Do You Recall Your First Deer?
 

Many moons ago my father had the nerve to place a 30-30 in my hands almost a full decade before I was eligible to get my driver's license. LOL! Heck, I was driving before that. Dad placed me behind the wheel on some dusty back roads here in MN and I never looked back. No, really, I never looked back. I was too scared to take my eyes off the road in front of me. LOL!

Back then we wore red flannel long sleeved button up shirts. Not these hi-vis fluorescent orange requirements they have today. He was at my side as we left the pickup and started still hunting down an old logging road. The Winchester 94 felt like a solid piece of steel for those little hands at the time. Dad always either followed or was at my right side. As we crested over this rise over-looking this over-grown clear cut, we still made out the outline of a deer... a Big deer! He pointed to it about the same time I spotted it. He didn't have to say a thing. My instincts kicked in.

As I raised the rifle to my shoulder, I recall seeing only a dot at the end of my gun as I was using open sights. This buck was about a hundred yards away as the crow flies. I pointed the rifle and yanked the trigger. The buck did a 360° spin, then a 180° spin. Suddenly my dad pulled the gun from my hands and emptied the gun at him as the buck hopped away into thicker brush. He yelled to me to go back to my uncle, who was with us on this hunt, and get more shells. Don't know why, but as I came jogging along, my uncle knew what I needed and started digging in his shirt pocket before I even reached him. LOL! You know what? Honestly, this just hit me and I NEVER thought of it until now... my uncle knew because of the many successive shots! Duh!

My father pursued with the Winchester 12 ga. with slugs. About half way back to the spot where I made the shot, I heard a shot echo in the distance. I knew what happened. As I got closer, I could hear him yelling for me. I saw where the buck ran and the blood trail was nothing like I've seen even to this day. Even Ray Charles could have followed it. When I caught up to my dad, he was drenched with blood from following the trail. He told me he caught up to the buck which was down and he finished it off. Like I didn't know. LOL! He was excited too I guess!

It took years for me to realize I really did get that buck. I had thought, being a kid and all, that HE is the one who killed him, not me. I know now though. When I fired, I hit the buck's neck which was why there was so much blood. The unbelievable part was his gutted weight, so I'll leave that out. Let's just say it was a very very heavy buck! LOL!

On a special note, this was an 8 point buck and thinking back and looking at the pic, he was in the upper 130's to lower 140's. You know what we did with that rack? Threw it away. We weren't into big racks at that time. Can't believe he/we did that. Back in the day, all the rage was how heavy a buck was and not his headgear size.

That was my first buck, shot off hand a 100 yards away in the neck. I can still remember it. Dad is gone now, but he's still alive in the memories we shared in the hunting woods!

So, do you remember your first deer? Let's hear it.

iSnipe

oh yea, like it was yesterday. It was the first time my step-dad agreed let me sit by myself while hunting with him. He told me he was going to walk up the logging road and that he wouldnt be back till the sun went down. I remember I was so scared to be in the woods by myself after dark. and after he walked away thats all I kept thinking about. Well it was about 15 minutes before sundown and I was starting to get nervous, when I heard something coming from a thicket about 50 yards from me. I raised my 30-30 and as soon as I saw it was a deer I pulled the trigger. It was such a bad shot that I thought I missed him because after he ran off I walked to where I shot him and there was no blood. When my step dad got back to me it was dark and I was so scared he would be mad at me because I thought I had missed it. But he found a small amount of blood and I was so excited. We followed the blood trail for a long time, there was very little blood so my stepfather thought I had just nicked him or hit him high, but then 20 feet ahead lay my first deer. It was the best feeling I have ever had in my life when I saw that button buck laying there, to me it was just as good as any 10 pointer. I dont think any buck I ever get will measure up to that first deer.

Boy do I remember my first deer!! I was 19 years old and borrowed a 30-30 Winchester to camp out with guys from work on paper company land in Adams county Wisconsin. The whole week before we left I was sick with the Asian flu and was I sick. I was still sick when we drove up from Ripon, Wisconsin. We camped out in a tent and that year it was -20º F. the first night. We slept with all our hunting clothes on, in the sleeping bags, camp stove and lanterns all lit to try to keep warm. The tent was right on a deer trail and there was steam coming through the wall of the tent from a deer sniffing me, LOL. Next morning I felt great. That cold knocked the flu right out of me. But I was really tired from not getting any sleep all night. (Excited on my first hunt and so cold we couldn't sleep well).

