My First Whitetail Deer
Aug 30th, 2007 by admin
Story from 1982:
Growing up in southern Missouri and living in the country made hunting and fishing second nature. I was hunting small game as soon as I could hold a gun in my hands. My father is an avid sportsman but he prefers football and other sporting type events to fishing or hunting. He taught me at a young age the basics of fishing and gun safety. He was never excited about the adventures outdoors though he always encouraged and supported me until I was old enough to do it on my own. Hunting and fishing are still my biggest passions.
I will never forget my first deer hunting experience. When I was 14 my dad agreed to teach me how to shoot and handle the deer rifle. The gun was Winchester Model 94 lever action rifle in a .30-.30 caliber. There was no gun that existed as cool as that gun. I saw John Wayne use the same style gun in many movies as a child. After my dad was sufficiently comfortable that I could handle the gun safely and accurately it was time for deer season. Missouri has a 9 day season in November that is usually right in the middle of the rut. I was so excited that I didn’t sleep for days. I had read every magazine I could to know how to hunt deer.
The area my parents live is Southwestern Missouri and is mainly oak forests and fields used for raising cattle. My farm has a nice size year round creek. I had hunted this area and neighbors farms since I was in fourth grade and knew where the wildlife was located.
At the river bank I put the trash bags around my feet and legs. Then I began the slow walk through the water trying hard to not wear a hole or tear the soft plastic trash bag. Knowing if I got leak it would be the end of my hunting that morning. November in Missouri can be cold at night and warm during the day. Wet feet or pants would cause the end to that hunting trip. I was lucky and made it across dry and safe. I hid the bags under some logs to pick up later and started to go look for a place to hunt for my trophy.In my reading I discovered that ridges by food sources were the best places to hunt and proceeded across the alfalfa field to the ridge at the top of the field where I intended to get my deer. I centered myself on the ridge in the middle of the timber and waited for first light.As light filtered into the woods every bush or small tree looked like a deer. I sat still and waited patiently for the deer to appear. When it was light enough to see well I realized I was not in a good spot. Picking my spot in the dark I never realized I could not see thirty yards because of the under brush. Slowly and quietly I stood up and tried to decide where to move. Years of squirrel hunting taught me how to move quiet and slow through the woods. At the top of the ridge was a small clear cut where the neighbor cut wood. I moved toward it as slowly and quietly as possible.
If you have ever tried to move quietly in oak leaves you know it’s very hard but I managed using rocks and stepping quietly. As I approached the clearing I saw the white flag of a deer as it ran the other way over the ridge. Busted, I quickly raised the rifle. It was at this point that I realized I had not put a shell in the gun. Following my fathers orders you didn’t put a shell in the gun until you were ready to start hunting. I loaded the gun and walked over to a stump against the tree edges and sat down to wait.
As a child I was very impatient and over active but put a fishing rod or gun in my hand, I was as patient as they come. Now at this time of my life I had never heard of a deer scents or calls. I did know they would smell you if you were up wind of them. That was all I really knew about deer hunting.
I sat there for two hours and waited patiently. I was just getting tired and was thinking about moving to another spot when I caught movement out of the right corner of my eye. As I patiently sat and watched the clear cut area trying hard to see to the far corners a deer had crept up on me. Not twenty yards away on my right was a deer and it was a buck to boot.
If you are a right handed person you know it’s almost impossible to shoot directly to you right without turning your body. Here was my first trophy and I couldn’t move for fear of scaring him away. As I watched this deer out the corner of my eye, he sat down. Now when I say he sat down he sat as no other deer in all my years hunting since sat. Like a dog with his front legs out straight and his haunch bunched up on the ground. He was sitting there slowly letting his antlers brush back and forth in the branches over his head. This was my chance. In one quick motion I raised my legs and spun my body to the right on the stump now looking right at him. He stopped playing and looked around carefully.
Luckily for me my parents were generous to me and had bought me some camo clothes so I was invisible except for the bright red hairs that peeked out from under my camo ball cap. Finally he settled down and began to play with the branches again. I raised the rifle and remembered everything my dad taught me. I slowly pulled back the hammer and as I squeezed the trigger the hammer fell with a thud, nothing happened. I never put a round in the chamber! If you have ever hunted before you know any sound in the woods is loud and that hammer falling sounded like a tree breaking in half to me.
