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brock ratcliff

Dignitary Member
Supporting Member
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I won't call this a classic, but it's a tale...

In August of 1985 I went to spend a month with a friend of mine in Oscoda Michigan. His name was Amos, and along with his wife, we fished all over Ohio and parts of Ontario together. Amos was a world-class outdoorsman, he loved to hunt too, every critter I could imagine was tucked away somewhere in his large house in a life-like pose as he was an amateur taxidermist as well. Amos taught me how to turkey hunt before I was old enough to go, really. He was one of the very first to actually kill a turkey in Ohio once the flock had been re-established and a modern season started. He and my dad had gone on a fly-in fishing trip somewhere in the bush of Canada in the late 60's and had been friends as long as I could remember. Amos and Leta had two daughters, but no sons, so I guess he viewed me as a good candidate to tag along on hunting and fishing exploits as I have always preferred to hunt or fish over most anything.

Amos bought a property right at the mouth of the Ausable River where it flows into Lake Huron when he retired. He would spend a great deal of his time there in the summer and fall, fishing for Lake Trout, Salmon, Brown Trout and of course smallmouth bass. He told me how great the fishing was and how much I would enjoy catching those big, fast salmon if I could find time to join him. After a couple of years, I finally made the trip with him and Leta. The environment was a lot more laid back than I'd grown accustomed to when fishing with Amos. There was no hurry to get up in the mornings to beat the sunrise, no late nights cleaning piles of fish. Really, I was somewhat disappointed at first as I liked our fishing trips to be more like work than loafing around. But Amos had bought this place, he lived here, it wasn't like he only had a week or two to make meat.

Some days we would run up the river on his bass boat and fish for smallies or pike. Some days we would go out on some of the huge boats his neighbors owned to troll for salmon and lakers in the depths of Lake Huron, and some days we didn't do a dang thing. After a week or so, I got used to the laid back atmosphere, but I just couldn't stand being so close to so much water and not fishing! I bugged Amos non-stop to run the boat here or there most every day. Finally I must have just wore the old man out so he said, "You know, there is all kinds of fish right there" as he pointed to the river flowing passed. "Take one of these rods and go catch whatever you want". One of the neighbors was a diver and told me there was a hole right in front of his house that was full of walleye and smallmouth...and channel cats! He gave me directions on where I'd have to cast to sink my offering into the right spot as he knew how the current flowed and what it would take to get it just right. I decided that evening I'd bait up and catch some channel cats. I parked my carcass in front of "Stubs" house, chucked the rig into the river and laid the 8' baitcaster equipped rod down to wait. It wasn't long before I was catching and releasing one fat channel cat after another, having a ball! A fish again picked up my offering and made a run. I set the hook and was immediately greeted with the most fierce line ripping, drag burning battle of my young life. I had no idea what the heck I had on the other end of the line, but with the charters coming back in for the evening I remember thinking I may have tangled in a prop. That thought was short-lived as I started to gain a little line back only to have the dang fish run completely across the river again. I burned my thumb on the spool trying to slow the thing down. When it decided to run, it just did. I started yelling for Stub. He came out of his place carrying a glass of whiskey and sat down beside me saying, "Hmmm.. I'd say you've got a king." Why in the heck would a king salmon eat a nightcrawler????? The battle ensued, a crowd gathered, and the fish eventually tired enough to get her to Stub's waiting net. I had fought that fish for over an hour and at last she was rolling in! As Stub netted the beast, he handed me his glass. I took a swig, thinking no one would notice as all eyes were fixed on the fish being wrestled onto Stub's lawn. The fish took a club to the head, from Stub. She calmed immediately and it was soon evident what had happened... Somehow I'd snagged this 20lb torpedo - in the tail! No wonder she had put up such a fight! Salmon are impressive when hooked fairly, hook 'em in the tail and the are amazing!

Stub really didn't pay much attention to his now empty glass as he and I traded fish for drink. However, my buddy and mentor had been watching the ordeal from the back of the crowd of spectators. As we walked over to his cleaning station with my hard-won trophy, he quietly said, "Hey, don't breathe on Leta. She may not be so understanding about a boy's need to celebrate his first King Salmon". I couldn't help but laugh, afterall, I was 13 and had just caught my first king...and I was stone drunk.
 

giles

Cull buck specialist
Supporting Member
I laughed pretty hard at this! I lived up in AK for 10 years until recently, this is a very common story. The only reason I left was because I was tired of getting screwed by people. I have some pretty good fishing and hunting stories from my time spent in the woods. I'm all done with story telling for today though.
 