I saw literally hundreds of deer that first morning but no bucks. I left my stand (just sitting on a log) and walked a ways and there was this babbling brook with a grass bank on one side and tamerack on the other. I sat down and reclined on that nice grass bank and in minutes was sound asleep. I woke up to the sound of what appeared to be another hunter crunching through the tamerack so sat up. The biggest whitetail buck I've ever seen in my life (and to this day) appeared 40 yards broadside to me just on the other side of the brook. I emptied that 30-30 into the buck and he never even flinched. Just trotted up the hill like I never touched him. There was a nice blood trail so I slowly followed it up the hill about 100 yards where the deer laid dead and the friend that brought me deer hunting (and talked me into it) had his tag on the deer. He claimed the deer had been there overnight even though this was opening day. Well, it was the oldest buck you ever saw, huge and the rack was easily a 150 class buck or better. In any case, I now use a .300 win mag for whitetail hunting and no one tags my deer anymore. I could have made a big issue but at that time I really didn't realize what a trophy buck that thing was.

And (probably from guilt) he gave me some of the meat and it was so smelly and bad it was un-edible. I wished I would have bought a camera back then and taken pictures of the deer. I could still rightfully claim it was my first buck.

nice stories warbird and isnipe

I was a 15yr ole lad when my uncle placed me in one of his deer stands overlooking a purple hull pea patch on his farm here in Arkansas. About 30 minutes after daylight 3 does can out to mill around in the peas (bucks only that year). Just a bit later this little 5pt came calling and I let him have it with my open sighted Marlin 30-30. My dad never hunted so I am very lucky I had a uncle that was willing to take me. I still have the horns out in my shop. That was 30 years ago and I can still remember that day like it was yesterday. From that moment on I was hooked on whitetail deer hunting.

Doe season, 1981. Savage 340C in 30-30.

I was sitting on the top of a hill over-looking a big hollow. Sense something behind me. It was a heard of doe and the lead one is big. I decided to mount the gun and spin around in one motion.

I hit the deer a little far back. But my old man tracked that sucker until he found it. Came back to the cabin and got me.

We got the doe mounted. :)

Yep.. My dad put me in a ground blind sitting in a sleeping bag. I sat there for what seemed then like hours (it was probably only 30-40 minutes) until a nice little eight point walked by. At 10 yards I put the bullet a little far back but he fell after shot four went into him. I started shootin with the first shot and emptied my gun on him. I didn't know any better. I was 9.

Like it was yesterday!! I hunted all season and saw a few deer only does with my uncle. For the last week of the season he let me draw a stand for my self, I was 16. First day it was cold and raining, and the guy I took to teh stand was not feeling good. I rode him back to the club house and when I returned a dog driver was in the field where my stand was and he said that a big big just jumped over my bucket. I was a bit bumbed but I went and sat back on my bucket and in a matter of minutes a big doe came by and I killed her. It made me forget all about not seeing the buck. The next morning I was on a stand 100 yards from Rt 58, and it was very busy, I could not here at all. I looked one way down a path and then when I turned back there was 2 bucks standing in teh path. I shoot what looked like the biggest buck and he dropped with the pull of the trigger, the other buck turned and ran down the path a few yards before he jumped into the woods. When he turned and I could see the width I knew I made the wrong choice. My buck was a 19 inch 9 pointer and I am very pleased with it but the other deer ended up being a 22 inch 11 pointer that was killed by a guy further down the path. Great first season and in a couple of days I will see my first buck at mom's except it looks like rodulph this time of year with a red nose and bells around its neck.

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.

I was sitting on a log in the snow. Year was 1961. A spike came charging up over a ridge, saw me & froze. I dropped it broadside at 18 feet with a 12 ga slug.

