I have just shared my first whitetail hunt on another post, but while sharing that the flood of memories that came back. The smells, that dreamy feeling, and the sounds. I was about 10 years old, my family owned and operated a dairy farm in West Tenn. It was Saturday morning, my dad, who was a Hard core Vietnam Vet. who never hunted out of a tree stand, set us up the afternoon before a spot in a patch of honey suckle. That morning, getting into our spot in the dark, the sounds of deer, to me were every where. Dad kept telling me to be quiet, I kept asking " did you hear that ". It was somewhat foggy, then ever so quietly, several does began to come into the cut silage field corner. Then dad said, "ok, there he is". I remember looking down the barrel of my savage bolt action .410 loaded with 3" Remington slugs, at then young bucks shoulder. The bead covered the whole shoulder. At the shot, my dad says, with an expletive "you missed him". I remember shaking uncontrollably while he walked the 25-30yrds were the buck had stood. Then with a wave of his hand, he had found hair. 75yrds later we stood over my buck, I was crying, felt like I was in a dream. Dad even had water in his eyes. He hugged me so tight. That was the trophy of a lifetime for me, now. I have killed much, much bigger deer since that morning, but looking back, with my dad now gone, that was and is the trophy of my life time.
Rest in peace, my dad, James Plunk, Vietnam Vet. Dad, you never let them win !