How did your Dad teach you how to shoot and hunt?

[GatorFarmer]

He gave me a rifle when I was 12ish. It was a Remington bolt action, a 541 if I remember right, in .22 LR. It was fitted with a scope when I got it that was already mounted and bore sighted. I hated that rifle. It was too heavy for me and fit me poorly. The bolt was also stiff. I'd wanted a simple 10/22, but the Remington was what I got. I think it still lives in my mother's closet. My father never took me to shoot, he simply provided a rifle, and I took NRA small bore classes as the local civic center. I think my father was a member of the same sportsman's club that I was in later years, but I never saw him there, and I honestly don't know. He never liked handguns and offered no real advice or any such about them.

 

[Joeygun]

I recall going along for groundhogs at an early age (single digits). Dad even sighted in on one and as he held the rifle he let me reach up and pull the trigger....just once. I know, I know...

Later on after I went through hunter's safety and got my first license we hunted squirrels alot. My Dad's older brother also took me hunting several times. I remember using my Dad's single-shot Savage .22 Hornet rifle one summer for groundhogs with him. I shot a chuck that was pretty far out for a fixed 4x Weaver, at least in my 12-13 year old mind. Dad and Mom had some guests over later in the week and the male half of the couple pulled me aside and told me that my Dad was bragging about my shot. My head never retruned to its normal size.

Anyway, Dad always made time to take me hunting, especially during high school when my group of friends was questionable at some points. I know this is getting long...but I can never pay him back for that.

 

[JV1]

Dad bought me a pellet rifle when I was 10. It was the only gun we ever had at home. I practiced all day shooting at bottle caps and tin cans. Then I joined the cadets and that is where I really learned to shoot competitively. Now I shoot Palma competitions. As for hunting, it is all self taught. I remember going duck hunting for the first time. I shot two boxes of shells in the morning and walked away with no ducks. The next weekend same thing, two boxes of shell and no ducks. We decided to go for the afternoon pass. I had shot about half a box of shells when three ducks were coming straight at me. I shoot for the first duck and the third one comes down. That my friends, is when I learned to lead.
I have two children a boy and a girl, I made sure that they both learned to shoot at the age of 9. They love it.

 

[John Eilertson]

I'm the only son with 3 sisters, and tho' I don't know what, if any difference that made, my dad had all of us out hunting and fishing as early as he could. I'm second oldest, and began going along on hunting trips since I was 4 or 5. Be it at a public duck hunting island, public fields for upland birds or plain deer hunting camping trips I was allowed to belong. My dad taught me to shoot a BB-gun whem I was 5 or 6, and gave me my first gun, a 410, a year or so later. He would take me on deer trips to our coast, and I reckon I badgered him enough that he'd let me shoot one of those pine squirrels. AFTER he was sure there were no bucks around. When I was about 7 he introduced me to deer rifles, starting with an old .32 Special he had from his grandfather, made in 1901. I got along well with that weapon, and at age 8 he allowed me to hunt deer with him (after I passed the Hunter's Safety test.) This was on one of our week long trips a couple hundred miles from home. No deer that year, but many afterwards. He also introduced me to his favorite hunting, which was waterfowl. We spent many, many days in the blind together and with friends or family, and I learned how to set dekes and how to properly call ducks. We obviously didn't limit too often, but you'd never know from our grins. When I was 16 my mom's dad gave me my first 12 gauge shotgun, and let me go with him and my great uncle to eastern Oregon to hunt chukars. We never limited, but that was never the point. I met some nice people and hunted behind some great dogs. Gramps and I would also scour the mountains looking for grouse, sometimes successfully. I was with him when I killed my first pheasant. He and I had loads of fun looking around the small towns and historic mountains. Did I mention that my dad also got me interested in fishing? A million and one stories from that I could tell, but won't. Looong story short, my dad was behind my outdoor interests, and I couldn't be more grateful. What a world I would have missed!

 

[quneur]

Another old thread!

I'll bite. My parents fought like dogs and cats which finally ended in a divorce. That was around the time when dad went over to spend a tour in VN.

The person who taught me to shoot and hunt was my mom's bf and a father figure to me. At 12, he bought me a Benjiman pump bb rifle. Bad Idea. I shot up the backyard with it. I would put firecrackers on top of the fence and shoot them off. At the end, the fence looked like a dog chewed it. One year later, he made me remember the 10 rules of gun safety. He then took me on my first deer hunt. During bird season we would go every possible weekend which lasted Sept - Jan in Hawai'i. It was an expensive affair; we would fly to Molokai so every weekend was a mini adventure.

 

[ImprovedModel56Fan]

My father wasn't a shooter. Gil Hebard and his friends taught me to shoot.

 

[frbeall]

I can't remember what age, I'm guessing 6. My dad enrolled me in a N.R.A. sanctioned class at the Y.M.C.A., we shot BB guns. He shot competitively in the R.O.T.C. and N.R.A. I've got his 1939 model 52 which he used, it's about 99% condition.