October 8th:
Youth weekend and my middle son, nearly 14, was still working on killing his first deer. This was his 5th season and he’s had several very close calls, but hadn’t had it all come together. We focused on a farm near home where we have permission to hunt. There’s a woodlot there that often holds deer and ahead of the season, we set up some stumps to sit on, a rough blind and weed whacked down a shooting lane through the tall golden rod, etc. that grows in our shooting lane.
We got there early in the morning and enjoyed a nice sunrise. Saw two deer. One crossed quickly at the end of the lane, 180 yards away. No good shot. The second crossed a second lane to our right, also quickly and when we were still distracted by the first deer. Jeez… Good to see the deer, but we felt rusty.
We came back in the evening and before long, we saw a deer slowly walking through the brush at the end of the first shooting lane. My son got set up on his sticks and followed the deer all the way across the lane, waiting for a good shot. It kept a little brush between us and between the narrow openings for a bullet and his own shakiness, he just didn’t feel confident taking the longish shot. I was proud of him.
Within seconds of him saying he didn’t have the shot, I looked right and noticed a doe standing in the second lane (this lane goes off perpendicularly to the first). As soon as I saw her, she saw us and froze, looking right at us, 100 yards away. What followed was one of those classic standoffs, where the deer and I were looking at each other and my son was stuck looking in another direction, afraid to move. I kept saying, “stay still, stay still, I’ll tell you when you can move.” He would need to pivot 90 degrees and more importantly, move his shooting sticks as well, to get set.
After roughly 72 hours of standoff, she finally turned her head to look the other way. “Now, quickly!” He managed to make the turn and got down on the rifle, as the deer looked back at us. She was still facing us, right on the edge of some thick brush, with her head lowered, blocking a frontal shot. She was also looking more nervous. She started to turn to her left and I said, “when she gets sideways you’ll have a quick shot opportunity. Get ready.” She kept turning, heading back into the brush and I was convinced he wouldn’t be quick enough, but then I heard the rifle boom and she disappeared.
Neither of us saw where she went, but now we could see a doe standing 10 yards to the left of where she’d been, looking freaked out and healthy. Was it her? It was a little tortuous watching her, wondering if he’d missed and this was the same doe, just standing in the open now. My son wasn’t sure either. So, we held off and she eventually ran off.
We were relieved to find, when we walked over, that his doe had dropped right on the spot. We never noticed the second one until after the shot. He was so happy and I felt a tremendous rush of pride and relief!
After field dressing, I sent him back to grab our foam pads from where we’d been sitting, so we could begin the drag. He came back with a smirk, reporting that a nice 6 pointer was standing in the other lane now, calmly watching him… Eh, we’ll come back for him next year!
