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Inspiring Voices - W. Hamilton John

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46 pages

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This is the story of a young man as he journeys through life. On his journey, he learns to hunt the elusive whitetail deer as well as wild pigs.As you read his life story, you will meet the men who mentored him as a hunter and a Christian, teaching him to become a responsible adult and hunter and how to apply lessons learned to his own family, making him a better man for it.

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Publié par	Inspiring Voices
Date de parution	17 février 2014
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781462409082
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0240€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

BOUZIER CREEK WHITETAIL
Stories, Tall Tales, and Memories of a Whitetail Deer Hunter and the People He Met along the Way

JOHN W. HAMILTON

Copyright © 2014 John W. Hamilton.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Inspiring Voices books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

Inspiring Voices
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.inspiringvoices.com
1 (866) 697-5313

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN: 978-1-4624-0907-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4624-0908-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014902447

Inspiring Voices rev. date: 02/14/2014

CONTENTS
Preface
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII

In memory of my dad, C. W. Hamilton; my son, Christopher William Hamilton and my hunting buddies Weldon Hurley, Bert Helm and Maynard H atley.
Thanks to all of you who had a part in making my life what it has become. I could not have done it withou t you.
Special Thanks to my friend Mac Hurley who has kept me grounded through the years and Vince McClure who is a friend’s f riend.

PREFACE
Little did I know at the time what a change was in store for me the first time I watched a tan 1957 Chevy truck with a silver camper drive arou nd our circle drive. I had no idea that I would spend the next fifteen years eagerly waiting the next time Weldon Hurley decided to go hunting. On occasion he would bring his hunting bubby Bert and his son Mac was almost always with him. We always had fun and an adventure was guara nteed.
My dad C. W. “Bill” Hamilton, owned the seventeen-hundred acres, located in Coke County Texas, that we hunted on and we had the run of the place. Not an inch went unexplored or a day went by that I didn’t think of how I was going to bag my next whit etail.
Looking back, I realized what a blessing the ranch and the people I grew up around were and still continue to be through all I learned from them. A day hardly goes by that I don’t think of them in one way or the other. I am a blesse d man.

CHAPTER I
In the fall of 1969, my dad and I are standing in the drive working on our 62’ Chevy truck, when we heard someone driving up to the house. Now people didn’t just drive up to the house, you had to be coming to our house to get there. You see, we lived on a ranch. The closest paved road was three miles, and town with 338 residents, was two more after that. Our closest neighbor was a mile away across the pasture and four miles by road. To say I was curious about who was coming to our house was an understatement. When I saw the truck and did not recognize it, I asked dad, “Who’s that?” He just said, “Your mother’s u ncle.”
My mother’s uncle? I thought. At eleven years of age I didn’t even know she had an uncle. Now my curiosity was at an all time high and a ton of questions were going through my mind.
The man that got out of the truck could only be described as having a contagious smile, and I was soon to learn that if you we not having fun around Weldon, you were either asleep or dead. He and Dad shook hands, and it was very evident that the two were good friends. I would later learn that Weldon was dad’s best man when he married my m other.
He shook my hand and said that I had grown since he had last seen me, which was when I was born in 1958, I soon learned. As he and dad talked and caught up on the family news, the conversation turned to hunting, but not just hunting, deer hunting. I didn’t know any one hunted deer, but I was all ears and anxious to hear more.
Weldon was asking questions like the best place to see deer and how many dad thought we had and when he had last seen one. All these questions led me to believe he didn’t think we had many, but dad and I saw deer all the time, like every day if we were out driving around feeding the cattle. In fact our wheat fields looked like we ran sheep, the tracks were so thick. Weldon even asked, “Do ya’ll have sheep in these fields?” He couldn’t believe all the tracks were deer. Well, we drove around looking at several places. He and dad finally decided on a wheat field to hunt. I had no idea what Weldon had in mind, but I would later learn that he would park his truck and camper on the edge of the field and hunt out of the back window; ingenious at the time, a portable deer blind. Who woulda thu nk it?
Well, we left Weldon to it and went back to working on the truck. I could not help but wonder all night long “will Weldon kill a deer?” And if he does what’s he going to do with it? I did not have any idea we could eat them, and the possibility of a trophy was not even a th ought.
The next morning about 9:00 am Weldon showed up all excited with that huge smile on his face. Dad asked “well, have any luck? Weldon walked to the tailgate and showed us a small doe. You would’ve thought it was as big as a horse the way he was acting. He then asked if we had a place to hang it up to field dre ss it.
So, we took Weldon down to the barn and hung the doe up with baling wire by the hind legs.
I had no idea what was about to happen, so I was right under Weldon’s elbow as he gutted, skinned and quartered the deer. He then dropped it in an ice chest which he loaded into his camper. He then thanked dad, shook our hands, jumped in his truck and drove away. Weldon made deer hunting look easy.
I had no way of knowing that this would become a way of life that would play out over the many, many years to come.

CHAPTER II
Mulling over Weldon’s success at hunting haunted my young mind. Suddenly I have to have a gun. I had a .177 cal. pellet gun, but I wanted a gun to hunt deer with. Up to this point I had hunted rabbits and other small animals such as birds and mice in our grain bins, but I had to have a gun to hunt deer.
I talked to my parents about a larger gun and tried to sell the idea as best I could but to no avail. They just were not ready to have me running loose with a gun that could kill larger game and possibly cattle. I had to make do with what I had.
I became obsessed with hunting after that and spent every spare minute hunting something. I stalked rabbits with a passion. I would locate a rabbit and begin a stalk trying to get as close as possible for a shot. With a pellet gun I had be with in twenty feet to make a killing shot. I was a pretty fast study and had several animals bagged in just a few days.
Birds were another story. They would not tolerate me much closer than thirty feet. I bagged several, but it took a lot of time and work. Finally, I observed them watering at the water trough, near our house which had a storage building with in fifteen feet and a tree just as close. I quickly learned to lay in ambush to get a shot at an unsuspecting bird.
Weldon and Bert came to hunt, and they had an idea of their own about lying in wait. They brought with them eight large tractor tires to make deer blinds. My dad just shook his head and smiled. He must have thought they had lost their minds. But he gave them permission to set them up, and I got to go along to help.
Try as I might, I could not see how they were going to make a blind. Then they told me they were making two blinds not one, but two. I was baffled and could not picture what they were going to do. However, all I had to do was wait and I would soon learn the art of building tractor tire b linds.