5 Generations and Still Going

5 Generations and Still Going

By Ryan Graden

Hunting is in my blood! I know that’s a bold statement to make, but I’ve always felt like that was a true statement when I was growing up. Anytime that I ventured out into the woods with my father, grandfather, or uncles I felt just as comfortable sitting between two oak trees as I did sprawled out on the couch at home. I enjoyed tucking myself into the side of a ravine amongst the undergrowth hoping to catch a glimpse of movement for whatever I was hunting for. The more time I spent in the outdoors, the more I really wondered if I was “made” to do this. To my surprise, that very question was answered this last summer at my family reunion!

My uncle Barry began a new hobby a number of years back by researching our ancestry. He took this challenge very seriously and over a good number of months and a few trips to Germany, he traced our family roots way back to 1563 in a little town called Siselen, Switzerland. It was fascinating!
But my interest was really sparked as he began to uncover photos of my great-grandfather dating back to 1917. And what do you think that photo was of? You guessed it! A hunter! I knew it! Hunting was in my veins! I was super excited. I began to search through more of my uncle’s photos that he had found. Rabbits, squirrels, and even a very large catfish were all among the photos of my great-grandfather, Wallace Maxton.

Generation #1
Great-Grandpa Max was born in 1902 in St. Louis, Illinois. In his adult years he began a career as an insurance adjuster that led him to reside in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. My grandmother told me that he was always a hard working man that took great care of his family. Even though he had a busy career, he always found time to pursue small game such as squirrels, rabbits, quail, ducks, geese, as well as fishing.

Great-Grandpa Max married a lovely gal named Adele and they raised three children. Their names were Wilma (my grandmother), Ruth, and Ralph. My grandmother, Wilma, remembers times when grandpa Max would bring squirrels, rabbits, and other small game home for the dinner table after being out in the timber and fields. She said there was nothing “strange” about it. Her mother would cook it up in a tasty way and they would all fill their stomachs with the bounty from the local surroundings. They didn’t need the game to survive, but grandma said that it was normal table fare just like beef and pork.

Wilma grew up and soon met my grandfather, Victor Graden. He was a local farm boy from a large family, but for some reason she chose him!

Generation #2
Grandpa Vic was born and raised on a farm in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. He was the eighth child of eleven born to Louis and Ella Graden. Louis was a farmer and grew many different things on their acres including livestock, vegetables, and strawberries.
All the kids were raised to help with the work that needed to be done around the farm. Being one of only two boys out of the bunch, my grandfather Vic was brought up doing a lot of heavy labor with his brother Earl. There was time for play, but there was always quite a bit of work to do. They made their own meats, butter, and so much more. Once again, living as much off of what they could grow and gather and selling the rest in town for their income.

Grandpa Vic was born in 1925 and when he was 19 years old he joined the Merchant Marines and served in that capacity for two years. He finished his commitment to the MM and the very next day he was drafted by the army which happened to be toward the end of World War II. His comment toward his draft, “I just knew there was somebody on the draft board that didn’t like me!” He served for a year until he returned to go to school, date, engage, and marry my grandmother and once again be drafted for a second time in 1950.
Because of his military duties and attending college, Grandpa Vic did not do much hunting during the middle of his life. From time to time he would venture into the woods with his two boys as they were teenagers. Hunting was a hobby that the time that he could devote to it was few and far between. That was until he hit his retirement years.

After working for Alcoa in the Quad City area for over 30 years, my grandpa began to join any hunting adventure that he could do with us. Squirrel, rabbit, turkey, pheasant, and deer were the game that he pursued and usually, by this time, he had a few grandsons in tow! Grandpa only finished his hunting career with shooting two deer and two turkeys. But the memories and the love that he shared during our outings will never be forgotten.

Generation #3
Vic and Wilma ended up raising three very successful children, Roger (my father), Barry, and Lori. Like I said a few paragraphs prior, the hunting adventures with my grandfather and his sons started in their late teenage years. My dad remembers going with my grandfather and meeting a few other members of their church for squirrel hunts, rabbit hunts, and pheasant hunts. He’s not quite sure how it lined up, but one of the adventures that the three of them took was a deer hunting trip to Shimek State forest in Southeast Iowa.

It was my father’s first deer hunt and back then, he said you really didn’t see deer very often. They had hunted hard for a few days while staying in a pop-up camper during their adventure. Eventually, they had to pack things in and head for home with nothing to show for their efforts. As they were leaving a snow storm had rolled in and made travel pretty rough. Not too far down the road, the car and camper went into the ditch and the whole party was stuck on the side of the road.

My grandpa told my dad and his brother that they might as well go hunt while he figured out how to get out of this mess. It was during that very unfortunate incident that my dad got lucky. Venturing back into the woods he ended up cresting the top edge of a ridge and quickly saw a deer fleeing up the opposite side of the ravine. My dad fired a “chance” shot at a running deer and to his surprise, the deer dropped in its tracks. The slug had entered the back of the head and come out between the eyes. Not ideal, but nonetheless, excitement ensued!

I believe it was that moment that hooked my father on the sport. Harvesting something of that size was something new and from then on, he continued the pursuit of big game which was channeled into my upbringing. His brother was the same way. Even though many states separated their professional careers, both my father and my uncle spent many years hunting together and with friends whenever they could and passing that on to their sons.

Generation #4
And now me! The fourth generation hunter! The difference in my “generation” was the age that I was introduced. Some of my earliest memories of hunting are from the age of four years old. At that time, we lived in Ames and my father was attending College to receive another degree and was working part time at Iowa State University.

