Why name it Pumpkin Hunting Products?

 My older brother and I completed our hunter safety course in August of 1982. During that time, my grandparents were staying with us for a couple of weeks because my father had a heart attack in the spring of that year, and by mid-summer he'd had bypass surgery at just 39 years old. My grandfather was there to take us to class. He encouraged us to do well, and we did, but we missed the 1982 deer season as my dad continued to recover.

The following year, money was tight and my grandparents wanted to make sure that we wouldn't miss another season, so they bought our hunting licenses for us. For my grandfather, as ornery as he was at times, deer hunting was all about family, along with the friends you knew and those you might meet. He was a World War II combat veteran with a no B.S. attitude when it came to gun safety. 

Our family had a standing invitation to a cabin that my grandfather's friend owned. It was bordered by over 7,000 acres of state forest in Pennsylvania's Pocono mountain region. Every year, my grandfather, my Uncle Mike, and my dad would go to the cabin the weekend before the season opener, which at that time, was always the first Monday after Thanksgiving. There, they reunited with other family friends. 

By the time I went hunting, the cabin had electricity, a propane stove/oven, a coal burning stove for heat, and one outhouse. We got our water from a nearby creek. I remember guys from surrounding cabins stopping in on Friday and Saturday night to catch up, have a drink, and smoke cigars, cigarettes, or pipes. That group would then move down to the next cabin as another group walked in. The woods would be filled with those same hunters come Monday morning. Everywhere you looked there was flourescent orange. At the time, my grandfather was getting up in age and had some health issues. While we were at the cabin, I was designated to stay with him, which suit me fine. 

I remember only walking in the woods when it was light enough to see a good distance. Following right behind my grandfather, I would help spot the orange worn by other hunters, and he would readjust where we were going to sit so that we weren't too close to anybody. When he was satified with where we were going to sit, he would discuss with me in which direction I was allowed to shoot at a deer, and in which direction I could only watch them without raising my gun. 

I did learn a lot from him, and he tolerated me fidgeting around on the cold ground while trying to stay still. Together, we would watch other hunters moving past us at a distance and wave to them as they walked by. My grandfather always refered to the woods on the opening day of deer season as the pumpkin patch. The number of hunters currently in the woods on opening day does not compare to the days when I was young. Back then, there was orange everywhere! 

Over the years, older generations of family and friends have passed on, and we no longer hunt from that cabin. I have taught my boys how to hunt, and they have hunted with their uncles, cousins, and close family friends. Unfortunately, they never got a chance to hunt with either one of their grandfathers.

When it comes to deer hunting, I have passed on the lessons that my grandfather taught me. I cherish the opportunity I had to hunt with someone I looked up to. I named my business Pumpkin Hunting Products as a way to honor my grandfather. I can still picture him looking at me with his wry smile, saying "Let's take a walk in the pumpkin patch and find us a buck."