some after that encounter, losing a step or two. And I noticed Dad was moving slower as each autumn rolled by.
> 
> Well the trout are no longer there; the stream has changed its course. Dad and the Border Collie left us in ninety-four. The moose is gone; he hangs on my living room wall, a very menacing look on his face.
> 
> I'm reminded of how quickly things change when I pass by that place and it won't be long until I will go up there, alone, to do some scouting, a little hanging out&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;some thinking.............I wonder if that ole porcupine is still there?
> 
> Happy Father's Day


Bump

Happy Father's Day fellas.

.


----------



## 2full

Dang u Wyogoob.......u mist me up every year when u bump this. 
But I'm sure glad u do. :mrgreen:

I took dad up to Milt's the other nite for dinner. He always loved that place. 
He's 86 now and on oxygen, and has to use the walker. 
It was a test to get Him down the stairs to the dining room and back up. 
But it was well worth it. He really enjoyed it. 

Happy Father's day to all. 

By the way...... if you haven't ever been to Milt's Stage Stop up Cedar canyon, you need to go once in your life. Good food, good atmosphere, and good people.


----------

