The first deer kill story for you


New member
Sep 28, 2002
Athens, TN
What was your first deer kill story. Mine was when i was eight years old during muzzleloader season. I had been huting a couple of times before but never had shot one. Dad picked me up from scholl eary to get in the woods in good time. We walked to the tree stand on the food plot. We set there for a good hour and a half, the we heard rustling in the pine trees. I got real quiet and dad told me to get the gun up very quietly. I did and a yearling walked out at 150 yds i tried to put the scope on it but before i could shoot, it walked back in to the pines the same way it came in. I was real bummed and got down on my self, the i looked back up and there stood the same yearling but this time there was two yearlings and one great big ol' doe.I still had the gun up so i put the gun on the biggest doe. As she stood there eating i could help but shake and i was sitting on dads lap and he held me steady like any dad would. I took the safty off. And fired, boom great hit she ran into the woods. I was just 8 and thought i missed, i thought every deer dropped in its tracks
.It was getting dark so we hurried to find it. It was no where that we could find so i got sad
. Dad reassured me and told me that he would come back tommrrow and look for it. So i went to school the next day bummed out. About 10:30. the came and said my ride was here. I thought ride i don't have a doctors appointment. I got to my mom and we walked out of the school and i asked why did you pick me up? She said that my dad called and told her to pick me up and bring me to my nana's and papa's house. I got there and there was the doe laying in the yard. My face lit up like the christmas tree in New York City
. I ran up and hugged my dad and said thank you. And that is my first deer story.Well you heard mine. Now tell me yours
Well, YRH, I'll try to give you the short version.
I was older than I care to admit when I took my first deer. It was the first year that I had ever hunted deer, and the first time my Dad had hunted them since before I was born. I had anticipated the season for a long time and was like a kid waiting for Christmas.

Opening day finally rolled around, and Dad and I took up our positions on a local farm. About 5 minutes into legal hunting time, I heard Dad shoot--I jumped so much that if I had been in a tree stand I probably would've fallen out.
Dad had gotten his first deer in over 20 years, and I didn't see a thing all day.

When we got back together he told me his story, and told me that he also saw what he thought was a buck go trotting past while it was still too dark to shoot. The next morning, since he had been successful so quickly, we decided that I'd sit in his spot and see if I could get a shot at that buck. About half an hour after shooting light, I caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye; it was the buck! He trotted past me from behind, then made a right turn and trotted right in front of me, about 10 yards away. The rut was just about on, and he was obviously in pursuit. He never slowed down and was gone before I had a chance to get my gun to shoulder. My gun was resting in my lap and I just wasn't as ready as I should have been.
I had this weird "I can't believe what I just saw" feeling and was naturally disappointed in myself for not getting a shot. "Why didn't I grunt at him? I should have whistled to stop him!"

Well, the next day I was back in the same place. This time, though, I was wired for sound! I was ready to shoot on short notice. Once again luck was with me, and the buck came trotting by about 1/2 hour after sunup. I was keeping an eye for his approach, and when he made his appearance I was ready. He ran in from behind, just like before. Right after he made the right turn in front of me, he trotted behind a large tree and I raised the rifle. When he trotted out from behind the tree I got my crosshairs behind his shoulders and squeezed the trigger. The sheer momentum of his movement carried him about another 10 feet from where I shot him, then he just piled up! I honestly believe he never knew what hit him.

The whole experience that morning was like a dream sequence in a bad movie, up until I saw him go down. I never really had a chance to get excited or shaky; it was like watching someone else. I simply did what I had rehearsed in my mind and got very lucky that the deer did his part.
After he piled up, though, I started shaking like a leaf. I couldn't stand up, and my heart was pounding in my chest. I felt weak, and I even had trouble working the bolt on my rifle.

I don't think I'll ever forget how that day went or how it felt. He was a small 8-pointer (4x4 for you westerners), but I'm prouder of him than any other deer I've taken, except one. But that's another story.

