My name is David Paul, but I am known by HuntnCarve in the call-making community. I grew up in a small town along the Allegheny River in Western Pennsylvania. I loved everything about the outdoors growing up. Most of my free time was spent roaming the woods behind the house, or fishing in the river with friends. My real love was hunting.

My father, though not a hunter, was an expert marksman in the service. He bought me my first .22 rifle and saw to it that I learned how to respect it, and use it properly. My mother, coping with the demands of a large family, managed to scrape up enough money to buy me a used 20 gauge single shot shotgun. Which she surprised me (and my father), with under the Christmas tree the following year.

My hunting heritage I owe to several people. “Nick”, an old retired coal miner who took me under his wing when I was ten, and taught me how to hunt groundhogs on his farm in Tioga County Pennsylvania. My Uncle Bill who saw to it that I learn how to hunt small/large game. Bill always made sure that I was invited along to hunt with his sons and him. He was there when I bagged my first wild turkey, and my first buck. I am truly indebted to him. A final tribute goes to one of my best friends, “Paul”. He was the older brother I never had. And though seven years in age separated us, he always had the time to answer my every question, and always invited me along to go hunting, fishing, or hiking in the woods. It was Paul who also taught me about woodworking. To this very day I am intrigued (and a little envious!) of his craftsmanship, and natural woodworking abilities. So as you see, my work is the culmination, and kind of a tribute, to a lot of fine peoples influence…

My first real predator hunt came about at Old Nick’s request that his son Danny take me out fox hunting. I had just trudged into the farmhouse from scouring the fields for groundhogs. When Danny, who was visiting his folks for the weekend, asked if I wanted to try and get a fox? Now Danny was a hunting and trapping legend in my world. Many was the time old Nick would tell me about Danny’s exploits in the field growing up! And here was my big chance!

Rummaging around in the back pantry, Danny managed to produce an old Burnham Brothers call, the likes of which I had never even known to exist. Heading down the abandoned dirt lane across from the farmhouse, we headed down into the wooded valley that was once in some bygone day, a thriving farm. Past the old barn and the sugar shed we quietly set up on the edge of a small wooded meadow with our backs to the hill behind us. Danny checked the wind, and positioned us so that we were facing into the slight breeze. Cupping the call in his hands, he let loose with a sound the likes of which I had never heard before! Three times he called with a brief pause between sequences. I was so intrigued watching how he did it, that I was caught off guard when he gently nudged me with his boot, and nodded up the meadow. Turning my head I could not believe my eyes! There bouncing down the meadow was the most beautiful red fox I had ever seen. I was mesmerized by it’s approach. It seemed to be floating on air. Danny whispered to me to get the rifle up on my knee and get ready to shoot. What rifle? Oh yeah the .22 rifle I held in my shaking hands! Slowly easing the rifle to my knee I tried in vain to find the bouncing fox in the tiny ¾” .22 scope. Panic set in, and I began to shake even more violently. It was then that Danny made a barking sound, which caused the fox to suddenly stop. Unfortunately there was a small blackberry bush blocking my view. I heard Danny whisper something about the wind switching up on us? Then that fast the fox whipped around and raced into the surrounding briars and was gone! I was devastated! Here I was hunting with a legend, and I failed to even get off a shot. I choked back the lump in my throat, and vowed I would not cry. It was then I heard Danny laughing?

Raising my head from my boots, I looked up and saw he was smiling. With a gentle slap on my back he said; “Son, I don’t know who was shakin more, you or me? Exciting wasn’t it! That one was my fault for setting us up wrong. I didn’t take into account the height difference between us, or the evening winds reversing their flow. Let’s go see if we can call us in another one before it gets too dark to see? You did real good allowing that red to work his way into shooting range. I did not figure he would go through those blackberries. Heck! Ask dad about the time I called one in for him at half this distance, and he missed!” “What” I exclaimed! “Nick missed a fox!” half in shock. “He sure did” Danny said with a grin. “Bet he never told you that story, huh?” “No I don’t recall ever hearing that story…?

I don’t remember the hike back up the hill that evening. I do however seem to remember that my 12 year old strides seemed to match my mentors, step for step. A predator hunter was born that evening.