When I was young (how I regret that phrase), the old guys used to bore me with stories of how much better the hunting was, how much better the guns were, how much better—and simpler—cars and trucks were or even how much prettier the girls were when they were young. Now that I am among the old guys I am sometimes tempted to wax similarly. But was it really better 20, 30, 40 or even 50 years ago?
I needed a pair of waders. It was that simple. The water was so cold it made me feel like I had been digging in the ice-cold beer cooler at a weekend barbecue for more than five minutes with my feet (gross, I know, but follow me here), only I didn’t come away with a frothy beverage—just cold feet.
I’ve heard plenty of funny hunting stories over the years, but one of my personal favorites comes from my Dad, set a year so before I was even born and just after my parents had moved in together.
It's nigh impossible to go on a hunting trip without coming back with a few yarns to spin, and another of my favorites involves my dad and his now (long retired) Golden Retriever, Chelsea.