thusby
Well-known member
1994 or 1995. A group of 5 does came running down a ridge and I shot the last one in line. I'm sure there is a picture somewhere. I couldn't have been prouder of that doe. I won't talk about how many rounds I used.
Do you remember your first time?
- Thread starter devon deer
- Start date
1998, I hope the statute of limitations has passed. My dad bought a tag and I couldn’t legally hunt until I was 12 then. I was 9. Poor spike was the first thing with antlers out of the timber and it was all over. Dad said I asked him “should I shoot” he said “it’s up to BOOM!” 
Nick87
Well-known member
Been trying to find the pic all morning with no success. November 1999 I was 12. Busted up 5 point that was more like a spike every point was broken off at the main beam. Dad wasn't all that savvy on slugs guns or deer hunting for that matter.I had a smooth bore 870 never sighted it in he put one of each kind of slugs we had in there. I still remember him telling me one if them should shoot pretty straight. 
In this case it was the second slug. Buck stepped out at 20 yards first one sailed over his back (I think) second one was through the heart. I still remember that like it was yesterday.
Great thread!
In this case it was the second slug. Buck stepped out at 20 yards first one sailed over his back (I think) second one was through the heart. I still remember that like it was yesterday. Great thread!
I was with my mom and it was a whitetail doe with a lever action 30-30.
It was in western Montana, and we will say that I was 12 years old, which is the legal hunting age.
It was raining and snowing lightly and was wet and cold.
We dragged her down to a road and then began walking back up to our truck a ways before someone stopped to give us a ride.
It was in western Montana, and we will say that I was 12 years old, which is the legal hunting age.
It was raining and snowing lightly and was wet and cold.
We dragged her down to a road and then began walking back up to our truck a ways before someone stopped to give us a ride.
Mine was in 2014 when I was 27, my 3rd year of big game hunting, but my first year with a deer tag. I was living in Jackson, WY and had only hunted elk and antelope before then. I didn't have much direction, but figured if I walked enough I'd find one. Sure enough one day I did a big loop to the top of this mountain, about 7 miles and when I was about a quarter mile from the truck with half hour of light left, I spot a deer raking a tree. Couldn't see antlers, but figured it was a buck by the way it was acting. I hustled up to the top of a knob across from where he was. He turned out to be a small forky, but he was with 2 other deer that were a bit better. In the fading light I picked out what I thought was the biggest one (will never be totally sure about that...), all I could see was his left side and it looked like it forked. Good enough. I settled the crosshairs of the .300 wsm and sent one. Saw the buck pick up his left leg like it had been hit and thought, "Oh crap, I just hit him in the leg..." Fired again and saw him go into a pile of brush. Saw the other two bucks bust out but didn't see the third, so I figured I killed him. Sure enough he was piled up in that brush, a 2.5 yr old 3x4. I was super excited to see he had 4 points on one side. Turns out the first shot hit him a bit low in the rear of the shoulder, which was good enough to put him down. I think the second one missed. My phone died during the hunt so I don't have any pics in the field, but here is the euro...
Nameless Range
Well-known member
1996. The hills west of Clancy, Montana with an open-sighted 30-30. My dad and I crawled up to within 50 yards of a buck and I rested the gun on a down and dead ponderosa. Missed the first shot. Hit it in the neck on the second. Turned it into jerky. Before the days of performative photo-staging.
buffybr
Well-known member
My first deer was a spike mulie that I shot with a borrowed Win model 94 in .32 Win Spl. It was in October, 1965 and I was hunting with one of my college roommates in the hills north of Craig, Colorado.
I proudly hung those antlers on my college bedroom wall, but I don't have any idea where they are now.
That was the start of a very successful hunting career, and I now have over 80 mounts in my house of animals that I have taken on hunts all over the world.
I proudly hung those antlers on my college bedroom wall, but I don't have any idea where they are now.
That was the start of a very successful hunting career, and I now have over 80 mounts in my house of animals that I have taken on hunts all over the world.
As an afterthought, I still remember that it cost me $145 for a shoulder mount. Lot of money back then for a 15 year old in high school!
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shrapnel
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- Aug 27, 2015
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- 2,301
Do you have room for a moose? I don't have anywhere near the mounts you do and I am out of room in my little house...
TrumpkinTheDwarf
Well-known member
I was 12, it was in the Crazy mountains, and the elk weren't cooperating. My grandpa left me on a little knob to make a push through some timber and look for my uncle. I remember hearing him coming back in snow, only he sounded awful bouncy. "thud, thud, thud, thud..." And out stotted a MONSTER mule deer buck. I remember rolling to my knees to swing my rifle, and I remember picking up the empty shell, but I don't remember firing. I smoked that 25" two point like I'd been shooting deer for 30 years. He folded up, and when I walked up to him I realized he was about as small as you can shoot a buck without it being a spike. 
