The first deer kill story for you

[Jack O'Conner]

Back to Harry's Winchester and my first deer kill:

My Dad liked to wait until late in the season to hunt mule deer. It takes deep snow in the higher elevations to push the herds down to the foothills and prairies .

I did not want to wait for weeks. Opening day I wanted to be out hunting. But Dad simply would not be convinced that he should change his ways. To make matters worse, Harry drove over in his Studebaker pick up with a decent buck in back that he shot opening day way up in the Bighorns. Seeing that buck made me feel even more anxious about waiting for Dad's so called schedule.

I handled Harry's carbine (unloaded) a dozen or more times each day. Imaginary deer were slain with imaginary bullets. The tension grew as school friends told me about their weekend hunts in the mountains. But Dad was not convinced we should drive over 75 miles just to get a deer. Stubborn but friendly describes my Dad.

Finally, Dad told me on a Friday morning that the next day we would kill a couple big mulies on Bob P.'s ranch east of town. I could hardly concentrate on my school work that day as I imagined all sorts of senerios!

Once again, I must call it quits for now and get some sleep. But I'll finish this soon-promise!

Jack

 

[Elkhunter]

Jack is like a big tease, Well get back here soon and finish this story.

BTW, do you fish too?

 

[ELKCHSR]

!!! T E A S E R !!!

 

[Elkhunter]

If he pulls this stunt again, I wont come back here and finish reading it.

 

[ELKCHSR]

!!!F I B B E R!!!

 

[YoungRobinHood]

Man now we got a 3 part story going. This must be a suspense story

 

[Elkhunter]

Maybe his first deer was a three part kill

 

[YoungRobinHood]

Maybe, or maybe his just wanting us to sweat it out

 

[ELKCHSR]

Maybe he is just a better story teller, or maybe he has to keep it short, cause that's all the time his wife allows him to be on the puter!!!

 

[trophy_killer]

My first buck.....

It was day 7 of our 10 day hunt in Idaho in 1999, my dad had already filled his tag on a 4x3. I would have shot it but from the distance it was I didn't feel comfortable, if it was now I would take the shot because it was about 275-300 yards. Well we kept hunting and didn't see very many deer, mostly just does. I was ready to shoot even a spike since they are legal and it was my first deer hunt. We then decided to concentrate on the low country for a buck since we weren't having an luck up high. On October 17, 1999 the deer gods smiled upon me. Dad and I were getting ready to crest a ridge when he told me he was going to sit about 100 yards to the right of me and the I should just go sit straight up from where we were. I got up and sat down where i could see the sage hills and a little bit of the big mountain that was in front of us. I was set up for probably close to an hour when I saw a doe feed out at about 100 yards. My heart started beating faster and faster and I had a gut instinct that told me a buck was going to follow her. Well out came another doe, and another and another and another. There was 5 does when I noticed another "doe". I don't know why but on that one I put my scope on it just for the heck of it. I looked at the head pretending there was horns on it and there was!!! My heart went from about 100 beats per second to about 1,000 in the blink of an eye. I tried my best to calm myself as I pulled the crosshairs down behind his left front shoulder. He then looked up at me, I held my breath and squeezed off a shot. The buck dropped and I looked over to see my dad running towards me. When he got there I told him the story as we walked towards my deer. We got up to it, I admired it for a minute then hugged my dad and thanked him for letting me experience this great sport that he loves to do too. Once all the hugs were done his exact words were "Well go ahead and gut him." I didn't know how since I was only 12 so he showed me exactly what to do with great instructions. I kind of made a mess and took a while to gut it (about 30-45 minutes) but I didn't care. I did everything on my own and felt like a stud. I then got out my tag and tagged him and we drug him about 2 miles to the truck. When we got back there my uncle was already there and when he saw the buck he gave me a high five and said congrats to me. He then helped toss it in the back of the truck. The buck wasn't huge only about 10 1/2" wide and he was a 2x2. Since that day I have been hooked. I have the horns from him on a plaque in my room right next to my door so that everytime I walk by it I can remember how much fun I had on that day and how nice my dad is to let me hunt with him even though he gets on my nerves sometimes.

 

[MEATHEAD]

Well I was 16 years old when I killed my first deer.
I started hunting in Ga. at the age of 13 and when I was 15 we moved to Tn. Having only hunted in Ga. I went back to Ga. to hunt. I having no one to go with me I took my girlfriend with me which happens to be my wife today.
We stayed with some friends that I still knew at the time.
I went over to a ridge that I had hunted in the past. It had a clear cut at the head of the hollow in which I had watch a nice small 6 pointer come out of the clear cut at about 150 yds. It was feeding towards me so I anixously waited for it to give me a clear shot. I was carrying a Remington 742 woodmaster in which I had worked all summer to get,it had a weaver fixed 4 power scope on it. Finally the deer stop broad side. I was shaking so bad that i made a real bad shot as the deer turned to run I started to unload my rifle. Hit the darn thing 4 out of 5 times I had shot,but he was still running. I sat down with disappointment thinking that I had missed it. I thought i had better go and see if i might have hit it , when i got down to the bottom of the ridge there was blood everywhere. I started tracking.I lost blood once and went back and started again. MAN I WAS SO HAPPY TO FIND MY FIRST DEER.Then I field dressed the deer and started dragging.