Was that the short version? Sheez.
Nah, it's a great just gotta get all these stuffy old "been there done that" fogey types to loosen up a little.
Sometimes us older folks get a little too tied up in silly stuff and forget the important things in life. Your Dad and Flipper helped remind me of that back in November.
I think its an interesting topic. My first deer my Dad, my younger brother Jeff, and I were hunting in Poe Valley outside of Lewistown Pa. I had been hunting for 4-5 years, and had never seen a deer in the woods during deer season. My Dad was a big time shooter. He used to go to rifle matches all over the state. On the first morning of this season we were posted on the side of the mountain. Jeff and Dad were above me, and probably 100 yards apart. I was about 150 yards directly below my Dad in a pretty steep hollow. We had gotten in to our spots along time before daylight. I was sitting under a big pine tree watching down the hollow. About 8:30 or so, I heard Jeff shoot, just one shot. I was kinda pissed at first cause it was Jeff's first hunting season, and I thought he killed a deer. All these years and I hadn't seen a deer, his first trip and bang. About 2 minutes later I heard Dad shoot. He fired twice, I thought well that's that, Dad don't miss. I got up and started up the side of the hollow to go check out the action. As I crested the top of the hollow. There stood a 4 point, about 50 yards away.I was shooting an ol 03A3 30-06 still mostly military (Dad was sporterizing it for me) had no scope. Just a set of Williams peep sights. I shot he took about 10 steps and stopped I shot again, and he just stood there. I shot again he stumbled but didn't go down. I shot again and he went down. I walked up, and he was still breathing so I shot him again. That put his lights out. I hit that deer in the heart lung area 4 times, the last one was a neck shot. I was shooting 180 grain soft nosed bullets. I was so excited. I gutted him the best I could. I didn't want any help. I said I will drag him. Dad said I will carry your gun. He put his sling over his shoulder and carried my 06. We hadn't gone very far, when another buck came down the mountain stopped and looked at us. Dad thru up my 06 and click. OOPS I fired all 5 shots and never thought about or told Dad the gun was empty. Jeff never saw the deer. Dad wasn't too happy about that. By the way, that shooter that traveled the state winning all them 30 cal league shoots. He missed that deer at 10 yards. Jeff shot a hole in his ear. That was my first deer and the picture of me and that buck is still in my living room, and that little Y rack is still hanging in my reloading room, with lots of others some bigger, but none as memorable.
It was my 14th birthday and I was sitting up in a tree balancing on a branch when I heard something behind me and turned my head just in time to catch a glimpse of a deer stopping behind a tree about forty yards away. I couldn't see it's head and it didn't move for about ten minutes. My neck was so sore from holding still with it twisted around as far as it would go it felt like it was on fire, but I was determined not to move. Finally the deer bolted out from behind the tree on a dead run. I saw it was a buck and just when it jumped over a log in a small opening about forty yards away I shot. I had a .257 Roberts with peep sights. It ran about ten more yards and stopped where all I could see was part of it's neck. I shot at what I could see and it took off running again.

I climbed out of the tree and took a look but couldn't find any blood or hair, so I started walking in the direction it had gone and I found some scuffed up leaves. It looked like the deer might have stumbled, then I saw some more scuffed up leaves and about twenty yards ahead the deer was laying there dead. I had hit it thru the lungs with the first shot but missed the neck shot. It had seven points---eastern count. Pretty good birthday present!
I remember it was a cold November morning. I had been hunting the hills of N.Y. behind our house for years and never even saw a buck. The sign was there and I was persistant. Someone told me to go and leave my knife and rope at home and I would surely see one. Well that is what I did. I was perched up in a tree on a branch for hours and had just finished a cigarette and a cup of coffee when I saw some movement out in the laurel. Sure enough it was a deer, better than that it was a buck, a spike, but a buck none the less. I remember after fireing my shotgun that I was so exited I nearly fell out of the tree. It ran about 100 yards and layed down once it hit the thicker laurel and was easy to find with all the blood that was there. Well I had a small picket knife on me to gut it with (I only left my big hunting knife home) and the work began. My brother-in-law was with me and the two of us struggled the rest of the day getting my first deer out. I remember I felt like I was on top of the world.
It was 1978!
I still have the little 3X blacktail rack on my wall. After quite a few years of empty tags(as is typical of Washington) A late predation hunt had been put on down in the Packwood area because of the number of deer present that year..
I was on my way up the side of one of the mountains in that area, without any sign at all when right in front of me, a beutiful little deer was standing, I had hiked up the hill in 18plus inches of snow. There out of no where was a nice little buck. I shot my first one cool, when I got him gutted and started dragging him donw the hill, the first thing that deer did was to slide down and poke a hole in the back of my leg..Lesson learned, keep to the side of a buck when sliding them down a steep snow covered mountain side..LOL..
I shoulda mentioned in my post, that when this hunt took place my little brother Jeff was 12 years old. First year he was old enuff to hunt in Penna. He is now 45. Boy is he gettin ole.
My first deer that I brought home was the fall of 2001. I was invited to Pennsylvania by Shaky here on the board. I went down and he had 3 deer blinds built for 3 people to hunt in. The line of sight was 17 feet high and had a good view of the field. Well after a couple of incidents early the first morning I heard some rustling in the trees that was behind me. So I turn around and see orange in them. Then to the north of me I see other movement . It was a deer. The drivers had pushed it out. So I put the crossharis on it. It was going staight away from at a slow pace. The crosshairs (I swear) was on the base of it's neck. I squeezed the trigger. Bang it stops ,stumbles around and falls. It is down.

Well after I quit shaking I go to it and I have my first deer.

Here it is
And still probably your best trophy to date, its these ones we seem to remember better, usually, than the big ones...
I grew up in southern CA and there were more hunting opportunities than one might initially guess. My father didn't hunt anymore and my grandfather had passed away. Something inside me told me that I had to hunt. But there was no one to teach me so I had to learn on my own.

I saved up the money earned by mowing lawns and coke bottle money to buy a Marlin model 25 bolt action .22 from Sears. I used it to hunt rabbits, squirrels and crows. So I was at least a little acustomed to hunting small game.

