My First Deer

[shaman]

I remember it as though it was yesterday. The brush of wool on my neck from the new hunting coat, the leaden feel of the way-to-big shotgun in my hands, the smell of my fathers pipe still lingering in the air as he left me on that stump and walked off into the fog. He had left me sitting on a section of newspaper and told me not to move until he came back for me.  As the light crept through the fog I felt the rain from the night before seep through my clothes leading to that  electric moment when it finally hit my underwear. I can still smell the smell of mothballs coming of my pants. They had been my uncle's, but mom had taken them in at the waist. He's brought them back from the war and hunted in them for years before springing for a set of brown duck bibs that he wore over a down suit.



I was fumbling with a couple of spare shells in my right side pocket, trying to keep my hand warm. I was having a hard time finding a way to keep my left hand from contacting the metal of the shotgun. It was getting cold. The sun had come up, but it had only gotten colder. I was beginning to shiver when I heard the snap of a twig behind me. I slowly turned and there he was, a magnificent animal with steam rushing from his nostrils and bleached antlers. He and I recognized each other in the same instant, and we seemed at once locked in a dance. . .





. . . or something like that. Somebody wrote that years ago for a magazine and I read it in the barbershop. Over the years, the memory of that story got so real I felt like it was mine. I remember Bud Scholl's shop like I was there last week. Bud had the back chair. Bud had his wall filled with pictures of his days as a drummer in the Cy Young Orchestra. Next to him was Earl Rechel. I found Earl years later and miles away from College Hill and gave him my business until he retired. Earl knew best how to keep my cowlick down. Next to Earl was Johnny "Rico" Wade. Johnny was the artist of the bunch. You had to expect at least an hour for your haircut from Johnny. A lot of that was the mandatory 3 smoke breaks he took while you were in the chair. Gramps always took Johnny. I floated between the three barbers over the years, and probably hit that shop for the last time while Nixon was in office.


I read that story and dreamed of taking a deer from that moment on. Grandpa was dead by then. The barbershop was closed. I think Johnny and Bud were dead as well. Dad had hung up his shotgun in '63 and only brought it for the riots in '67 and '68. I had already graduated college and been working a while before the bug finally hit me and I determined it was time to go deer hunting. It was nothing like what I had read.


That's the start of my story--the tease. I'd rather like to hear yours. After the ball gets rolling, I'll join in.

[DeerCamp]

[font="trebuchet ms"]I remember my first deer like it was yesterday. It was Dec 8th 2001.  My dad and I made the drive from our home in Midland to our property in Iron River just a few nights before.  I was hunting with my black diamond muzzle loader without a scope. I was very excited to be coming to Deer Camp for the first time. My dad and I stayed in a motel the first night due to heavy snows the area had received, however we were able to move all of our stuff into camp the next day. My Dad and I made my first trip into the woods on Dec 7th.[/font]
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[font="trebuchet ms"]We where doing an evening hunt and I really had no clue where to go. My dad suggested that anyplace in the woods is always good. So I walked about 20 yards off the trail and sat on a fallen tree. I was able to make my way into the stump so all you could see was my head. I remember thinking this has to be the best spot to hide for a deer to come.  All you could was my head.  My dad walked off and sat a few hundred yards away.  It was cold but still. And there I was moving around in that log like a bug trying to get situated. We hunted for a few hours before he came and got me. He saw 3 deer that night. I didn't see anything.  I remember walking into camp asking him all sorts of questions on hunting. He told me not to worry about not getting a deer tonight. We still had 3 nights left.  I went to bed that night in our camp and slept like a baby.[/font]
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[font="trebuchet ms"] The 7am alarm sounded and we awoke.  We had eggs and toast that morning before taking the walk into the woods. (We hunt different here, we get up when the suns coming out and eat and then head out. We also come in an hour before night falls.)  I remember being very tired after the walk in from a snowy night.  I came across the first spot called AJ LANE. I sat there only for a few min after my dad dropped me off before noticing that there was a herd of deer in-front of me about 100 yards out. I remember standing up and walking towards them before finally firing off a shot.  I had missed! I couldn't believe it.. My Dad came back after a few min smiling. Asking me what happened. I told him I think I missed Dad!! He asked me to point were the deer where and  we walked over there not deer no blood. He said that was a far shot for my gun. [/font]
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[font="trebuchet ms"]We walked over to the 4-corners as it's called and settled down for lunch. He went over the basics of my gun with me again as we ate. While we had just finished up I started to ask more questions about the deer. He told me once again anyplace in these woods is a good place to sit. He told me that even right here where we were eating lunch many of the men in the group have shot deer here at the 12o'clock hour while the camp lunch was going on in the wa…..He stopped and said look down the trail.. I looked and a few deer where just eating and running around.  He said go ahead and shoot… I shot my gun and again NO DEER!!! By this time I was very frustrated! We hunted the evening together seeing lots of deer but no shots. [/font]
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[font="trebuchet ms"]I remember walking in around 4ish and I was about 20 yards in-front of my Dad. I had my head down the whole way as he was behind me caring the chairs.  I kept thinking to my-self how the heck could I have missed?! I was kicking snow and just plain ticked off. I never picked up my head the whole time on this trail. But for some odd reason I just through my head up and put it back down and through it up again. A BUCK! A BUCK! MY MIND SAID THERES A BUCK RIGHT THERE JERRY!!![/font]
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[font="trebuchet ms"] I remember looking at him the 1st time I put my head up and then after I put it down and put it up again he was gone. I couldn't believe it. He just dissaperd, I thought I was seeing things. I was scanning the area and saw a big doe standing 75 yards out in the thickets. I fired a shot. Smoke went everywhere! My dad came to me and asked what I had shot at? I told him I shot at a deer. We looked in the area for few mins before finding nothing. I was starting to question myself was there really a deer or was it just my imagination wanting a deer to be there. When all of the sudden my dad stood on a log and told me to walk over to the right. My deer laid right there. I dropped that deer in its tracks! I was so stoked! I remember jumping up and down and giving my Dad a hug. I was so excited. We cleaned the deer and my dad told me I couldn't have shot this deer in a better spot.. As it was only 100 yards from camp.. That's the story of my first deer. And a story of a lesson learned! NEVER GIVE UP~![/font]

