Last year, Sunday, January 6th was not your typical cold, wet January day. The sun was shinning and the temperature rose to the 70’s. I asked Justin if he wanted to go hunting that afternoon and he said “definitely”. And, in order to get my kitchen pass for the day all I had to say was “but honey, Justin really wants to go hunting this afternoon”.
I decided to hunt one of the most productive stands during the year. We settled in and waited. At approximately 5 pm I saw movement through a thin section of hardwoods and I could tell it was a deer. I tapped Justin on the leg and told him to get ready; that there was a deer in the opposite field. I slowly raised Justin’s gun up to the window of the shooting house, he stood up and leaned over to get in position and now it was all up to him. His face was inches from mine and I could hear his rapid and unsteady breathing in my ear. Or, maybe it was my own rapid and unsteady breathing that I heard. He searched through the scope to find the deer as it moved through the hardwoods and out into the field. As the deer moved closer I could tell it was a small buck. I whispered to him “make sure you put the crosshairs on his front shoulder”. I whispered again “make sure…BANG!” The deer stood still and looked around. He missed it. The first thought that raced through my mind was “why didn’t I buy him an automatic instead of the single shot .243?” So, I carefully moved the gun out of the window, Justin sat in my lap and I pulled out a new bullet as the deer slowly walked out into the green field. I removed the spent cartridge from the rifle and clinched it in my teeth so that I wouldn’t drop it on the floor of the shooting house. My shaking hands finally maneuvered the new bullet into the barrel of the rifle and I placed then gun in another window of the shooting house. Justin and I were both shaking nervously with the excitement of having this deer walk out into the green field within about 30 yards of us. He slowly and gently took the gun in his grasp, leaned over, found the deer in his scope and prepared for another shot. This time the deer was broad-side; and easier shot than the first. I once again whispered my experienced hunter fatherly advice. This shot had different results. The deer fell to the ground. Unfortunately, the deer managed to stand up and run off, but I heard the deer fall just on the edge of the hardwoods. Justin, the mighty hunter and Davy Crockett want-to-be, grabbed his pocket knife and said “Let’s go get him, dad. I’ll finish him off with my knife.” Well, I usually don’t have to look long and hard to find those “teachable moments” when raising children and this was no exception.
We found the deer right where I heard him fall. He was an 8 point that weighed about 165 pounds. Justin was quick to point out that this deer was as big as any deer that I had killed. Thanks son, for pointing that out.
I have hunted my entire life, but I have never lost that excitement of a successful hunt. I will also never forget the feeling of excitement, accomplishment and jubilation I felt when I killed my first deer. There is only one hunting experience that can surpass that feeling. For me, that hunting experience occurred Sunday afternoon, January 6th, with my son, Justin. And, I hope that it is an equally memorable experience that he remembers with his dad.
