Gene hunted in PA when he was younger. In fact he was one of only a handful of bow hunters who hunted in Pennsylvania's first ever bow season. He hadn't had much chance to bow hunt after moving to Michigan. Together we hunted for years all over the state of Michigan, we hunted elk in Idaho and deer in his home state of Pennsylvania. Gene was one of the best natural hunters I've ever know and he's killed some huge bucks.
Over the years Geno had plenty of health issues, two open heart surgeries, knee and hip replacements and to complicate it all, diabetes. Through it all Gene proved to be one of the toughest men I have ever known. He continued to try to do the things he loved doing when most others would be setting on the couch waiting to die. The last few years he couldn't walk far from the truck so I'd drop him off close to where he wanted to hunt then go park the truck some distance away. We hunted in PA for the last 7 or 8 years spending a week out east and had a great time. Anything I ever did with Geno was an adventure.
One of Gene's favorite times to hunt was in the muzzle loader season (mid-December) in central Michigan. Him and I owned a hunting camp "up north" for years and always loved hunting that area. This last year he wanted to go up north again for a weekend of muzzle loader hunting, He took a 4 wheeler (quad) with him to help him get around. I thought it was a good idea. Gene knows that area like the back of his hand, However this year, things were different. The first time out on the quad he was lost most of the time undoubtedly due to the dementia that was effecting him to a degree. Gene realized that he wasn't quite right and sat quietly while we ate supper that night. He knew he was loosing it.
He asked me to shoot a deer for him because "I'll never get another deer again and I'm out of deer meat". I really didn't think I would get a chance to shoot something decent and wasn't going to shoot a small deer. Lake County, Michigan isn't know for decent bucks, mostly you could expect to see spikes, fork horns or small basket rack bucks. On that hunt with Gene I had a goal, to shoot him a decent buck so he could fill his freezer with some venison. That next evening the Good Lord delivered a beautiful buck in front of me at about 25 yards and I had Geno's deer. We left for home the next morning not knowing that this would be the last hunt we would ever have together. Gene died before he could get the meat back from the processor.
He was a good friend and I am much richer for having known him.