Luckily the sound was louder to me than to the deer. So here I was on my first deer hunt with my first buck right in front of me and no bullet in the chamber. Slowly I lowered the rifle and started to slowly leverage that old model 94. If you have ever owned or seen one of those guns then you know this is not a quiet or easy process. Several times in the process I had to stop and wait while the deer looked around and I knew at any minute he would stand up to run. Finally I had a bullet in the chamber and the hammer back. I was holding a loaded cocked cannon of a gun and my heart raced.
Raising the rifle to take aim the deer began to get fidgety and I new my time had run out. The deer stood and looked around moving just enough to prevent a broadside shot. I lined up on his neck and slowly pulled the trigger. Today I know a .30-.30 round is not really a big round but to a 14 year old boy it sounded like a cannon going off. I looked over and my deer was gone.
At first I thought I had missed then I realized he was lying on the ground in the brush kicking wildly. Most kids that age I think would have shot again but I was not that smart. I put my gun down and ran to the deer on the ground grabbing him by the horns and wrapping my legs around him. As I wrestled this dying deer I remembered my knife and grabbed it with one hand from the sheath on my side and began cutting his throat. The deer as I figured out later was paralyzed from the neck shot. By cutting the throat and artery he died quickly.
I stood up very fatigued yet excited from my hard work. For the first time I noticed his antlers. Amazingly the whole time I watched this deer I never counted his points. He was what we call a basket 8 point buck. One of the antlers was kind of deformed and had a hole clean through the center. I let out a down south YEEEEE HAAAAAA that could be heard for miles. A habit I have not lost in the 23 years of hunting since my first deer and I don’t care if my friends think it’s funny.
Being a self taught deer hunter I knew now I needed to go clean my deer. I was just not sure how to do it correctly. Grabbing my gear and rifle I began to drag this deer back towards the river bottom. If you have dragged a deer before you know they stick to the ground like glue. They are especially hard to drag when they have not been gutted after feeding on alfalfa all night.
A couple hours later I got my deer to the river unfortunately far up stream of the shallow crossing. I didn’t have the energy to drag this deer down to the crossing. It had warmed up by then and I was sweating profusely in my cold weather gear. Still more than a mile from the house and a river to cross I proceeded to wade across the river pulling my deer behind me floating its enlarged body across the river. I soaked my coveralls in the cold stream and it felt wonderful from the hot walk dragging my deer. The water was cold but being fourteen I was immune to its effects. As soon as I had my deer on the other side of the river I took off the extra clothing and grabbed my empty rifle to walk up the hill to the house.
Arriving in the yard, I hopped in the truck and drove down the field to the river. Being a big kid at 14 I grabbed my deer by its rack and pulled it into the bed. The returning hero then proceeded to the house to announce my success as a hunter to my family. When I pulled into the yard dad was waiting having heard the shot and the truck drive away. Everyone came out to admire my deer and to congratulate me on my success. I felt like a king even though he wouldn’t make any trophy books. It was my trophy buck.
Mom and dad convinced me to get into dry clothes and then fed me breakfast before returning to my kill in the truck. My dad and I drove down in the field and hung my deer off a tree limb to clean. Before we left the house I grabbed the latest copy of Field and Stream. Inside it had detailed instructions with pictures on how to gut my kill. It had now been a full five hours since I shot my deer and he was getting ripe. Unfortunately I didn’t read the article carefully in my excitement and proceeded to push the knife in deep. I punctured the stomach and the smell was awful. Cleaning your first big game animal is a big job and my dad wanted nothing to do with it. I was bloody from head to toe and dad made me ride in the back of the truck to the house.
In Missouri after the deer is gutted and tagged its time to take the deer to the check in station. Happiness overwhelmed me as people walked by the truck checking out the deer waiting to be processed. My father looked very proud of me smiling and chatting with the neighbors as they walked over to visit. In the days following I would tell the story of my first deer to every person who would listen. I looked forward to going to church and school to brag about my big buck.