I remember the first deer I shot rather well.
I was 12 and was now legal to hunt in PA, it was 1976 and I was using a .410 with punkin balls. I was hunting with my father and brother on State Game Lands. My father had permission to hunt some posted property that bordered the Game Lands, the land was all hay fields, but gave us access to the back side of the game lands, well in from the roads that everyone else would be coming from and we were hoping that the army of hunters would push the deer back to us. We took our stands on a gas line right-of-way. My father was about 70 yards uphill from me and I was on a shelf created from an old logging road that crossed the gas line. I plopped down on my hot seat as the snow began to fall. I had sat there about a 1/2 hour when out of the blue, a deer came streaking down the log road on the other side of the gas line and sprinted past me at full tilt and I could not get a good look at it before it was out of sight. When I turned back to where the deer had come from, there were 4 does standing there looking towards me. Then a deer came up in front of the does and he had horns! He stood there with his nose up in the air and then looked straight at me, he had 8-points, I was counting them and then put the bead of the shotgun on his chest and fired! He reared up and turned and started running up the hill towards my dad, I was of course calm, cool and collected (yea Right!) - I was yelling to him that I hit him and he's coming up to you Dad - and proceeded to stand in the middle of the gas line, so when he crossed between us, my dad couldn't shoot because I was standing in the line of fire. We were waiting the customary 20 - 30 minutes to follow the good blood trail that the buck was leaving, but with how hard it was snowing, dad was afraid that the blood trail would get covered up, so we started off following the blood trail. We went uphill about 100 yards and found where he'd been bedded down and there was a good puddle of blood, we'd bumped him because we hadn't waited long enough. We decided to wait a bit here because the snow had almost stopped and maybe he'd lay down again. We waited what seemed like an hour (probably 10-15 minutes), dad decided we should get a start on him because he was heading towards the road that everyone usually parks on and enters the woods from there and therefore he was heading right to them and we could lose the deer. We started tracking him again and had gone about 30 yards when we heard a shot from the top of the hill. Dad whispered to me "that was probably your deer, so we better step up our pace a little bit". When we reached the top of the hill, sure enough it was him - someone else had finished him off and tagged him and was dragging him off. My dad talked to him for a while, but to no avail he took the deer. About 4 days later, the guy stopped by our house and gave me the horns from the deer and a few steaks. He explained that he had waited for 15 minutes and didn't see anyone following him, so he field dressed him and that he'd just finished dressing him when we arrived and he told my dad that since he did the work of dressing him, it was his at that point. My dad told him that it was my first year hunting, etc. and I think that he must have felt a little guilty and that is why he brought me the horns. I mounted them on a plaque and have them hanging on the wall in my cubicle at work.

Now, the first deer I killed & got was in 1989, my second year hunting in Vermont. It was a 90 lb. 3-pointer - small deer, but to me it was a trophy. after hunting 13 years, I had finally connected with a buck! I was hunting the woods behind my FIL's house, he'd taken me up in the woods 2 times before the season began and showed me a few log roads to use to navigate myself around the woods (there's about 700 - 800 acres of woods). Well I walked the log road up to the top of the mountain and then back down the north side to where there is an intersection of 3 log roads. 1 leads out to a field, and the other leads around the backside of the mountain. It was about 9 AM, and I was a little tired from the walk up and down the mountain and decided to find a spot where I could see the valley below the road pretty good. I had just poured myself a coffee when I head a shot about a hundred yards or so away from me towards the field. I stood up and got ready in case whoever shot had missed and whatever they were shooting at would come my way. It was then that I saw what looked like a spike to me running with a front leg shot off. It was running through the valley and towards the log road that I was on, so I shouldered my .270 put him in my scope and decided that when he got on the log road, I'd shoot. He landed on the log road, I found his chest and shot. He spun around 180°, I pumped another round into the chamber, found his chest and fired again. He fell back down into the valley, kicked a couple of times and then bleated once and was dead. I made sure he was dead and then rolled him over to see it there were more than 2 bullet holes in him when the 2 guys that had shot at him showed up and said that they had missed him clean. I asked about the front leg and they said he was on 3 when they kicked him up and that they had found the tree that one of them had shot, so they knew they'd missed. I told them that this was my first deer (I never considered the one I'd lost as my first because I didn't take him home) and they congratulated me and went off on their merry way. I field dressed him and started dragging him down the log road back up the mountain as this was the way I knew how to get home. It was 9:15 AM. After dragging him up the mountain and back down the other side to my FIL's yard, it was 11:45 AM. My FIL and wife pulled into the driveway about a 1/2 hour later to find my little 3-pointer hanging in a tree and me exhausted standing there. They were happy and excited for me and we took pictures and stuff and then my FIL asked me where I'd gotten him. I told him up on Baker's place where the log roads intersect and he said, good - the drag wasn't too bad, then. I said "What do you mean, not bad - It took me 2-1/2 hours to get it back here and just about killed me dragging it up the log road!" He started laughing and said to me "See the brook over there that goes under the road by my mailbox"? I said yes, he than told me that it starts up where you shot the buck and is only about 300 - 400 yards from the mailbox to where I'd shot the buck and it would have been all downhill from there to the house! Funny now, but not then!
Here's the picture:

