Alright, I'm sure that this has been a topic before but let's hear about your first deer. Mine was when I was 11 years old on opening day of the season. I had sat in my tree stand all morning and needed to eat. At noon I walked out back again with my grandfather and just before reaching my stand a spike was standing in the middle of the logging road. Boy was I nervous. I aimed my New England Firearms single shot 20 at the shoulder (or so I thought) and fired. A lucky backbone shot was all she wrote. Wasn't pretty but got the job done.
My first deer was with a J.C. Higgins 30-30 leveraction at 50 yards. 6 Pts and looking the right way...away. One very scared and shakey thirteen year old. Found the trigger and put the crosshair just back of the shoulder and right at that elbow. He took 4 good jumps for cover at the shot ....and whump!!! .........of the bullet strike. I've been addicted ever since.
My first is too long and funny to tell. I wrote about it in my book. BUT, I was 14 and thought I knew it all until that little 4 pointer walked out of the swamp in front of me. I stood in total shock and awe and watched him walk away. I eventually came to and much to my surprise (I found out later there where other hunters in the area) the turned around and came right back the way he went out. I had him for sure. I took careful aim with my Montgomery Ward 12 gauge, from the hip, and touched her off. From 25 feet away, I thought I had missed. The smoke cleared and I gave chase. Found him dead about 40 yards away. It was a long time before I would tell that story truthfully. At least now when I shoot, I can hit em farther away with a hip shot. :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:
1974. I was 9 and shot a little spike with a Winchester 37A .410 and slug. 12 yards, sitting on top of a cap rock on the farm back in WV. Mid-lung hit, he ran maybe 20 yards and went down. Nice thing about hunting on the family farm, everything was a downhill drag.
It was opening day 1973 near the little town of Spencer Indiana. I was hunting with my 870 12 gauge loaded with Brenneke slugs. About 7:45am had a buck chasing a doe back and forth on a ridge and the buck quit chasing her to come over and check out my Pete Rickard's "Original Indian Buck Lure" I had put out. He would stop ad paw the ground throwing dirt over his back like a bull. I finally shot him at about 40-60 yards. At the shot I lost track of him and never did see him drop or run off so I just sat there in my tree not knowing what to do. About a 1/2 hour later I heard something out in front of me almost a 90 degree angle from where I had shot at my buck and here come this nice buck walking straight at me. Now I really don't know what to do, do I shoot only to find out the buck I had already shot at was lying dead somewhere or do I not shoot only to not find the buck I had already shot at and miss the chance at this nice buck. I chose not to shoot. The buck laid down in a thicket and after so long I said heck with it and got down to see if I had indeed hit the buck I shot at. I walked over to the spot I had marked and found nothing, no buck, no blood nothing. I was surprised the other buck didn't bolt and run so I went over to the area he bedded down and there was my buck Stone dead. Very big bodied (estimated over 300 pounds since I have since then shot many bucks and had them weighed) nice 8 point. As I was tagging my buck my brother shot just 200 yards away and I seen another big bodied buck with nice horns run through on the ridge next to me and then I heard crashing in the under brush. I went over to my brother's stand and he told me he had shot a nice 10 point and I knew right where it was. That morning I shot a big 8 and my brother shot a big 10 (his was estimated around 250 pounds) and that is how my deer career started.
Where are all the deer camp stories ??????????? Why are you not sharing? Come on in the waters fine ........
This is not my first deer, but it is my first good buck. It was a real cold day, one of those days where every inch of every tree is covered with a glass like film of ice. Dad didn't feel good and opted to stay back at the house, I headed out to the stand in the dark. When the sun came up it glared off of every twig, I could barely see fifty yards. After an hour in the stand I thought I saw some branches move and strained to see what caused it. In a few seconds I saw it, It wasn't branches moving, it was antlers. I shouldered my 1100 and drilled a hole through his shoulders. After draging him out of the woods to the edge of the field, I left him there and headed for the house. When I walked in the house dad was making chicken soup and asked, "Whats the matter are you cold?", And I answered, "nope, I'm sweatin my ass off. I got a buck down in the field. Are you gun'a come help me toss him in the truck?" Dad slipped his boots on in a hurry and shut the soup off. This is the only pic I have of that deer.
