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| Good Memory Bucks |
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| bigmacc:
Picture says "1946, Uncle Bud with another monster". I remember my dad telling stories of Uncle Bud, he was my great grandpas brother, I was around camp as a boy when he was still there. I remember him looking just like my great grandpa only much taller :chuckle:, those that know my family know what I'm saying, Bud was probably 6.6 or more. He was long and lanky, very soft spoken just like grandpa. A few of the things I remember about Bud was he always had the coolest rigs in camp, he had neat old jeeps, cab overs and all kinds of stuff he'd bring down from Alaska, had the neatest camp stuff(back then) and he didn't shoot many deer but when he did bring one to camp it was something to talk about! My dad said Uncle Bud ran a bunch of my great grandparents stuff up in Alaska when they weren't there (home was Bellingham but much of their work and business was in Alaska) and through him many of the characters who ended up in "Little Bellingham" found their way. Folks from Fish and Game guys, to authors(another story), politicians and to government hunters and then it led to their families and clans and the rest is history. Little Bellingham came to be from the beginnings back in 1917 to its hay days of the 30,s - the 80,s. I wish I could mention real names but I won't. 1946. Apparently Bud had went out to his usual spot, it was a place he and Paul, (Paul number 1 if your following :chuckle:) the slav fisherman kind of shared, it was of mutual respect that when Paul was done at this spot Bud was next up :chuckle:. Paul and grandma had killed a couple big fellas out there a few days prior, both real dandys. Dad said Bud was making a plan to go to the spot in two days but he wanted to let it rest, back then when migrations were in swing they were a day "on" then a day "off", sometimes depending on weather and wind it would be a day on then 2-3 days off or it could be non stop for 2,3 or even 5 days or more, I've sat in routes back in the 60,s where the migration was in full tilt for a week or more, every day. It all depended on many different variables and still does, at least whats left of "the migration". Uncle Bud made it to the spot, dad said the migration was still in motion, about 10 or so big bucks had come into camp over the last day or so. Dad said the day went by and no Bud. It was dark and as they were getting together a group to head out to help, a person appeared in the firelight, it was Bud, dad said, walking to the fire, rifle on his shoulder, quiet as usual. My great Grandma actually asked (according to dad) "wheres the buck Bud? Its out there, "dead as usual". A bunch went out to bring in the monster. "1946, Uncle Bud with another monster" is what the back of the picture reads. Its a nice spike by 2 :chuckle:, "per usual", like my dad always said. |
| bigmacc:
This is a story and memory of not only a buck but of a friend of mine who passed a few weeks ago, some on here know who he is, some on here know how special he was and some on here know, they just don’t make guys like this anymore. I will call him Willy, not his real name of course. Willy would stroll into camp starting back in the 70,s ( I think) and sometimes would be driving an old truck, sometimes on horse back but he always made sure to show up. Willy spent a Christmas or two at my wife and I,s house, we had many special times at their place, great dinners and great conversation. None more special than him and his wife’s trips to our camp. He had stories of huge bucks in the Pasayten, to “ mule deer graveyards” to bobcats under the house and , yep, a cougar under the house, with multiple pieces of collars and bones. Stories of yelling for his wife to “GRAB THE 30-30, WE GOT ANOTHER BOBCAT UNDER THE HOUSE! To, “you should have seen this non typical, I know he died within days of me see’n him, he was that old”, to “ hell, I could have shot the damn thing but I had no idea how I would have gotten him out”. To “ I know darn well that buck was an alien deer, he didn’t look right, it was almost like he was flot’n”, to “ well, I was looking di-rect-ly at him and tha damn thing layed down right in front of me, hell I couldn’t shoot him at that point”, (me asking) Hey Willy, how big was it? “ “about 3foot across, I’ve seen bigger”. Oh boy I could go on and on, the tarantula we made out of a pine cone and dropped from a tree at night around the fire, using fishing line and set the thing right on the armrest of his camp chair, dang near killed him! The time he told us about taking some pretty famous people into the old migration routes to get some pictures and a magazine article, only to have a pizzed off stinky buck charge the photographer and ended up hitting the truck, priceless. We always asked him if some of the bucks he seen and killed were special, he said yes, many were but they always weren’t the biggest or the most elusive. Willy had killed many big bucks, seen many big bucks during all his trips to the high country but the one that stuck out the most for him was a buck he killed with a particular relative, it wasn’t the biggest or baddest, but was the one he said he will never forget. I could go on but I won’t. He had tears in his eyes when he told me the story of this buck and that’s all you need to know about this “ good memory buck”. |
| JakeLand:
Bigmacc you should really consider writing a book or memoir WITH pics ! It would be a top seller for sure |
| teanawayslayer:
--- Quote from: JakeLand on April 23, 2022, 07:26:30 PM ---Bigmacc you should really consider writing a book or memoir WITH pics ! It would be a top seller for sure --- End quote --- :yeah: I’d buy one! |
| sagerat:
--- Quote from: teanawayslayer on April 23, 2022, 09:14:39 PM --- --- Quote from: JakeLand on April 23, 2022, 07:26:30 PM ---Bigmacc you should really consider writing a book or memoir WITH pics ! It would be a top seller for sure --- End quote --- :yeah: I’d buy one! --- End quote --- :yeah: Same here! |
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