The Greatest Hunter I Ever Knew Has Passed

Sorry to hear about your dad Toby. I'm betting that you are being a little harder on yourself than he would be. Knowing that you are following in his footsteps probably brought him a "joy" that you never even knew about.
 
Sorry for your loss Toby…I lost my father 7 years ago and still think about him quite a bit. I’m sure your father is looking down at you from heaven content with knowledge that he raised a good son. RIP.

HH
 
Sorry Toby, he lives on through you my friend. Just thankful you had him as long as you did. His pain is over now. If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to call.
 
Sorry for your loss Toby!
 
I'm very sorry for your loss Toby. My sincerest condolences to you and your family.
 
Before I put my meat pack board away for the year, I needed to restring it and patch a torn spot in canvas. What do I discover but Dad's name, Jack, written at the top. Another French name " DeSart" is written in red crayon, presumably the WWII soldier to whom the ammo pack was initially issued.
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If I recall correctly Dad bought it surplus shortly after I was born in 1952. I do know he used it once to pack out quarters of a moose his coworker shot. I used it a couple of times to pack out elk quarters. We did share one adventure with that pack board back in 1980.

My brother shot across a canyon and hit a large 7x7 bull. Mike tracked it into an alder thicket where it was down but by then too dark to shoot. He stayed with it thinking his hunting partner up in the truck would bring down a flashlight so he could finish the bull. Instead the arse drove off for town. Mike is diabetic and quickly in serious trouble with no food or fire. Fortunately, his wife immediately called search and rescue ... which Mike happened to be president. Somehow they were able to find him just about daybreak. The bull was dressed and Mike taken home to recover. Next morning I was at the tire shop when it opened and had four new snow tires put on my 1953 Chev stock truck. Then I loaded the horses and waited. Mike didn't show up till just after noon. Really had to hustle to get up there and bring the elk out before dark. That bull was down in a helluva hole. I could only get the horses to within a quarter mile and left them picketed on the old Forest Service phone line trail. We climbed down to the elk and I began frantically quartering it. Put the first hind quarter on the pack board and sent Mike climbing back up to the horses. I finished quartering it with one of those stupid little T-saws with the finger hole through the handle. Then threw the knuckle-busting SOB as far as my worn out arm could pitch it. Still no Mike so I hollered up the hill asking if he was okay. Long pause ... then a very weak "Nooo." Shit! I got up to him and he was in the bag. I dug out my candy bar and got him coherent again. He dropped the meat and I pulled/pushed him the rest of the way to the horses. I went back for the pack board, climbed into it, did a pushup and I was on my feet. Half crawled the rest of the way to the horses, dumped the meat, and went down for the other hind quarter. Got the paint horse loaded with meat and put Mike on my lineback dun. Walked them back to the truck, loaded up, and took him home.

The next day Mike had to go to work and I called in (we worked the same shift at the plant). Dad went with me to pick up the rest of the elk. He wouldn't ride down (he had a bad back) but instead stayed at the truck. I got the meat up and loaded on the paint and headed for the truck. As I rounded the last corner and left the trees, I could see Dad across the canyon on the road up above me with the snow covered ridge behind him all lit up with alpenglow. He had a bonfire burning. That is a scene that will be etched in my mind forever.

We loaded the horses and headed home. Just before we made it to the highway I noticed the gas gauge was low so I reached to the floor between my legs and turned the manual switch to the beer keg saddled tank hanging behind the cab on my side. Cough, cough, sputter. "Oh crap! I forgot to fill that tank!" Quickly switched back to the belly tank and what fumes remained in it. Dad almost had a stroke. The highway to Whitefish was a treacherous piece of road. Not a good place to run out of gas in the middle of the night. "Well Dad, we can always saddle up and pull the truck home." He was not amused. Fortunately, we made it to the Stillwater Bar and it was still open. The truck made its last gasp in the parking lot. Dad called his buddy in town and he drove out with two Jerry cans. Meantime the bartender let us run a tab and tell stories (neither of us brought cash). Don wouldn't take a dime for the gas and paid for our beer. He never even got a steak for his trouble. I was furious when I learned Mike's wife gave half the elk to the dumbass who almost killed him and didn't lift a finger to get the meat out. Mike felt bad and offered me his half. No I'll shoot my own ... and I did a couple weeks later. I pulled mine down a different mountain ... whole. But that's another story.
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I'm very sorry for your loss Toby! May God wrap His comforting arms around you at this difficult time!
 
May God bless you both
 
So sorry Toby. Remember the good times you had together.
 
Deepest condolences to you, your family, and many friends on your loss.
 
On 4/24/24, the greatest hunter I ever knew passed away. This was not just any hunter, he was truly gifted as an all around outdoorsman. He was my dad.

As I grew up, and grew to know him as the man he was, it was not until later in life that I realized just how special he was.

Sometimes, well, most times, you never really realize what you have until it’s gone. You never really understand that the special moments you share with your friends and family are just what they are. And that’s what we refer to as the good old days. The good old days are just fleeting moments in time that you can never get back. No matter how far you go in life, you always find yourself wanting to return to a time when life was much more simple. A time when things made more sense.

My dad was a hunter’s hunter. He was what most hunters aspire to be. He was dedicated, determined and dependable. The word quit was never in his vocabulary. I just wish I could amount to even half of what he was as a man and a hunter. For both of those things go hand in hand. You can never be great at anything, without first being a great person. And he was both a great man and a great person.

When I was a young boy, he taught me just what it took to be successful in both life and in what you love to do. And we had some great times in the field together. Whether it was hunting whitetail deer in the fall, or turkey during the spring, I always knew I was being taught by the best. I just wish I had retained more than a small fragment of what he showed me along the way.

I won’t go into detail on his vast accomplishments in the things he loved the most, but what I will say is, I will miss him forever and will always wish we had spent more time together. For the time that was lost, was completely my fault, and not his. He would’ve gladly spent way more time with me than we ultimately spent together. But sometimes, well, most times, a young man just doesn’t put the most important things in life at the top of his list. And for that I am truly regretful. I love you pop. And if we ever get the chance to do this life over again, I promise I will spend more time with you. You, at the very least, deserve that.
Very well said my friend.
 
Sorry for your loss Toby. We had my Dads funeral today 3 years ago and also think about him everyday. Had a similar relationship with my dad he also wished we spent more time together, but he understood and respected our differences. All the best for your family
 
My most sincere condolences Toby, RIP
 
I’m sorry for your loss, Toby. Remember all the great times you shared and all the different ways he enriched your entire family By his presence in your lives. You were fortunate to have such a great dad. Condolences to all of you.
 
Sorry for your loss. It sounds like he was one good man, and raised another one.
 

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Grz63 wrote on Werty's profile.
(cont'd)
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Grz63 wrote on Werty's profile.
Good Morning,
I plan to visit MT next Sept.
May I ask you to give me your comments; do I forget something ? are my choices worthy ? Thank you in advance
Philippe (France)

Start in Billings, Then visit little big horn battlefield,
MT grizzly encounter,
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Looking to buy a 375 H&H or .416 Rem Mag if anyone has anything they want to let go of
 
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