Meathead

 

[ELKCHSR]

Great stories guy's..
Common Jack, we are still waiting, very impatianly...LMAO!!!

 

[YoungRobinHood]

Maybe one day we'll get to read the rest of his story

 

[Whiskers]

Jack old enough to remember Studebaker pickup trucks, he probably has to wait for his memory to return, then he can only write while he is lucid. Which in dem real ol people don last long.

 

[trophy_killer]

LOL Whiskers.

 

[Elkhunter]

That must be it Whiskers....LOL

 

[ELKCHSR]

LOL Wiskers!!!

 

[Jack O'Conner]

I apologize for the long wait for the remainder of this story. But I went hunting west of San Antonio, Texas for axis deer. Then a favorite Uncle died suddenly. Its been a lot of driving for me these past two weeks!

Back to the hunt:
After school, Dad told me to "red up" my gear because we'd be leaving at dark thirty the next morning for Bob P.'s ranch. My gear was pretty light in those days and consisted of an Imperial sheath knife, Harry's leather cartridge holder, a short drag rope, and Harry's Winchester carbine.

I had trouble getting to sleep that night. I sneaked the Winchester from its corner location to lie on the rug right next to my bed. By reaching way out of the covers, I could touch its cold surface and ponder the coming day's hunt.

Dad awoke me early and we left our place in the darkness for Bob P.'s ranch. Less than 20 minutes later, we pulled off the paved road and drove about 6 miles through numerous gates. I was lost but Dad knew where he was going. We listened to the radio and a song about the Green Beret was playing from the station in Cody. We both liked that song.

Dad parked and told me not to slam the door. We loaded our rifles quietly. Dad carried his Savage with a peculiar spool magazine chambered for the famous 300 Savage cartridge. He whispered that he would lead me to a spot where I must remain motionless until he returned. He had me sit down in a shallow depression on the side of a canyon where I could see in three directions. Winter wheat lay dormant under light snow in the field below my position.

Dad vanished into the darkness as he headed uphill to make a circular sneak that would bring him back through the canyon I overlooked.

I awaited dawn with a smile of anticipation. As I faced west, the light seemed like a long time coming. Bighorn Mountains to the east blocked direct sunlight for some time but in the early grayness I could make out sage and juniper that dotted the hillsides.

A sound like a faint bleet fooled me for a moment and I expected to see a herd of sheep. But the sound came from a young doe that lay about 80 yards to my right. Just like Dad said, I remained motionless and waited. Soon other deer appeared and they cautiously fed along the edges of the wheat field. I watched for several minutes. One large doe rarely fed for long; she kept lifting her head to look around. No fawns were with her and I decided this would be my prize. My Wyoming license was for "any deer" but Dad had told me to leave the bucks alone this year. An agreement with our host.

The herd of about 15 mule deer fed closer to me as daylight increased. I slowly raised the Winchester and steadied it on my knee. The hammer made a loud click as it was thumbed back to full @#)(#. But the deer did not seem to hear it. The front sight centered the doe's chest as I squeezed the trigger.

The carbine jumped against my shoulder as the blast echoed and up and down the canyon. The doe spun around and leaped toward my position. But she lost her balance and toppled over. A glint of shiny brass crossed my vision as the lever was swung down and up as I'd practised dozens of times. The herd acted unsure at first but bounced away when I stood up. A sharp ka-POW blast came from up the canyon and I knew Dad killed one, too.

Soon, Dad walked over to my position and said "Where is the deer"? I pointed and we both walked to the fallen animal. Dad put his finger into the bullet hole and withdrew it covered with blood. "Nice shot, boy" he said. I'll never forget that moment.

Then we both knelt and Dad prayed over the deer. Our family tradition is to thank God for delivering the animal into our hands. A tradition I've passed on to my own children and shared with many friends.

When we returned Harry's Winchester, he remarked at how well I'd cared for it. Harry told me I could borrow it again whenever I wanted. That meant a lot to me.

I've hunted with many rifles over the years. But I still like a Winchester or Marlin carbine for hunting in the sparsely wooded foothills for mulies.
Jack

 

[Elkhunter]

Thank you Jack for the story. It is a good story and well worth the wait. I like the "Nice shot boy" remark by your father.

Sorry to hear about your uncle.

 

[YoungRobinHood]

The wait, just made the story so much better. Thanks for finally soming to finsh it though

. Sorry to hear about your uncle

<FONT COLOR="#800080" SIZE="1">[ 02-05-2003 14:14: Message edited by: YoungRobinHood ]</font>