JPN

Junior Member
618
94
coshocton
I was 12 when my dad finally let me go with him during gun season. It was my dad, grandpa, and 8 other guys. They lived for gun season back then. They would do drives from daylight till dark all week. On the first drive we went to my dad was going to be a driver so I stood with my grandpa. I had no idea what I was in for. We were set up on the edge of a cut corn field facing a big hillsde that the drivers were pushing across. My grandpa told me that this was always the best drive they do and we should see some.
After about 15 minutes the deer started running through. The first few groups stayed at the top of the hill. Then finally a group of 3 does came across across the field right to us and my grandpa dropped one of them. After he shot it's like someone flipped a switch and there were deer everywhere. My dad said after it sounded like world war 3. Haha.
I bet we had seen at least 20 deer already. There was a slight break in the action, but after a few min I could hear more on their way. 6 does slipped out first and then a huge 140 inch 8 point followed them out toward the next guy down from us. He missed all 3 times and the buck turned and ran down the field right to us. Grandpa missed the first shot but hit with the next two. The buck died within 50 yards of us. It was the biggest deer I had ever seen. I was so excited and started to go over to it when grandpa grabbed me and said wait till the drive is over its your turn to shoot one! I was so scared because I had never shot 12 gauge before. Between being excited about the buck and nervous about shooting I was shaking so bad I could barely hold the gun up.
The next deer to come out was a yearling doe. She was about 80 yards out when I first raised the gun up. I can still hear my grandpa whispering to me to let her come closer. She came in to about 20 yards when he finally told me to shoot. I know for a fact when I pulled the trigger my eyes were closed but somehow I managed to hit it. She stumbled but kept running and made it out of the field. I didnt think I really hit it but she was just inside of the woods on the other side of the creek. Grandpa gave me a hug when we got to her and told me that's a lesson for you always let them get as close as you can, no reason to shoot at them far away when they're going to come closer. I bet he told me that 100 times over the years. Haha

Grandpa passed away last June. Gun season just wasn't the same without him. I know he was with me on every hunt though. He left that shotgun and 8 point mount to my dad and I. Everytime I look at them It brings back the great memory of my first deer hunt and first kill.
 

hickslawns

Dignitary Member
Supporting Member
39,721
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Ohio
When I was in the National Guard there was a story of a trip to Grayling. I did not witness this so I cannot verify.

Maintenance was always the rear of the convoy. Happened to be on this trip, the motor sgt and Warrant Officer drove personal vehicles. Truck broke down. Wrecker operator and his partner were finished hooking up the disabled deuce and a half when the two personal vehicles showed up behind them. They stand there chatting for a bit in rural BFE. Leaning across the hood of the vehicles someone spots a deer. Chief says he forgot to unload his hunting rifle from his vehicle before the trip and jokes about showing the guys how accurate his rifle is. Guys say "No way. That is 4-500yds away." Chief takes the challenge and jokingly says they will be eating good in the motor pool out in the field. Pulls rifle out, takes aim, deer drops. The deer was just beyond the crest of the hill. They were shocked when the deer stood back up and razzed the chief about missing. Chief takes aim again, squeezes trigger, deer drops. He starts bragging when the deer stands back up. They begin razzing him again. He always bragged about how accurate the rifle was but was looking for excuses as he took aim the third time. Squeezed the trigger the third time and they all stand waiting to see if the deer would get up again. After a few minutes of taking jabs at each other they decide they better go gather the deer and get the heck out of there. They walk across this field, up the incline of the rolling hill, and to the crest of the hill where they saw the deer standing just beyond the crest. What do they find? Not a dead deer, but THREE dead deer. lmao

Disclaimer: I don't know how true this story was. It was always the same old timers in the motor pool telling the story and the details never changed. I heard it a few times back in the early-mid 90's. I never partook in any of these activities. Maybe they didn't either. The story always got a chuckle though.
 
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giles

Cull buck specialist
Supporting Member
There I was…minding my own business, balls deep in a Philippine hooker…

Hahaha! You military guys will know what this is all about. Its how every classic story starts!
 

"J"

Git Off My Lawn
Supporting Member
56,743
274
North Carolina
What's the difference between a war story and a fairy tale????

The fairy tale starts off "once upon a time"

The war story starts off with "No shit this actually happened too me"
 

Buckmaster

Senior Member
14,362
191
Portage
In August of 1985 I went to spend a month with a friend of mine in Oscoda Michigan. His name was Amos, and along with his wife.

Nice tail Brock....reminds me of all the old Geezer's I used to hang out with. BTW, is Amos still with us?

In other notes, "Young Brock" sounds like Young Mason today.....the nut doesn't fall too far from the tree.
 

brock ratcliff

Dignitary Member
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Nice tail Brock....reminds me of all the old Geezer's I used to hang out with. BTW, is Amos still with us?

In other notes, "Young Brock" sounds like Young Mason today.....the nut doesn't fall too far from the tree.

Sadly, Amos passed away about 3 years ago. He had spent most of the last 20 years living on Lake Seminole catching huge largemouth and crappies. His youngest daughter brought his turkey gun and the shotgun he used for deer to me when she returned from the memorial service. I killed a turkey with the "longtom" shotgun that spring. I have not used the deer gun yet, but i should. Lots of great memories of that hillbilly!
 

Buckmaster

Senior Member
14,362
191
Portage
He had spent most of the last 20 years living on Lake Seminole catching huge largemouth and crappies.

That's the way I'd like to finish my life someday. That's living!
Oh, the LongTom....I still want to buy one of those for squirrel hunting someday.....if only those guns could talk....I'd like to hear the stories they tell.
 
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