~End of an Era~

Infidel 762

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My grandpa ran a country store that doubled as a post office. I shot this deer in the opening in this pic and you can see the grain elevators in the background where that store was. It was a wooden store that was tore down and replaced with one made metal. The building is gone but the sky still turns from orange to indigo… indigo



When I began hunting as a kid we did not have deer stands. We climbed trees like monkeys, sitting in the most uncomforatble positions for hours. We shot the first thing we saw with antlers and had no trail cam pics of what was out there. We sat out into the cold looking for a lucky tree and hoped by happenstance one would wander by. We entered the woods at dawn, with more hope than strategy and what we lacked in scouting was made up for with motivation.



I remember my dad carrying me across the icy waters of the Cimarron river, every hunt was an adventure as to where we would end up. Memories of a time before online check in stations. Mornings where the fog disapeared into itself as the sky turned from orange to indigo. Proud moments showing off basket racks in the line of trucks weighing deer at check-in. We have advanced with technology and equiptment, yet left behind an essence of an era I am grateful to have experienced.





I hunt sum of the same sand ridges I shot basket racks as a kid. A place where the deer population has outpaced our technological growth, from an era where just getting any deer was something special. I’m a little older now but I still remember, nor could ever forget.


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Shortly after shooting this deer rain fell from the sky. I observed a fighting wound that almost took out an eye. I quartered this deer in the rain taking in the smells of the valley.


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In this valley the rain washes away the blood



An era should not be remembered by memory alone. Like faith heard by divine voice, an era is relived by the many voices radiating from all edges of this earthly realm. Time has shown that faith softens the hard edges of this world as it revolves madly on…
 
That's a dandy buck that you got, another thanks for sharing!
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When I see Infidel 762 start a thread, I get a thrill before ever clicking on it. I know what to expect inside and am never disappointed. I know I will get quality, usually quantity, a great read with insight and the whole thing captured in AWESOME photos. This post fell right in line with all the rest and gave me great pleasure to enjoy it. Another STUD buck has met his match.

To the OP, YOU HAVE MANY SKILLS!!!

THANKS for SHARING!
 
Love the stories, I started hunting in the mid 1950s but with a bow, I didn't rifle hung deer until my freshman year at college. The forest was walking distance from the dorm.
 
What a great story to read, great pictures to look at, brings back memories of yesterday. Thank you for sharing your story with us as always.
 
Great write up. I shy away from technology in the hunting field. I don't own a GPS, if I can't read a topo map and use a compass then I guess I'll get lost. That sort of thing. But times changed and evolved, I'm a dinosaur... I'm ok with that.
 
Always read a Infidel 762 post - food for my soul.

Also remember climbing trees, setting too long in one place, nearly falling out cause of the stiffness.
 
Looks like Orienta and the Gloss Mtns. Beautiful country, worked out that way a bunch.

You nailed it! That town was named after the orient railroad that used to run thru there. the railroads have been torn out but i learned to use the built up elevation where the tracks used to be to make coyote stands. this is the old highway 412 that used to run between the elevators. less than a mile from where this pic was taken.;

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those river bottoms in the background is where i cut my teeth chasing coyotes as a kid.
 
I remember much of the same hunting as a kid. I started hunting deer at 13 or14 some 60 years ago. Things have surely changed and not all for the better. Enjoyed the story as always.
 
Great buck. I was born in Shartuck, OK but grew up in East Texas. Got to go back a few years ago while on a turkey hunt at Gene Howe WMA between Canadian and Higgins where my grandparents had lived for a while.
 
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