I guess I was about 15 years old. My dad dropped me off at the edge of an oatfield with a Remington 700-.270 and told me to shoot a deer. So, I guess I did...
There was a cleared sendero along side the road that headed back into the brush. When they had cleared thay bit of pasture to plant oats, they piled up rocks around the perimeter, so I camped out on one pile near the edge. A doe crossed the sendero behind me so I turned around and started watching her. A little freak horn 5 pt follwed her out and well, no mystery here, I blasted him. And that was my first deer. Not real exciting, I guess.
Later that year, my dad and I went up to New Mexico to hunt elk. Ironically, I haven't been since although I had the chance 2 years ago. This was...20 years ago? We hunted hard for 5 days and never saw nothing until on the final day, an elk came barrelling down into this little valley and was headed up the other side and we let loose on him. My dad hit him 3 times and I hit him once and he finally dropped. That was pretty exciting.