[schlupis]

The first deer I killed I was bowhunting behind the house in northern wisconsin. I was sitting in a homemade deer stand in a pine tree overlooking a pile of corn and apples. I was 14 yrs old and sat from 2 pm until right before dark and had not seen a deer.
 
I remember drawing my bow back to make sure I could do it if a deer walked in, a few days before I tried drawing back on a doe and was so fired up I remember not being able to do it no matter how hard I tried it was like the bow was locked up tight. once I had scared her off I could do it just fine.
 
Back to the first deer story I drew my bow back just fine. it was about 45 mins till last light and I heard a twig snap behind me I looked for a long time and saw nothing. Now light was fading and I was getting frustrated and decided to get down 5 mins early. I lowered my bow and climbed down from my tree picked up my metal bucket and when I took my first step, I spooked the buck that I had heard earlier.
 
I dropped my bucket ran to the otherside of the tree nocked a arrow and came to full draw and told my self when he steps out shoot. Well he stepped out and never stopped walking and I released the arrow and saw the deer hunch up and run off.
 
I ran over to the spot where I thought the deer was and found my arrow it was covered in guts (nice shot hey). I went back to my house got my dad and showed him the arrow. He said nice job you shot him in the guts hes probably going to run for awhile we will let him lay and track later.
 
After a few hours we went back to the woods I showed my dad where I was and where the deer was when I shot him. 45 yards difference point a to b.. not a good shot for a inexperinced hunter but I was a kid and excited.. Tracked for awhile and found very little blood, waited till morning to finish the job.
 
found the deer a few hundred yards away from where we stopped tracking. The coyotes found him first but none the less I tagged him and hung him proudly in our front yard. The 5 point rack still hangs in my garage over my hunting gear. I have been hooked on bowhunting ever since.

[shaman]

Sue and Hugh had invited me to hunt their 50 acres over in Grant County, Kentucky. The place consisted of a few acres of bottom land, a creek, and a ridgetop with an abandoned farm on it. I had been having good success hunting near the old family cemetery up on top of the ridge-a lot of sightings, but nothing worth putting an arrow into. When rifle season came, Hugh suggested I take a post on the hillside overlooking the creek.

Opening morning found me in sight of the back of their trailer, about half-way up the hill. I found a small erosion gully in which I could hunker down at the edge of a line of cedars. The gully was bone dry, and offered me complete concealment from anything coming to my sides and a clear shot at anything coming down the creek. The light came up. The shooting started-- about one shot per minute. It was cold, but I had a thermos of Espresso coffee to keep me warm.

Nothing. I sucked down a cup of coffee. Nothing. I sucked down another cup of coffee. After about 8 AM, the shooting stopped. Nothing. The sun came out here and there, but mostly it was cloudy.

Along about 10 AM, that coffee started to work on me. I had resolved to stay put until dinner time, but that was quickly becoming impossible. It was time for a break. I wandered out of my hole in the ground and started looking for a likely spot a few yards down wind of my location. I had a lot of layers on, and I felt like kid in a snowsuit. I put my rifle down and went to work.

I had placed my rifle across a stump. It was a Remington 742 in '06. I'd taken boar with it, but I was still looking for deer. After I was all zipped back up, I looked around and realized the stump offered as good a spot as the gully. Besides, it was going to be a bit warmer sitting on a stump than on the cold rocks. I sat down, put the rifle across my knees, pointing up the hill. Ah! This was the life-a man, his rifle, and a crisp November morning.

