Dave Church
Well-known member
....and I didn't want to steal his thread.
Tim,
Great story! As my brother-in-law/Best Man in my wedding/Godfather of my oldest boy fights for his life against cancer, I remember fishing with him years ago in my little boat. We chatted about everything and it eventually turned to "not so flattering" talk of our mother-in-law. When we finished getting the boat on the trailer, we noticed the camcorder had been in the bag...ON... recording our every word. Together we destroyed the tape together....we still laugh about it. I will hate when we can't talk and laugh about it anymore. He always was there to support me in my endeavors and was the one who pushed me to start my decoy business. He was an executive with Goodyear for years before he had to leave due to his illness. It was flattering the way he, a giant business man, would listen to me talk about how I was going to get my little business going. He never judged, he never interfered...........he just supported. He wasn't much of a hunter, but I would have loved to have spent some time in the field with him. We did fish together and I will always have those memories.
I also think somedays back to when the sound of those old decoys clunked in the burlap bag like Tim had mentioned. Ihadn't though of that sound in years. Hell, at one time I think I was hauling them in an old corn sack. A man on the other side of the river thought I was a duck in the early morning light as I made soft quacks. I had no idea he was even there. He fired in my direction before legal shooting time. A couple pellets dug in under my skin on my left hand. It stung like the dickens. I hollared and he ran off unseen, heard a truck door slam and away he went. I could have been seriously injured, he never stopped to check. He left his decoys...3 old Victors and a Carry-lite. They were not much to look at, but I waded across the river and claimed them as my own. The strings were from bailing twine and most had old fender washers or a bolt as the anchor. The rust from the anchors left stains on the decoys that wouldn't come off. The Carry-lite had been a chew toy for some young pup, it's head all dimpled and gnarled. This was my first "spread".
My first pair of waders were hip boots that the neighbor boy had out grown. The straps that connect to the belt were gone and I was using old boot laces to keep them up. They leaked a bit and I used to cram my feet into plastic sandwich bags to try and keep my feet as dry as possible. A farmer gave me a green "Pioneer" seed corn hat and that was the closest thing I had to a camo hat. I usually wore a green or brown shirt and my dad's old tan brush coat that he wore for pheasants. My friend carried an Ithaca 16ga., it was a bolt action and the barrel looked as if it were 30 FEET long. He had a shoulder strap and when he carried it, it caught every limb as we made our way down to the river. The river was no duck heaven, but it was running water and somebody once said that they THOUGHT they saw a duck there........once......so I hunted it like it was the flooded timber of Arkansas. I used my grandfathers old Remington Model 11. Most of the shells I had were paper hulls and I had to be really careful about getting them wet.
I walked beans, detasseled corn and bucked bales to earn money to buy my school clothes and such. I almost had enough to buy a Faulk's duck call from the local hardware store when the owner just gave it to me. By the looks of it, I think it had been there for many years. It was the worst sounding duck call I have ever heard. Still have it in my drawer in the shop. When the boys have asked about it they always follow up with the "why do you still have it" question. The easiest answer I give them is that it reminds me of hard work and determination. I saved a little more and ordered a Yentzen Sure Shot duck call. I still carry it on my lanyard. When you don't come from much and you don't have much, it's easy to envy what everyone is taking into the field. It's like when you see a beautiful bass boat slip down the ramp. You wish it was yours, but then you see him fishing the same shoreline that you are sitting on. I think my dad enjoyed meeting with other hunters out in the field when we had our limit of big pheasants, taken by our old hand-me-down guns. The "road hunters" carried their expensive guns and "hadn't seen a thing". It always looks silly when a kid with a cane pole walks off with a stringer full of fish as you winch the big boat back on the trailer.......skunked. I sometimes have to "step back" and remember that i used to shoot geese and ducks over old tires and bleach bottles. I used to wade with sandwich bags on my feet. It's more important to remember what you HAD......not what you think you needed.
