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Started shooting falling block .22s when I was 6. Cant rightly recall also started to hunt wabbit and tree rats at 6 or 7 with a Pearson or Bear fiberglass bow. Did quite well at it. My father always eager for the wabbits. I was loosing my arrows as they stuck in the trees. So a took some empty brass cases put the over the end of my arrows and stunned then down out of the trees. 7th Christmas I got a nylon 66 that all my kids stated out on and now I have passed onto my oldest grandchild and youngest son last summer. I hunted with it as well. Then started to hunt with my father's Winchester pre 64 in .308. Started to hunt with BP at 15 and have done so since and also with BPCR. That now has to be now if I look at using the bow 62 years this year. WOW! My fathers guns will all get passed on my kids and grandkids this year as well as the majority of my cartridge guns. Not including BPCR. That way they can enjoy them, ask about stories behind the guns and reminisce what they remember and heard about shooting and hunting with me while I am still here.
 
I remember my Dad carrying me on his shoulders in the woods when I was 4 or 5. At age 10 he gave me his old Winchester model 67 single shot .22 and "permission" to hunt squirrels by myself behind our house. I felt like Daniel Boone carrying that rifle in the woods the first time by myself. That was 31 years ago and since then the Lord has blessed me with many deer, turkeys and one black bear.

I'm happy to say me and my Dad still hunt together, he's getting ready to turn 70. And this past November he was with me and my 11 year old son when he got a beautiful 10 point and was able to get a picture of three generations of hunters. I will cherish that picture forever
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Richard
64 and still going strong but at a much slower speed!! I agree when you stop hunting you die... have told my kids and wife if I die in the woods I die happy!
 
I remember my Dad carrying me on his shoulders in the woods when I was 4 or 5. At age 10 he gave me his old Winchester model 67 single shot .22 and "permission" to hunt squirrels by myself behind our house. I felt like Daniel Boone carrying that rifle in the woods the first time by myself. That was 31 years ago and since then the Lord has blessed me with many deer, turkeys and one black bear.

I'm happy to say me and my Dad still hunt together, he's getting ready to turn 70. And this past November he was with me and my 11 year old son when he got a beautiful 10 point and was able to get a picture of three generations of hunters. I will cherish that picture foreverView attachment 61757
that picture is PRICELESS, my friend. it belongs on a calendrer!!
 
I'm starting my little girl out right. She was 5 at the time.
 
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I grew up in an anti-gun, anti-hunting family that moved "to the country" when I was three. Last of five kids, my older brothers and sisters were into all school sports and activities, I just want to be outside. We had seven acres but were surrounded by a tree farm, a dairy farm, and a fruit farm. Ponds and orchards and woods and fields all around. I started "hunting" at about 5, as soon as I was allowed to roam about on my own. I learned to sneak up on crows (always watch for the sentry up in a tree), learned to approach deer with out frightening them (keep your hands inside your body outline and don't stare), and learned to sneak up on a groundhog by sending him to ground and then circling around from the back.

Slingshots were all I was allowed (not really allowed, just did not get caught.) At 17 I convinced my VERY anti father that I was responsible enough for a shotgun. He eventually relented. We never discussed my hobby, but he somehow showed up when a pheasant was in the overn.

One thing led to another and I now have hunted Africa, Alaska, many US states, and Canada. Elk, caribou, grizzly, black bear, deer and countless African plains game. I hunt three states for turkey and deer every year, and have a camp in the mountains where I spend every free day in the fall and winter. My house is full of trophies from successful hunts and pictures from others.

At 67 years old, I spend most of my off-work time either hunting, shooting competitively, or planning for same. One last trip for Cape Buffalo is on the list. If I died on that trip, it would be the perfect ending of a life of sport, challenge, and adventure.

ADK Bigfoot
Thinking back on my early years of hunting, we have a lot in common - except my dad was not anti gun. He loved guns and at 10 years old, he went to sheep camp with his dad, uncle and older brothers. Being a bit too young to help with the sheep herding, dad's job was to keep them in camp meat. On his 10th birthday, his dad gave him an 1890 Winchester pump .22 WRF (Special) to use. Any animal at the time was fair game. Well, he passed the love of guns and hunting on to us kids, and for my 12th birthday, I got a single shot .22 (Sears and Roebuck). Dad wanted us to learn to hunt and not just shoot - hence the single shot. To this day, I prefer single shots, including muzzle loaders. I roamed the foothills of my home town (800 people). It was a farming community nestled in south central Utah. I remember getting up at first light, grabbing that .22 and my dog. Mom fixed me breakfast and I was off on foot. The only stipulation was that the dog went with me and that I checked in the very moment I got home. Three years ago for my 60th birthday, dad ( 90 years old) gave me his Winchester 1890 .22 Special he'd owned since the early 1930's. Through tear filled eyes, I gave him a hug and promised to cherish it. I plan on passing it on to my son when I'm 90, or sooner provided I live that long.
 
