08/25/2026
๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐ข๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐๐ฅ๐๐๐๐ฌ ๐๐ง ๐ก๐ข๐ข๐ก ๐๐ง
This was my grandfather's blaze orange vest that he gave to me when I started hunting with him as a young boy. He later bought me this great blaze orange fleece hat that is reversible with camo on the opposing side. He also gave me my first tackle box you see in the second photo, my first deer r***e, a WWII era 7mm Ma**er, then my first 12 gauge sh***un, then my first modern r***e, a 35 caliber Marlin lever action.
Our grandfather was instrumental in fostering our love for the outdoors. He was an avid hunter and angler. Every fall, using the cabin in West Virginia as home base, he would bag 2-3 deer over the course of the archery, r***e and black powder seasons. Most of the venison, along with several trout, would live in the chest freezer in the cabin cellar, always available for when we visited the cabin year round. What a treat.
He was one of the most patient men I've ever known. He could sit in a deer stand hunting or by the stream fishing for hours on end while hardly moving a muscle. I remember as a child how difficult it was for me to sit still with him. In the West Virginia mountain, November mornings are cold. Like, frozen boogers in your mustache cold. As a boy, the first hour was exciting as the dawn light would bring our surroundings into focus along with the possibility of seeing a target moseying through the woods. But that hour is about all I was good for. My grandfather never got a deer while I was hunting with him. I just couldn't sit still long enough. But that didn't stop him from taking me out every year.
What I wouldn't give to have one more morning in the blind with our grandfather. I think he would have really enjoyed using the Drake. I hope we are making him proud and honoring his legacy.