I killed my first deer, a nice 5 point buck, in November 1994, on the second Saturday of the rifle season at Yatesville Lake WMA.

I was using my brother's Remington 742 in .30-06 but had switched ammo to Remington 180 grain core-lokts after the spectacular "failure" of Winchester 150 grain Powerpoints (bullet totally disintegrated on impact) on a spike buck the week before (we retrieved that little buck after finding it by sheer luck).

My wife had accompanied me and was setting back against the tree to my left asleep. The buck crossed the ridge at about 8:30 after having been missed four times that morning (you could hear each shot getting closer). I awoke my wife when I saw the deer and scoped it, verifying it was a buck (I thought it was an 8-point). My shifting around and my wife's startled reaction was noticed by the buck, which made a dash for a nearby thicket.

Scanning along the trail through the thicket in front of the buck, I found a TV sized hole in the thicket a little over 100 yards away, and waited for the buck there. As soon as his chest met the crosshairs, I fired. He took three steps beyond the shot and stumbled, got back up, took one step up the hill and fell back down, where he rolled about 20 feet down the hill.

I was thrilled with my first buck, my wife was there to see me take it, my brother joined us thirty minutes later (he knew the sound of his own rifle). He is mounted on my wall in the living room, even though I have killed a number of larger bucks since then.

Quantico Marine Base, 1992 I think. Walked into the tree line off of a power line. I noticed the leaves were all sturred up. I put my custom made, dangerous as hell, climbing treestand my uncle gave me into an oak. After I saw a little deer in the thicket I waited. I heard something next to me and a big buck was right beside me. I waited for him to go behind a tree, drawed my bow, bent around like a pretzel to get the shot on my right hand side. Let the arrow go and it dissappeared into the woods. We had to go back to game check to get a two hour track pass so we were not late, then we found it not far from I last saw it!

Absolutely.. big doe w/ the smokepole!

Still looking for my first! This is my first year Deer Hunting and nothing yet. I still have a few weeks left in the season though, so hoping I'll get one.

nice story cant bleve you tossed out the rack but you cant eat them lol

My first was when I was 15 and hunting out of our family deer camp in VT. It was opening day and my father walked up the mountain and left me off about 1 mile above the camp. He continued up the ridge and told me to stay up on a big rock until he came back down. The rock gave a great view of a ravine and there was a deer trail coming through it. At day break the does started to come up the mountain from their feeding areas down in the valley. I watched several small groups come up and no bucks. Suddenly I could see a deer all alone and it has antlers. It turned out to be a 3 point but I was thrilled to get a chance. I was using a Remi 742 with a Redfield scope. The deer was broadside about 70 yds and I held firm on the heart area. I shot and the deer ran a few steps and tipped over. My uncle was a few hundred yds below me and came up after hearing the shot. He showed me how to field dress the deer and we both dragged it down to camp. That was about 46 years ago and it was the last time I needed help dressing out a deer. He taught me well.

Dec. 7, 1968 7:24 AM

15 yard running shot with a 35 lb recurve, cedar arrows and Bear sharpen-with-a-file broadheads.