In the summer of 1961, I went on a backpack trip with the Boy Scouts. We camped at Winter Creek Campground, in the Angeles National Forest, about 5 miles north of La Canada. In the morning I saw several deer watering at the creek. So that fall, just before my 14th birthday, I borrowed the old Wichester model 1894-30-30, with iron sights that had rested in the closet since my grandfather last left it there.

I backpacked back into the same place and setup before dawn about 50 yards from where I had seen them come to the creek before. The deer cooperated by being in the same place at the same time. I kept reciting in my mind "settle down, settle down". I calmy put the sights on the rib cage of a little buck and calmly squeezed the trigger. He just stood there and at first I thought that I missed. Then he took a couple of unsteady steps and fell.

I had been calm to that point but after the buck fell, I started shaking. I couldn't stop shaking for several minutes. I wasn't sure what to do next. No one had ever shown me how to field dress an animal. But I had the general idea from cleaning rabbits that you had to get what was inside of his belly, outside of his belly. I probaly made a mess of it but I did the best I could.

It took me all day to carry the deer out whole and gave it to my mother. I spent that night at home and I was so excited that I didn't sleep. I went back in the next day and got my camp.

To this day I regret the fact that I had no one to share the experience with.
I made sure that when my son got his first deer, I was there.

My Dad and Grandad took me huntin' with them since age 8 but was not allowed to carry a rifle until age 14.

One of Dad's friends, named Harry, had recently bought a Sears Ted Williams 30-06 with a scope because of middle age eyesight dilemma. Dad arranged for me to borrow Harry's well known 30-30 Winchester. By well known, I mean to say that Harry's Winchester had downed stacks of game.

The night Harry brough tit over, he showed me how it worked and gave me a short lecture in safety and shooting. Then he handed over the carbine and a worn leather cartridge box holder containing 5 rounds.

That evening I put brown shoe polish on the leather cae until it looked new. Each cartridge case was shined with Mom's silverware polish. I rubbed her lemon furniture polish on the walnut stock and sewing machine oil on the moving lever parts. I was really proud to borrow that Winchester!

That night, I had it in bed with me but Dad made me lean it in the corner of my room.

I'll finish this another time, got get some shut eye.
I came from a non hunting family and lived in a large city many hours from the mountains, My Dad had been thru world war 2 and never wanted to see another Gun in his life
When I was 17 I was moved by my job to the far south of the South Island, One holiday weekend I went for a camping trip and stayed in a camping ground,the guy who ran the place had some funny skulls and antlers nailed to the wall of his garage and I got chatting to him he told me they were fallow deer {I thought they were little Moose
} He said if I was interested he would take for a hunt so having nothing better I agreed, At 4.00am next morning he kicked my tent and said lets get movin we drove in his old Jeep about an hour into the Blue mountains while he explained about deer there habits and stuff,We parked up and headed up a gully in the dark with me falling over every second step untill we came to a clearing, The wind he told me was good so we sidled up just inside the bush edge for about 30 minutes.
just on day break. I saw my first wild deer 4 fallow hinds, just little dark smudges feeding on the edge of the clearing about 60 yds away, as it got more light I thought awesome what long necks they seemed to have
I could see there ears and noses flickering all the time they started to get a bit nervous and old george said ok lets nail one, I was luying prone and sighted on a deer and almost pulled the trigger out of the gun, the smallest hind a yearling dropped like it was pole axed, old george was thumping me on the back I didn't tell him it was a different deer to the one I was aiming at
but great neck shot anyway, george showed me how to dress it out, man there was a heap of yucky stuff to come out
and how to make a pack out of the animal to carry it out, I was so stoked I didn't even notice the weight all of about 60 lbs back the Jeep I was hooked

Oh the Rifle was a .22 hornet.
Yep, as Elkhunter said, great stories and keep them comming people...Thanks all for yours..
My dad was an avid bow and rifle hunter. I participated in several succesful elk and deer hunts as early as 4 years old. Needless to say I had the fever something bad when I finally turned 12.

2nd day of Idaho's archery season. Hunting both elk and deer in unit 66a within a stone's throw of the Wyoming line. Dad and I were hunting rolling sagebrush hills dotted with quaky pockets. We were moving through a thick pocket when I heard crashing up hill of me. I looked up and saw a deer bouncing right towards me. I plucked an arrow from the quiver, nocked an arrow, and looked up. The deer was 30 yards and closing at a fast walk. I came to full draw as the deer stopped at about 7 or 8 yards facing me. I put the 20 yard pin at the base of its neck and let fly. I heard the arrow strike. The deer whirled around and started running. I ran after it yelling "I got it! I got it!" I wasn't about to lose it!

It ran about 30 yards and did a nose dive. It was down! I started yelling for my Dad. He finally got there. He was all grins for my success. He then pointed out it was a small deer. So small it had spots. But it had nuts! I had got a trophy buck!

After cleaning it out, I threw it over my shoulder hiked back to the truck. I have pictures somewhere. What a riot, me all grins and all 25 lbs of deer.

Thats my story.
See YoungHood, it was not a bad topic, just took a liitle for people to see. There are some good stories up above and hopefully there will be some more.

Forum statistics

Latest member