Gellar
Well-known member
I was 12. I had, and still do, a 20 gauge 870 with a slug barrel. I won it at a pheasants forever banquet a year or two prior in a raffle. Open sights. Iowa’s 1st gun season is always the first Saturday of December through Wednesday. Mom would let us miss 1 day of school to go hunting. I shot at bucks (easy shots) and missed Saturday and Sunday. I had the buck fever bad! Monday afternoon I was posted on a ridge on the edge of a crp field two timbered fingers were to my left and right and they came together behind me. A buck came by and I shot at it 1 time because it was moving pretty fast. I watched all bummed out because I missed another deer. All of a sudden it keeled over and was dead!
October 19th, 2018 at just around 5:45 pm (my second year of hunting). An alfalfa fed wyoming whitetail doe that i was lucky enough to get permission to take a poke at in an otherwise hopeless part of wyoming to find public land whitetails. Great experience - then girlfriend's, now wife's, first hunting experience as she got to tag along
my second deer was a respectable white tail buck on that same plot of land the next year
my second deer was a respectable white tail buck on that same plot of land the next year
This pic has been over-posted. Circa 1986, I was with my mom, I saw this buck so I shot him with a 99 Savage chambered in .243 Win.
I was on BLM land near private. The ranch manager heard the shot and drove down the road to make sure we weren't trespassing, then congratulated me on the buck and helped us get it to the truck.
Commence Marty McFly comments...
Fullquiver
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- Joined
- Jul 18, 2018
- Messages
- 449
My first deer, was in Oct 3, 1977 I was 12 yo and My dad never expected me to get a deer
He sat me right on our property line with the neighbors. Who just just happened to be picking the cornfield I was sitting next to.. I will never forget the sound of that old Allis Chalmers WD45 with the corn picker and gravity box entering the top of the field..
Well it didn't take long and the deer started pouring out of that field like fleas off of a dead dog.. I was sitting at the edge of the woodline in a large sugar maple about 4 ft off from the ground on a large limb.. Well a small herd of does came right by me. The first one passed before I could get my bow drawn. So the second one got the arrow from all of 4 ft away... I was shooting a small handmade 32lb recurve bow with cedar arrows and feathers. The shafts had been dipped olive green except for the red and white of the crest and a red and 2 white feathers.. I made a perfect hit right behind the shoulder. She ran right up into the woods and dropped within sight of my father... I jumped down to the ground whooping and hollering proud as any rooster. However that scared off a nice 8 point that was just about in position for my father to make the shot.. He always reminded me about that when the story was told..
I hope I never forget..
He sat me right on our property line with the neighbors. Who just just happened to be picking the cornfield I was sitting next to.. I will never forget the sound of that old Allis Chalmers WD45 with the corn picker and gravity box entering the top of the field..
Well it didn't take long and the deer started pouring out of that field like fleas off of a dead dog.. I was sitting at the edge of the woodline in a large sugar maple about 4 ft off from the ground on a large limb.. Well a small herd of does came right by me. The first one passed before I could get my bow drawn. So the second one got the arrow from all of 4 ft away... I was shooting a small handmade 32lb recurve bow with cedar arrows and feathers. The shafts had been dipped olive green except for the red and white of the crest and a red and 2 white feathers.. I made a perfect hit right behind the shoulder. She ran right up into the woods and dropped within sight of my father... I jumped down to the ground whooping and hollering proud as any rooster. However that scared off a nice 8 point that was just about in position for my father to make the shot.. He always reminded me about that when the story was told..
I hope I never forget..
buffybr
Well-known member
Ha, ha! Too bad George sold the Powderhorn as he could have made room there. Thirty years ago when I built my 1,000 sq ft trophy room I never thought it would be too small. Now it's walls are full, including two of my own moose, and I have 9 pedestal mounts on the floor in there.
I've also just about filled up my living room. Jerry called me the other day and said he has my Arapawa ram done, and he still has 7 more of my animals to mount, including a life size mountain lion.
First deer I ever shot, musta been 15 years old I think. Doe and fawn came trotting by about 20 yards right infront of me. I waited until the doe was broadside and I put a 20 gauge slug clean through both shoulder blades. The deer jumped and the near leg started flopping around. I still remember the reaction to her getting shot, and I remember in that moment thinking about how similar her reaction was to when a carp gets hit with an arrow. IDK why I thought that but I did.
Anyways, the deer bolted right into a blown down tree and was deader than 4 am the second she hit the ground.
Anyways, the deer bolted right into a blown down tree and was deader than 4 am the second she hit the ground.
My second year hunting ever. Ohio 7:05am Monday morning. Sitting on a log next to my dad and head something coming through the leaves. It walks out and stops.
me: “dad!! It’s a buck!!”
Dad: “I can only see its back end. I don’t think it’s legal” BOOM!!!! “Shooting time yet.......”