I had taken the rifle out the week before to my club to run a few rounds through it. I had recently scored a bunch of Musgrave 180grain round-nosed stuff. It was cheap-real cheap, but it shot through the 742 quite accurately, and without the recoil of the handloads my buddy had made me. After the switch back from Daylight Savings Time, it gets dark mighty early in Ohio. Rather than waste time waiting for a ceasefire and walking out, I'd cranked my scope all the way down to 9X to see where I was hitting the target. The Musgrave had been remarkably good fodder, and since it was getting dark, I decided to just leave everything as it was and not try any of the handloads, or the Remington Express I had brought along. The one thing I had forgotten to do was to crank the scope back to a reasonable power before leaving.

While I'd been getting my coat zipped back up, I had noticed the grunt call around my neck. I had forgotten it. This was something brand new to me. In those days grunt calls were the new "IN" thing. I had never tried a grunt call before. Maybe my luck would change.

"Eeeeh."

I waited a few seconds

"Eeeeh!"

Nothing. Oh well, it had only cost a few bucks. I remember letting go of the call and shifting a bit on the stump to look down into the creek.

There was a sound behind me that sounded like horses in a Western movie. I looked back over my shoulder. There was a large number of deer directly behind me, emerging from the wall of young cedars, less than 10 yards up the hill from my stump. I have no idea how many, but it was a lot.

Deer were running every which way. Some ran behind me, some ran in front. The ones that I was worried about were coming straight for my stump. When the stampede was over, I found a hoof print neatly centered between my boots. In the middle of the melee, I looked for some antlers in all this, and finally spotted a young buck-maybe a 4 or 6 pointer. He had come past me and was down the hill less than thirty yards away. I stood, swung the rifle over, and attempted to acquire him in the scope.

Drat. It was still on 9-Power. All I saw was a patch of hair, above a leg. I remember a blur in the lens as I touched it off.

A doe had slipped between me and the buck at a distance of about 10 feet. She had been running away from me, and I caught her in the rump just to the right of her tail. I still have this vision of the bullet exiting in slow motion from between her shoulder blades. She crumpled and landed near the bottom of the creek.

I got up and ran over to her. By this time, all the other deer had left. She passed on quietly while I knelt beside her, apologizing for the mistake.

Hugh had come in early with no luck. He helped me get her out, and introduced me to the mysteries of gutting. Sue came in and fixed us all a meal of chicken fried venison steaks.

So there you have it. Shaman was ambushed by an angry herd of deer while taking a leak, and managed to fight them off by shooting a buck and turning it into a Texas Heart Shot on a doe. It's my story, and I am sticking with it.

[marshall9779]

My father and I went thought some hard times when I was a teenager. I was always in trouble and my dad was strict and we were not very close during those times. We had hunted when I was younger and then quit when I was in highshcool. I was in the Navy after highschool and had gotten back from a med-cruise Aug. 2001. Not too long after getting back I realized that I really wanted to get back into hunting. I had watched my Dad take a nice six pointer whe I was 12 with his 20 year old Win. lever action 30-30. I also rattled up a buck when I was bow hunting when I was like 13, but had never gotten anything myself. I called my Dad up one day in Sep. and told him how I wanted to get back into deer hunting and that I wanted to get a rifle. I had gone home and we went and picked out a rifle for me. I ended up with a Win. Model 70 270WSM. I had hunted hard that rifle season but had not gotten anything. It was the last day before I had to get back from my Christmas standown. I went out earlier that day and had not seen anyting. I was debating on whether to go out that night. It was Dec 27th and freezing cold. There is about an 80-100 acre woodlot behind my parents house that is not posted. There is an old abandoned house in the center on the top of a ridge. The deer typically bed up around that area. There are some fields that border 3 sides of the woodlot. I finally decided to head out around 2:30pm. I went along the creek bottom and found a good spot nudged up against an embankment coming off the field behind me. I figured I might catch something as it was coming out to the field. I waited and waited. It wasn't until the last possible minute that I saw movement. Sure enough a deer was coming from up on top of the ridge where the abandoned house is towards the creek. I thought it was a doe, and it was doe season so I brought my newly acquired 270 WSM up to my shoulder. As soon as the deer stopped and lowered it's head to browse a little, I pulled the trigger. My ears rang like crazy from the blast. I looked up and didn't see anything for a second. My heart was pounding like no tomorrow. Then I saw the deer laying right were it had been standing the moment before. I immediately threw a fist pump and was so excited. I chabered another round and dropped the spent shell in my pocket. I went over to check out my first deer. It turned out to be a button buck, decent size. I drug it back toward the house aways, and then went and got my brother. I then began the task of field dressing, which I had never done before. With my brother holding a light for me I began the chore. The shot was perfect, double lung, but either a piece of bone or bullet fragment had torn though the stomach. Not a pleasant discovery during my first attempt at gutting a deer. It was definitely a learning experience. I still have that spent cartridge from that first deer. Most inmportantly though I had emursed my Dad back into hunting and had brought on a major change in our relationship. Over the past 7 years we have become closer than we ever were previous to that. If I hadn't called my Dad up and suggested that we get back into hunting, I doubt we would have the relationship that we have today.