I'll start... 1974 Thanksgiving day deer hunt with my Dad. I was 15 and it was my first deer hunt carrying a gun.. Snowy blustery day. Dad took me to the base of big Ole oak tree sitting on a east facing hill side and deposited my butt. He told me to stay right there until he came to get me.. Said he would come back later or if he heard me shoot. About 30 minutes after he left a spike buck ran out and I shot it. 30 minutes latter I hear a noise from the area where deer came from. He'd put on a one man drive for me and came walking up with a great big smile.
Mine would be my first deer I ever killed. I walked from my spot to my dad‘s to have lunch with him. It was an old fallen down tree, and he would sit in the crotch of it. It was a great natural blind, which he killed a ton of deer out of. While we’re sitting there drinking our coffee And eating our lunch, a big doe showed at 50 yards. We both got positioned waiting for a shot. Even though I was right next to my father, I saw an opening and I blew her heart out. She mule kicked and ran. I scared the tar out of my father with the shot and he snapped, “Why did you shoot?” I told him I had a clear shot at the vitals. So he told me to wait there. As he’s looking for the deer, he could not find the hit site or just kept doing arcs and yells out,“there she is!“ He was so proud . In many ways that feels just like yesterday. My God I miss him.
1. Didn't get a deer due to impatience. I was sitting overlooking a mountain laurel thicket. I could hear something on the other side, rustling leaves. Dumb me gets up to see what it was. Spooked a deer. Just got a glimpse of it...white tail. A few minutes later, I heard a shot. Dad's friend got the fork horn as it crossed the ridge in front of him. 2. Another time I sat off the side of a creek which had a small pool. Impatient me, I got up and still hunted until about lunch time. Came back by the creek and it looked like a herd of buffalo watered at the pool!
It would probably have to be the one where I shot my biggest buck. The evening of Oct 26th 2012. I was sitting for the last 6 hours because of the pre rut action. It was all quiet that evening and I was getting stuff put away because it was about 5 minutes left of shooting time. I had just put my headlamp on my head when I heard the classic buck coming footsteps. He got to 15 yards, I stopped him and shot. He let out a big grunt/moan, ran 20yds and stopped for a second and then fell over. Turns out I heart shot him. From the time I heard him coming to when he fell over was literally 30 seconds, maybe less.
First deer off our land. 3 ft of snow. He was the biggezt 8 I've taken and The guys were all at camp. I had to call the neighbor who owns land next door to help me. Even with a sled it took the two of us an hour to drag him 900 ft up hill to the house. We got it in the truck and I drove him to camp to brag. I had guys at lights honking and thumps upping at me.
Mine would be a toss up for me. Either my first deer ever(shotgun), or my first mature buck with a bow. Both of them left me unable to climb down and shaking uncontrollably with emotion and adrenaline. I've never not had "that feeling" you get after taking the shot, but none of them ever matched those two, not even close. I've killed bigger, but I suck at field judging so never knew it until afterwards. I think the only thing that may top those two, is to actually have a target deer that you learn and let consume you until it finally happens. I think that would be an absolutely epic hunting scenario. Maybe one day. I also have two that I would love to relive if I could change the one thing. 2012 I would have aimed 8-10" higher and 2018 I would have taken the shot instead of passing what I thought was a lesser buck
2004 November 14th. Mr. mass had him 7 yds from me and could not even get my bow back on this day 21 years ago. Took my boat to my stand in the morning, nothing came by first hour of hunting. I heard the splash and knew it was him crossing the river. Saw him coming down the trail he looked tired. He stop right behind a tree, he keeps walking straight I got him. I am set up for him to keep going. He stood there for what seem like eternity. He turned left, I could not get switch positions and watch him walk away.
It would be my first deer kill. I was 12 and sitting with my grandpa who got me into hunting. Its opening morning of gun season in wisconsin and we were sitting at the bottom of a big sidehill. About an hour after daylight, a doe walks above us at about 75 yards. I raise my open sighted 30-30 and fire 2 quick shots, both of which missed. The doe stood there still and I really focused on my 3rd shot. At the shot she jumped and I ran up that hill on record time to look for blood. Didn't find any and my grandpa slowly walked up and said let's just follow the trail she was on and follow the kicked up leaves. Sure enough about 50 yards later laid the beautiful doe. My grandpa was more proud and happy for that deer than me. Wish I could share another hunt with him.
Probably the time I was pheasant hunting and I looked down and saw a pheasant tail feather I reached down to pick it up and the rooster exploded out, I never recovered to make a shot.
I don't think of a single hunt really, but a period of time where my hunting fire sparked. My dad's best friend, a man who I consider a close friend, fellow hunter and even mentor, owned a cabin in Madison County NC back in the 90s. The deer there were rare as hens teeth in those steep hills and hollers back then. The cabin was small and spartan, but it had a certain feel to it. Close. Cozy. We watched John Wayne movies, cooked on a wood fired stove. Seriously an old school stove and oven. I learned so much and not really much about killing deer either. That came later. I heard amazing stories about riding horses out west to chase elk, deer stories and stories about fast 69 Chevelles. Just men, eating, farting, laughing and eventually dragging a smallish, acorn fed deer back to the creek crossing. I'd go back to that in a skinny minute. I had one of the most memorable hunts with my dad there. We were following a buck track in pretty deep snow, sleet still falling on us as we followed a logging road up a ditch. Up ahead a pine tree had laid over from the weight of the wet snow. A great buck bolted out from under it 15 yards from us. We never saw him there and we had stood there quietly for a good 10 minutes. It startled us both as we watched him bound off. Dad looked at me and happily said, "he was a good one!" We just walked back to the cabin, laughing and telling the story over and over. Those were good times.
I think about the times when I was little and going rabbit hunting with my uncle. The thrill of the beagles running a rabbit back at you was exciting. I miss those simple fun days and didn’t know how good I had it.
Probably my first Alberta bow kill in the snow. It was my next to the last day of my week long hunt. Not the kind of monster buck Alberta is know for, but my best to date. Heart shot and watched him drop. He weighed almost 300lbs!