I was on legal shooting time by 3 minutes per the regulations
thats the best picture I have on my phone.
me: “dad!! It’s a buck!!”
Dad: “I can only see its back end. I don’t think it’s legal” BOOM!!!! “Shooting time yet.......”
I was on legal shooting time by 3 minutes per the regulations
thats the best picture I have on my phone.
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Bambistew
Well-known member
I remember my elk pretty vividly. I was 12 years old.
We packed in a camp via horses (as our family had done for decades) and hunted pretty hard for over the course of a few weekends. I had a chance at a bull opening day, but our rifle bolts froze and wouldn't fire. We packed out a few elk that other friends/family had killed the previous weekends and I was getting discouraged. At this point in my "career" I'd probably been in on 20 elk kills/packs over the last few years, but hadn't got a chance to pull the trigger.
It was the third Sunday of the season, we had made it up to the head of the draw we hunted, had lunch and were on our way back to camp to pack up and head out for the weekend. It was around 1pm, snow was falling visibility was about 200 yards. We made it bottom of a switch back on an old game trail, and came into a cleaning near the base of a hill where two creeks come together, On the hillside between the creeks stood 3 bulls. I remember tying my horse up, to a ancient, orange, giant stained snag laying on the ground tucked up under a large ponderosa pine... I was in the same spot about 5-6 years ago, and saw that same snag, its probably been there 100 years. It sure brought back the memory.
We were scrambling to find a rest to shoot, and settled on a small, rut rubbed lodgepole. I sat down, racked a shell in the chamber of my Remington M700 ADL in 243 win, with my dad coaching me on the shot... "Shoot the first bull," he says. I don't recall the size of the other bulls, I presume they were just small rag horns, the one I shot was a small 5x6 bull. I line up, and touch the trigger. As I recover from the recoil, I see the bull fall on his haunches and flip over and slide down the hill and slide toward the creek. The snow was about thigh high, so he didn't slide too far, but was buried with only an antler visible from our position.
We gather the horses, head over to him and decide that it would be better if we could get him across the creek to work on and pack up. I remember my dad riding my horse Jazz up to him. We tie a rope on the antlers. I remember the slack coming out of it, the elk getting hung up on a rock, and then come free sliding into Jazz's ass. He was not amused... but luckliy his bucking ability was on par with that of a Shetland pony, and the snow made it hard for him to get too carried away. After the rodeo was over, we coaxed him back into a lasso's length, and got the elk up to a good spot and took care of him and packed him home.
I regret that we didn't have a camera for any of our hunts. I don't think we took many/any pictures until I was about 17 years old. Sure miss those days, but am grateful to have experienced them.
We packed in a camp via horses (as our family had done for decades) and hunted pretty hard for over the course of a few weekends. I had a chance at a bull opening day, but our rifle bolts froze and wouldn't fire. We packed out a few elk that other friends/family had killed the previous weekends and I was getting discouraged. At this point in my "career" I'd probably been in on 20 elk kills/packs over the last few years, but hadn't got a chance to pull the trigger.
It was the third Sunday of the season, we had made it up to the head of the draw we hunted, had lunch and were on our way back to camp to pack up and head out for the weekend. It was around 1pm, snow was falling visibility was about 200 yards. We made it bottom of a switch back on an old game trail, and came into a cleaning near the base of a hill where two creeks come together, On the hillside between the creeks stood 3 bulls. I remember tying my horse up, to a ancient, orange, giant stained snag laying on the ground tucked up under a large ponderosa pine... I was in the same spot about 5-6 years ago, and saw that same snag, its probably been there 100 years. It sure brought back the memory.
We were scrambling to find a rest to shoot, and settled on a small, rut rubbed lodgepole. I sat down, racked a shell in the chamber of my Remington M700 ADL in 243 win, with my dad coaching me on the shot... "Shoot the first bull," he says. I don't recall the size of the other bulls, I presume they were just small rag horns, the one I shot was a small 5x6 bull. I line up, and touch the trigger. As I recover from the recoil, I see the bull fall on his haunches and flip over and slide down the hill and slide toward the creek. The snow was about thigh high, so he didn't slide too far, but was buried with only an antler visible from our position.
We gather the horses, head over to him and decide that it would be better if we could get him across the creek to work on and pack up. I remember my dad riding my horse Jazz up to him. We tie a rope on the antlers. I remember the slack coming out of it, the elk getting hung up on a rock, and then come free sliding into Jazz's ass. He was not amused... but luckliy his bucking ability was on par with that of a Shetland pony, and the snow made it hard for him to get too carried away. After the rodeo was over, we coaxed him back into a lasso's length, and got the elk up to a good spot and took care of him and packed him home.
I regret that we didn't have a camera for any of our hunts. I don't think we took many/any pictures until I was about 17 years old. Sure miss those days, but am grateful to have experienced them.
