Best outdoor memory with dad or grandfathers

Rode around South Texas with Grandpa in his '63 Chevy truck, when he worked for Mobil Oil.
I saw same truck at Barret-Jackson this year. It almost brought me to tears!

I remember the afternoon fishing trips during the summer when I was a kid. Since I was out of school I'd get the boat ready during the day. Rods loaded, trolling motor battery charged, transom saver installed etc. When he got home from work, he'd back up the driveway, I'd hook up the trailer and we'd go. I miss the hell out of fishing with my dad

Crabbing with dad in the Spillway in Norco.
Second would be some hunting and fishing with one of my uncles who had only one child, a girl, and she did not like the outdoors.

Fishing out of grapevine and circle drive on Toledo bend.

quote:

---

grandfather

---

We used to ride around in the fields by his house at night. He'd drive and shine the q-beam while my brother and I rode in the bed with a single shot .410. When he'd see an armadillo, coon, possum, etc. he'd pass us one shell through the sliding back glass at a time. We alternated shooting. This probably all occurred between the ages of 5 and 9.

quote:

---

dad

---

When I was a chap and my brother started hunting, he knew he couldn't take us together so I had to hunt solo. Momma gave him crap about leaving an 8 yr old in the woods with a rifle alone. Opening morning of deer season he walked me in with a flashlight and I climbed up a set of nails in a white oak to a 2x4 platform in a fork. He followed behind me, tied me to the tree with a yellow rope, handed me a rifle, and told me not to get down. I shot a button buck shortly after daylight and waited for him to come back. Momma came with him to pick me up. I remember her screaming and fussing at him the whole time he was grinning and laughing while he untied that rope.

quote:

---

He followed behind me, tied me to the tree with a yellow rope, handed me a rifle, and told me not to get down. I shot a button buck shortly after daylight and waited for him to come back. Momma came with him to pick me up. I remember her screaming and fussing at him the whole time he was grinning and laughing while he untied that rope.

---

That's hilarious.

Probably my best was my grandfather, dad and brother and I when I was maybe 8 went bream fishing. We lived in Florence, AL at the time and we were in a cove on the lake side of the river.

We had caught a few and decided to start snacking/eat our lunch with consisted of crackers, pork and beans and sardines.

We didn't have any thing to eat the franks and beans with so I (like my dad) took the top and tried to bend it into the rough shape of a spoon. Ended up cutting the crap out of my thumb. Didn't have anything really to wrap around it so my dad grabbed a rag from somewhere in the boat and wrapped it up.

After that my grandfather took my grub (just a regular grub from the yard) and dipped it into the oil from the sardines. Within seconds of the bait hitting the water I had one on.
Got it in and did the same thing again, and again within seconds had a fish.

That went on for a long time and we ended up with a mess of them.
Cleaned them and cooked them. When I was age the bream tail was my favorite. Tasted better than a potato chip.

Unfortunately, I'm the only one left from that fishing trip.

Landing a king mackerel in destin in a damn sea ray cuddy cabin when I was 7. My dad let me drag it all the way through the Jetty East parking lot, up the elevator and down the hall to show off to our extended family who was all staying there on a family vacation. Circa 1985.

1988, had just got home from the Navy, Grandfather and I headed down to his son/my uncle's camp in myrtle grove off of deer range. Whole lot of family drama had transpired while I was gone and I jumped at the chance.... We ate supper in port sulphur after visiting some of his tribe(he was a very very well known fella down there). Brought a bottle of old charter back to the camp, he was in poor health and was pretty much forbidden to drink..... but we tied one on that night, got all the straight scoop and just before we called it a night got a one like comment that I didn't understand or grasp until 16 years later. I had not fished alone with my grandfather since the limits had been put in place and I was forewarned that he didn't really measure his specks good or even remotely count his redfish.


We were fishing bay raquette, lake laurier and bay round so I didn't think much of and figured what the heck it was a weekday.... We probably had 18 reds and 40 trout - only a few were under 11 maybe 3 or so. but most of the reds were too small, his argument was - I wanna eat the small reds.. big ones are useless....


rolling back up to the camp and putting the boat in the shed, I see green jeans rolling up from lake hermitage and when he stopped to check the boat at the private launch across the canal - I still wasn't concerned.

well... gramps was not in condition to help me get the ice chest out of the boat but was helping anyway..... and he slipped and in clear view of everyone at the launch were a whole bunch of little reds on the white shells......

It was a short walk over a bridge and green jeans 1 comes over and had that look of "uh huh" I got ya'll. 5 reds were under sized, 8 over the limit- they didn't measure any specks.... Gramps pleaded with em to only write him the ticket because I had only kept my 5 - but they quickly said that ain't how it works......


He was pretty miffed about it... I was a little concerned how much the ticket was gonna be, he told me not to worry he would pay it. So after supper we are sitting on the swing on the dock... and up rolls green jeans.... gives us our tickets back......and walked away.... That next day was the last time I fished alone with my grandfather, might have been the last time he fished......

Not necessarily the best, the first to come to mind. My Papaw was a Southern Baptist preacher, I only ever heard him curse one time. We were bream fishing of a dock with the stringer hanging in the water. He pulls up the stringer to put a fish on, and there is a huge Cottonmouth latched on to one of them. He yells out Son of a B==H, 10 years old me stares in shock