dc
Tim,
Great story! As my brother-in-law/Best Man in my wedding/Godfather of my oldest boy fights for his life against cancer, I remember fishing with him years ago in my little boat. We chatted about everything and it eventually turned to "not so flattering" talk of our mother-in-law. When we finished getting the boat on the trailer, we noticed the camcorder had been in the bag...ON... recording our every word. Together we destroyed the tape together....we still laugh about it. I will hate when we can't talk and laugh about it anymore. He always was there to support me in my endeavors and was the one who pushed me to start my decoy business. He was an executive with Goodyear for years before he had to leave due to his illness. It was flattering the way he, a giant business man, would listen to me talk about how I was going to get my little business going. He never judged, he never interfered...........he just supported. He wasn't much of a hunter, but I would have loved to have spent some time in the field with him. We did fish together and I will always have those memories.
I also think somedays back to when the sound of those old decoys clunked in the burlap bag like Tim had mentioned. Ihadn't though of that sound in years. Hell, at one time I think I was hauling them in an old corn sack. A man on the other side of the river thought I was a duck in the early morning light as I made soft quacks. I had no idea he was even there. He fired in my direction before legal shooting time. A couple pellets dug in under my skin on my left hand. It stung like the dickens. I hollared and he ran off unseen, heard a truck door slam and away he went. I could have been seriously injured, he never stopped to check. He left his decoys...3 old Victors and a Carry-lite. They were not much to look at, but I waded across the river and claimed them as my own. The strings were from bailing twine and most had old fender washers or a bolt as the anchor. The rust from the anchors left stains on the decoys that wouldn't come off. The Carry-lite had been a chew toy for some young pup, it's head all dimpled and gnarled. This was my first "spread".
My first pair of waders were hip boots that the neighbor boy had out grown. The straps that connect to the belt were gone and I was using old boot laces to keep them up. They leaked a bit and I used to cram my feet into plastic sandwich bags to try and keep my feet as dry as possible. A farmer gave me a green "Pioneer" seed corn hat and that was the closest thing I had to a camo hat. I usually wore a green or brown shirt and my dad's old tan brush coat that he wore for pheasants. My friend carried an Ithaca 16ga., it was a bolt action and the barrel looked as if it were 30 FEET long. He had a shoulder strap and when he carried it, it caught every limb as we made our way down to the river. The river was no duck heaven, but it was running water and somebody once said that they THOUGHT they saw a duck there........once......so I hunted it like it was the flooded timber of Arkansas. I used my grandfathers old Remington Model 11. Most of the shells I had were paper hulls and I had to be really careful about getting them wet.
I walked beans, detasseled corn and bucked bales to earn money to buy my school clothes and such. I almost had enough to buy a Faulk's duck call from the local hardware store when the owner just gave it to me. By the looks of it, I think it had been there for many years. It was the worst sounding duck call I have ever heard. Still have it in my drawer in the shop. When the boys have asked about it they always follow up with the "why do you still have it" question. The easiest answer I give them is that it reminds me of hard work and determination. I saved a little more and ordered a Yentzen Sure Shot duck call. I still carry it on my lanyard. When you don't come from much and you don't have much, it's easy to envy what everyone is taking into the field. It's like when you see a beautiful bass boat slip down the ramp. You wish it was yours, but then you see him fishing the same shoreline that you are sitting on. I think my dad enjoyed meeting with other hunters out in the field when we had our limit of big pheasants, taken by our old hand-me-down guns. The "road hunters" carried their expensive guns and "hadn't seen a thing". It always looks silly when a kid with a cane pole walks off with a stringer full of fish as you winch the big boat back on the trailer.......skunked. I sometimes have to "step back" and remember that i used to shoot geese and ducks over old tires and bleach bottles. I used to wade with sandwich bags on my feet. It's more important to remember what you HAD......not what you think you needed.
dc
Now we are right at the forefront of high speed connections but not back then. 
