Mustangs Rule
Well-known member
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2021
- Messages
- 699
Thank you for reminding me of my dear Friend.
Malcolm had two wives, both died young. He had no kids. I became like a son to him. I moved away, bought some ranch land in the mountains and built a home. He lived in what became suburbia. Used to be farmland. He visited my place several times. Brought his Springfield up to shoot it.
We talked by phone a lot. He always called me on my birthday,,,then one year when he did not. I called him. No answer. Hmmm. I got worried. I did not know any of his family. So I called all the local hospitals and found him. We had fine conversation.
The next day I called back and he was dead. I got info for the funeral service and drove several hours to attend. I knew nobody but they had been told about me by Malcolm. I have no idea what happened to his Springfield, or the custom .257 Roberts he had built on a Mexican Small ring Mauser for his second wife maned Gertrude.
He once gave me a spike elk antler. I had a Green River skinning knife blade I bought in Wyoming. I made a handle for it with that antler. Malcolm was born right after our National Forest system was born, they literally grew up together.
He never overused fork and spoon, stayed lean and trim his whole life. He was greatly disappointed with fat hunters, especially when using quads which were just coming out around the time he and I were friends.
At his funeral I was told he did not suffer much. One day he just did not feel well, checked in to the hospital and “checked out” two days later.
I can still recall the kindness, gentleness and gratitude in his voice when I found him and we had our final conversation.
Never once in the many hours we spent together did we ever once talk politics. I had no idea what party he belonged too nor did he ever once ask about my political leanings.
All we talked about was the outdoors. His knowledge was extensive. He read all the works of early field biologists, many funded by the Pittman Robertson Act and he only shot what he would eat. He never shots predators, saying killing something because it was trying to stay alive and feed it’s young was not for him. I have followed suit.
He did regret not serving in the military, being just too young for WW1 and too old for WW2. He did however take great pride in his work supporting the passing of Pittman Robertson Act,,,which I found out from him, was actually begun by WW1 vets. After seeing how devoid of wildlife Europe had become they were inspired to help American wildlife.
He attended many meetings with them as they planned their campaign to get the Federal Aid to Wildlife Act passed. In the end it only passed by one vote, gained by having a Woman’s State Garden club in the Midwest, who fully supported the Act, mercilessly hound the needed politician until he voted for it. It was a hard pass, in the Great Depression then,,asking for such sacrifice and knowing that funding would pay for enforcement of existing laws.
This is all lost information now.
I wrote a fine article about him. I submitted it to several outdoor mags but it was rejected over and over.
Malcolm had the purist spirit and most generous, unselfish heart of any hunter I ever met.
Rifles can collect an essence from their owners. Wherever that rifle is, it will miss him forever, like I do.
MR
Malcolm had two wives, both died young. He had no kids. I became like a son to him. I moved away, bought some ranch land in the mountains and built a home. He lived in what became suburbia. Used to be farmland. He visited my place several times. Brought his Springfield up to shoot it.
We talked by phone a lot. He always called me on my birthday,,,then one year when he did not. I called him. No answer. Hmmm. I got worried. I did not know any of his family. So I called all the local hospitals and found him. We had fine conversation.
The next day I called back and he was dead. I got info for the funeral service and drove several hours to attend. I knew nobody but they had been told about me by Malcolm. I have no idea what happened to his Springfield, or the custom .257 Roberts he had built on a Mexican Small ring Mauser for his second wife maned Gertrude.
He once gave me a spike elk antler. I had a Green River skinning knife blade I bought in Wyoming. I made a handle for it with that antler. Malcolm was born right after our National Forest system was born, they literally grew up together.
He never overused fork and spoon, stayed lean and trim his whole life. He was greatly disappointed with fat hunters, especially when using quads which were just coming out around the time he and I were friends.
At his funeral I was told he did not suffer much. One day he just did not feel well, checked in to the hospital and “checked out” two days later.
I can still recall the kindness, gentleness and gratitude in his voice when I found him and we had our final conversation.
Never once in the many hours we spent together did we ever once talk politics. I had no idea what party he belonged too nor did he ever once ask about my political leanings.
All we talked about was the outdoors. His knowledge was extensive. He read all the works of early field biologists, many funded by the Pittman Robertson Act and he only shot what he would eat. He never shots predators, saying killing something because it was trying to stay alive and feed it’s young was not for him. I have followed suit.
He did regret not serving in the military, being just too young for WW1 and too old for WW2. He did however take great pride in his work supporting the passing of Pittman Robertson Act,,,which I found out from him, was actually begun by WW1 vets. After seeing how devoid of wildlife Europe had become they were inspired to help American wildlife.
He attended many meetings with them as they planned their campaign to get the Federal Aid to Wildlife Act passed. In the end it only passed by one vote, gained by having a Woman’s State Garden club in the Midwest, who fully supported the Act, mercilessly hound the needed politician until he voted for it. It was a hard pass, in the Great Depression then,,asking for such sacrifice and knowing that funding would pay for enforcement of existing laws.
This is all lost information now.
I wrote a fine article about him. I submitted it to several outdoor mags but it was rejected over and over.
Malcolm had the purist spirit and most generous, unselfish heart of any hunter I ever met.
Rifles can collect an essence from their owners. Wherever that rifle is, it will miss him forever, like I do.
MR