Started packing dad's thermos and 12ga shells to the duck blind when I was about 7 years old. If that's when it started, I have hunted every year for 70 years. I have sat on the Alaskan tide flat and waited for a Brown Bear to get real close, and had rocks thrown at me off a cliff by ****** off Baboons south of the Kalahari Desert in Africa. I wouldn't trade a minute of it for anything. I fully intend to die leaning against a stump in the process of dragging out my last buck. I think I could probably do it for another 10 years if it hadn't been for wild women, parties, and some things like working for a living, but it's ok. I raised my son to be a better man than me, so I guess I can claim success.
 

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If you count Meadowlarks and Woodchucks about 55 years.

These days however, depends what you call "hunting". Mostly its deer off the second floor balcony, or moose if I get a permit, and geese from the back porch flying over the house.

The woodchucks these days are the ones that harass my garden, so I don't go looking for them, they come to me and the balcony serves for them many times as well.
 
Flintlock hunting since early 1980s. Moved to wilderness area in the 90s and found some solid groups of guys to hunt with in the post Christmas season. Big part of my life.
 
This subject brings up a wide variety of emotions for me. I'm not as old as most of you. However the vast majority of my friends and people I associate with are 10 to 30 years older then me.

I have been hunting since I was about 10. Slingshot, bb gun and homemade bow. I have been hunting legally 'on the books' with a hunting license since 1990. So I just finished my 30th season. I am 46. I CANNOT, not go hunting. There is a primeval need that arises from deep inside me every late summer that I can't explain or ignore that commands me to go afield. Been that way since I was young. It's not a bloodlust. I don't find glee in slaughtering animals. But I must go 'make meat'. I fully expect to hunt until I die.

My friends are slowly dropping out of hunting. Body aches and pains are a common excuse. Some have just lost the drive to out in the fall and winter weather. Some make up reasons not to go. A buddy always claims his wife tells him he can't go. He's lying. She has never told him that. I suspect he just does not want to do it anymore and can't admit it to the rest of us. For those who have dropped out in my circle of friends, it does seem like 50 years give or take is about right. I don't blame them for wanting to stop hunting. This is no judgement call. But it depresses me greatly to see once great woodsmen blow out the candle on a passion they once had.

I don't see the same drive these great woodsmen once had, nor the drive I have, in most folks my age. I REALLY don't see ANY interest in hunting in folks younger than my generation. Sure there are a few 10-25 year old 'kids' hunting. But very few. I've said this for a few years now, the great tradition of hunting dies with my generation. Whether legally or socially, it dies when the X generation becomes elderly and starts to pass in great numbers. This angers me.

So for those of you who have had great experiences afield, have garnered nearly an infinite amount of woodmanship skills after 1/2 a century in the woods, find a young'un, ANY young'un and teach them firearm safety and teach them how to hunt. Maybe you can't hunt anymore, but YOU can pass it on. It ain't easy but it will be worth it.
 
I started at 14. I shot a muzzleloader for the first time at 16. My neighbor built one from a kit as he was recovering from an injury. I tagged along with him one day when he took it out. After high school I enlisted in the Navy and got stationed in Maine. I saw a muzzle loading segment on the old "Sports Afield" TV show and that got the interest going in them again. I bought a used CVA Mountain Rifle and for a time during the 1980's all I hunted with were muzzleloaders. Later, I got stationed in Western New York State and my focus shifted more towards Waterfowling, which continued for the next 30 years. Virginia has never been known as a great destination for duck hunting. I used to go home to New York State twice during the season to duck hunt. The last couple of years were frustrating with drought, dried up beaver ponds, and no birds. I rediscovered my love of black powder and started deer hunting with a muzzleloader again. I also love to chase Woodcock, which is very good here in Virginia. I will be 61 this year. I'm in decent shape, but smart enough to realize that I simply can't do the things I did when I was in my 20 or 30's. The late Larry Benoit devoted a chapter of "How to bag the biggest buck of your life" to conditioning. He mentioned that heart attacks kill more hunters than accidents. I agree, and make it a point to get into decent shape before each season. I still make trips to Maine and more recently the Adirondacks. I love being afield, love the history, and consider myself a Conservationist. I plan to hunt until I am no longer physically able to.
 
Well I'm definitely the baby here. I'm 45 and just finished my 3rd season hunting. I wasn't ever around anyone that hunted much, so never got into it, but now that I have, I can't imagine not doing it.
Shot my first white tail this year with a modern in-line .50cal, and have now picked up a custom built G.L. Jones from my sister-in-law that I am going to learn to shoot and hunt with. I'm excited!
 
RJ:

There was a story in a recent edition of Whitetail Times magazine of a gent who hunted well into 100 years old. In fact, he shot his largest bucks during the last 20 years of his life.
 

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