Saturday mornings were very special to me in those days. My dad would wake me up early, take me to Donutland on Lincoln Way in Ames, and then we would promptly head out to Ledges State Park to meet my uncles (who were also students) for a day of squirrel hunting and rabbit hunting. I remember being passed from uncle to uncle as we clamored through the woods. Sitting and talking while we watched the thick cover of the tree tops.

That was the foundation that began a thirst in me for the outdoors. It wasn’t so much the hunt and the kill, it was the time that I got to spend with family. Even now, thirty years later, those moments are very clear in my memory.

That was my pattern of growing up hunting. Weekends in the fall were out in the fields or timber chasing something with friends and family. Granted, I’ve learned a lot of skills that have led me to be a very successful hunter. I’ve harvested whitetails, turkeys (Easterns and Merriams), antelope, hogs, and countless other small game species. I’ve hunted in Iowa, South Carolina, Oklahoma, Nebraska, and Wyoming. But the best part about those hunts is the time that I spent with the guys that I was with.

I think it is easy to say, as the fourth generation hunter in our family, I have taken the sport of hunting to a degree that previous generations didn’t. But the reason for that was the influence that the previous generations had on each other. I just had the privilege of starting early! And that was my goal when I had a son someday.

Generation #5
Which didn’t happen! That’s right, four daughters! I’m not sure if God has a sense of humor, but I’m sure he was laughing when my fourth, once again, turned out to be a girl. I remember wondering and seriously thinking, “This is it. No more hunters in our family.” But little did I know I was dead wrong!

To my surprise, these little girls were born with a passion for the outdoors and a desire to be in them with their daddy. My oldest, Rylee, was always eager to see what Daddy would bring home after a day of hunting. She was not afraid to touch, inspect, and even taste what was provided to us from the wild. And, as she grew up, she began to show a desire to do what daddy did, hunt!

Soon I was teaching Rylee to shoot. She would go squirrel hunting and rabbit hunting with me whenever she could and whenever mom would allow it. A few years after that she began to talk about deer hunting and taking part in the Iowa Youth season. After lots of practice with a .50 caliber muzzleloader, Rylee harvested her first deer at age eight.

And what do you think that did for the younger sisters? They wanted to do it too! Brenlie, my next youngest daughter harvested her first deer a year later at age seven. And now, both have three deer harvests to their name. Brenlie harvested a 160 inch twelve-pointer deer when she was eight!

Next fall, I will be bringing my third daughter, Taydem, on her first youth hunt. She is excited to join the ranks of her older sisters who already hunt deer, turkeys, squirrels, rabbits, and trap coon, otter, and coyote. I could never imagine this would be my life! And yet, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. They were born for this!

What’s Next?
These are the days that I am now dreaming of. I know that my girls are young, but they are already talking about hunting with their kids someday. While Rylee and I were in a blind this fall trying to fill her deer tag, I had the opportunity to ask her why she likes hunting. She said, “Because I get to spend time with you and Papa.” That warmed my heart! Her answer spoke truth into the sport of hunting.

She went on to jokingly talk about when she is older and married (trust me, I’m hoping that date is years down the road!) she’ll bring her kids back and leave her husband at home to come hunt with me! It makes me laugh, but how I will enjoy those times!

I too dream of the day that I will continue to teach the sport of hunting to the next generation. I can’t wait till I become the “guide” for my daughters and grandchildren. The time when my retirement days are spent crossing the country to participate in hunting adventures with my family. I would die a happy man if God gave me that wish.

But until then, I plan to keep doing what I’m doing. In some ways I feel that it’s my duty and calling as a member of our family. Five generations of hunters is something to be proud of. Over 100 years of hunting! Amazing! I’m very proud of it and I hope that I can not only live up to the expectations of my family members, and also honor the expectations of the hunting community.

Our Responsibility
The existence and the continuation of this great sport starts with us. I’m sure that’s not something that we think of when we are in the field during the fall and winter months, but it’s true. If hunting is going to be there for future generations, it all comes down to us and here’s what I think we should be doing.

First, teach it to your kids, your nieces and nephews, your grandchildren, and your neighbors. Take them out and give them an experience that they’ll never forget. Remember, that doesn’t mean you have to bag the biggest thing out there. By no means! Invest in them, talk to them, teach them, laugh with them and most of all make an impact.

Second, teach them honor. Nobody likes a hunter who doesn’t abide by the rules. That’s a very quick way to taint and spoil a person’s opinion of hunting. Do things right! Do things legally. Make sure that you are honorable in all that you do. Ask permission, take ethical shots, and use what you harvest for your table. Show these newcomers the benefits of this great sport and how good it truly is.

Third, make it last! My grandfather, Vic, always said to me as we hunted together, “I will hunt as long as it is fun.” Unfortunately, in 1999, as I helped him lift his legs over a barb-wire fence, he turned to me and said, “It’s not fun anymore.” And I knew exactly what he meant. But, my grandpa made it last as long as he could and I’m so thankful for that! He will be turning 90 this summer and is still eager to look at hunting photos of my harvests as well as my daughters’ harvest. Even at his age, he does what he can to encourage us.
Do what you can to invest in your generations. Leave your mark and make your legacy. Ask yourself, “How will they remember me?” and let that question dictate your responsibility to your family with this great sport of hunting.

My desire is that the generations that come from me know how much the outdoors meant to my existence. I hope they realize how much MORE time with my family meant to me. That is the real reason why I hunt. These little girls mean the world to me. I want to provide for them, spend time with them, and most of all train them to be honorable and respectable women. For me, hunting played a huge part in my maturity and I know if I’m faithful to use this sport in the right way, it will do that for them to.
So begin something this year if you haven’t already. I can promise you, it will not be time that is wasted. Good luck!