Hand painted coveralls (from my dad's work), $1.25 dime store hunting knife, masking tape bow camo and my Sunday going to church rabbit fur lined gloves.

I certainly remember that deer.

Well Im 16 and just shot my ninth deer last night. But when I was twelve I killed my first deer on my first hunt ever with a crossbow. He was a nice spike. That got me hooked!

I was 16 years old and I was hunting on a buddy of mine's private land. I sat with him one day during the rut in a big shooting box. This box was located on a big food plot where deer crossed early morning. We sat for a while seeing plenty of deer but never could get a shot. Finally about 9:30 a deer came strolling into the field. We looked at him and thought he was a cowhorn spike so we decided to kill him. I put the crosshairs on him a pull the trigger. I shot him with a Sako .30-06 and he went about 20 yards and piled up. We got down and went to drag him up and noticed it was a broken up 8 pt. Tines were broke off everywhere and his left beam was snapped right after the G2. I have this deer's rack hanging on the wall to remember how i shot it and to remember my best friend was right beside me.

That's some serious, old school mojo there. Awesome story....

I was 15, and my brother was 13, and we were stalking with our bows near the river not too far from our house in Northern California on public land. We saw two young forkhorn blacktails enter the river jungle, so we split up to try to get around them and get a shot at one. As I was slowly stalking my way around , I spotted a huge 4x4 feeding toward me. When he got about 30 yards away, I tried to draw on him, and he spotted my movement, and jumped into the brush. Shaking and cursing under my breath, I looked up to spot another young 3x3 feeding across out in front of me, about 25 yards away. I was shaking so bad when I released, that it was a miracle the arrow went anywhere near him, but he went down about 10 yards from where I hit him, and it was all over!
I hollered for my brother, and his reaction was something along the lines of "holy cow, you got him"!

That was 33 years ago, and I have never been able to curb the addiction

My hunt went like this I was 28 years old, both my father and myself had never shot a deer. We agreed to meet 1/2 hr before light at our spot, I also told my dad that I would not wait a minute past. He was late as usual, and true to my word I walked to my stand. At around 630 am I could hear a deer walking towards me, stopping every now and then. All of a sudden I heard the deer crashing through the woods going away from me. I was disappointed to say the least. A few seconds later I could hear the steady cadence of someone walking down the logging road, guess who? He asked me what was going on, and I told him that a deer was walking towards me, till it either scented you or heard you then it crashed away. He said he was sorry he was late, and that he was heading to the edge of this swamp, and off he went. Around 1/2 and hour later I could hear a deer walking back down the same trail as earlier. Basically the same cadence as before walk a little then stop a little. Finally I saw his head sticking out of the thicket watching carefully. It seemed like an eternity till he stepped out giving me a shot. As he stepped out into the opening he pick up his pace to get back to a thicket on the other side, I let out a [I]Baaaahhh[I] and he stopped dead. I shot him broadside with a slug from my 870 and he ran 20 yards and dropped. I was so excited, that I got right down and ran to where he had dropped. I had no idea what to do next, so I called my friend who was running an excavator on a job site and he walked me through field dressing a deer over the phone. When he was all field dressed I used a rope to hang him up in a tree, and went to get my truck as it was cold out and I was exhausted. i backed my truck down the road, and sat in the warmth with my coffee listening to the radio. My father came out of the woods around noon time, and as he was walking to me he saw the truck and asked what I was doing. I told him I was cold. He asked me if I had shot at anything as he heard a shot. I told I had, and he asked what it was , so I told him it was a buck. He said what happened did you miss him? I said no I got him, and pointed to the deer hanging in the tree. He let out an "Alright cool" I think he was happier than I was. Any way my deer was a 5 point, and he field dressed at 160lbs.

Great thread idea!! And great stories.

It was the second to the last day of the 1993 Ohio shotgun season. I was 13 and my first year hunting. The morning turned out to be a rainy one but we went out anyway. About 1 hour into the morning I heard sounds coming from behind me to the right. As I look I see a doe trotting hard, then another, then another, then another. As I stood up in the treestand I see a buck trailing the 4 doe. When he gets perfect broadside to me, I let my 20 gauge Winchester do its job dropping him on the spot. I walk over to him to make sure he is dead then make my way to my stepdads treestand. When I get there his stand was empty. I head back to the building and there he was drinking coffee. He said he didnt want to deal with the ran anymore so he came inside. I said ok but could you handle the rain for a bit and help me get my buck? I have never seen a grown man jump up so fast.

As we get back there we find another hunter standing over my deer! After words are exchanged and the guy was ran off, we got my buck out of the woods.

I started hunting in 2002. It was late season in VA, almost in it's final days if I recall. I was sitting in a ladder stand I set up overlooking a patch of thorny bushes and mountain laurel near a creek. It was freezing and getting dark but I had a little extra light from a nearly full moon so I stayed out a little longer than usual. After awhile I saw and heard nothing so decided to get out of the stand. I walked a few feet and thought, I might as well wait five more minutes, so I sat on a nearby fallen tree.

I was sitting there sort of chilling when all of a sudden I heard some rustling up the hill from me. I turned around and there was this deer walking at a steady pace behind me. I thought it would see me because I was pretty much in the open but it gave no sign of stopping or running in fear so I let it get close. It came within 20 yards and I put the crosshairs on it's sweet spot and fired.

It leaped into the air and ran right past me and into the thickets. I heard it run a bit and then this huge crash. Being an inexperienced hunter at the time, I didn't know if I got it or not. I searched for a sign or body, but couldn't find anything. It was getting dark so I went home a bit disappointed. Before bed, my wife told me to go out early in the morning and look again because it was going to be absolutely freezing that night and if the deer did go down, the cold should take care of it. So at 7am I went out and looked again. To my surprise, I found a leaf with a nice pool of blood collected in it. I expanded my search and finally, in the worst thorns and thicket you can imagine, was my deer.

It was a medium sized spike. I couldn't believe the first deer I ever shot was a buck of sorts. Seven years and several more deer later, I am still hooked.

The thread title is quite stupid, as we all know the answer to the question. I mean who the heck does not remember their first deer.

Who pee'd in your Cheerios?

it was December 27th, 2008. opening day of ohio muzzleloader season.my grandpa set me up in the corner of some woods with fields to my left and in front of me. after about 2 hours, i saw what i thought was a basket rack 8-pt. broadside anout 40 yards away. i raised my muzzleloader and fired. the buck kicked out, ran 20 yards and rolled. i found my grandpa and when we walkjed up to the deer, it turned out to be an 11 point. it green scored 141. i had hit it right through the heart.

I was 13 years. My dad had a hunting lease south of Palo Duro Canyon in Texas. I didnt have a hunting license and never shot a rifle before but I asked my dad if I could carry his second rifle. He let me and away we went. I stayed several feet behind him until we made it to the top of the little mountain. We were glassing a small wheat field on the bottom of the other and I spotted a herd of mulies. He told me to stay put and he would try to bird dog them my way. It took him it seemed all day to get into position. He started banging on a fence post and the mulies all perked up and staired at him. I was ontop of the mountain and could see hima nd the deer just praying that they would make there way towards me. They finally spooked enough and sure enough they came right at me. I spotted the biggest buck in the herd and kept my eyes on him. They made it directly below me, stopped and twisted their heads back to look at my dad. I pulled up the 6mm and looked through the scope. Dang, that scope had two lines going accross and I didnt know which one to use. I decided to use the bottom line and fired.... nothing, not even a flinch. I pumped the rifle and put another round in the chamber, I aimed again and fired.... nothing, still not even a flinch. I pumped the rifle the second time, aimed still using the bottom line and fired.... nothing, the deer didnt move an inch. They were focused on my dad. I pumped the rifle the 3rd time aimed the same way and fired... still nothing. I started thinking, please dont run off. I pumped the rifle the 4th time and I was out of ammo. I reached into my pocket to get more rounds. I tried to pull the magazine out of the rifle and my hands were so cold and that I couldnt get it out. I pumped the rifle and loaded it single shot style. I aimed and this time I decided to use the top line in the scope and boom.... the buck dropped. It was about a 75 yard shot. He was little 7 point basket rack muley. I will never forget that hunt.