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There have been several "when I was a kid" deer hunting stories in the pump action rifle threat, so I thought to myself, why not start a thread for these stories.

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When I was 12 it was my first year deer hunting. It was 1979 and we hunted in the national forest and stayed in a camper.

I got to go to camp for Thanksgiving weekend. We didn't see anything those 3 days. The following Saturday was the 1st of December and it was the only doe day of the season. On the Friday evening before doe day we pulled the camper up and spent the night. We were up early that Saturday and came outside to several inches of fresh snow.

I still remember every detail of that morning from climbing that ridge to dad dropping me off at the top. He had a stand about 100 yards below where he could keep an eye on me.

Dad had sporterized a 93 Mauser for me but let me carry his Marlin 35 that morning while he took his Model 70 270. This will become an important detail soon.

As soon as he dropped me off I sprayed myself down with G96 Apple deer lure. I hadn't been there 15 minutes when a huge old doe and her fawn from the spring walked right on top of me. I centered the crosshairs on the big does chest and cocked the rifle. With the click all hell broke loose. They ran right down the hollow to dad where he busted the big doe with the 270. She started flopping in the snow and the other one started running back up the other ridge and I started throwing lead at her. I missed clean frown

At that point in my life watching that doe go down in spectacular fashion was coolest thing I'd ever seen.

That day is what made me want to be a deer hunter and I'll never forget it. It's one of both mine and my dads favorite hunting memories.

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I was born in 1970.

I'm still a kid.


Something clever here.

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Originally Posted by northern_dave
I was born in 1970.

I'm still a kid.


1971 here, so I guess I'm still a kid too. Good thing, since I killed my first deer in 2007. I didn't deer hunt when I was younger, so I'll just have to enjoy everyone else's stories.


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I was born in the mid-1950s and if you ask my Wife, I'm 16 going on 60.

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Looking at our deer population now, it's hard to imagine that
we didn't always have them, even though I witnessed it growing up. We just didn't have any deer to speak of here in this corner of the state. Not sure the truth of the matter, but I was always told that they were hunted to nigh extinction during the depression and didn't recover until stocking programs
that started in the sixties.

I believe we had no deer season when I was born, opened back up in 1969 or so? Anyhow, when I started hunting at 7 years old,
we called it deer hunting but it was more just trudging around hoping to see a track in the mud, and suffering cold weather with no suitable cloths. Anyone else remember cheap un-insulated rubber boots two sizes too big, with 6 or 8 layers of socks? You put on long johns if you had them, then your smallest pair of jeans, layering another pair or two of looser ones over them.

The only time we saw deer was in the Summer. We kept a pair of binoculars in the window, and if you saw one or two come out in the field half mile away, it was something to get on the party line phone and tell all the neighbors. "Guess what we just saw!"

What I remember most was the so-called stands - a scant few boards or maybe a hardwood pallet perched nose-bleed high in some huge old oak tree. Steps would be chunks of scrap 2x4 nailed on, or more commonly cotton picker spindles driven into the trunk. The spindles were usually better to climb, but completely unforgiving if you slipped and hit one with the inside of your leg. I have never liked heights, so that was terrifying to me. I remember climbing one on the top of a deep hollow, that the spikes circled the tree as you went up.
You started off on the high side, but by time you reached the platform you'd added another 20 feet to your elevation by the ground under you sloping down and away. If you fell, probably 50 feet down. Screwed up my courage and climbed up into that monstrosity, rifle slung across my back - none of us had yet thought of a pull up rope. About the time I had gotten thoroughly cold and stiff, the wind came up and the big oak started swaying violently. As scared as I've ever been climbing down from there.

Lord, it's a wonder any of us survived the dumb stuff we did.
I could go on, but that's enough of a start for now.

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I may have shared this one before:

I was hunting one morning when I was 13 or so and managed to shoot a whitetail doe about 170-180yds from my stand. It dropped right there with a shoulder shot from my .243win. Within a few minutes, crows were circling the carcass. To my disbelief, one flew down and lit on the deer, where it began pecking on the exit wound. As the deer had fallen lengthwise in relation to me, hitting the crow in the body would wind up hitting the deer also. So it was a headshot or nothing. grin

The old-timers at the hunting camp got a big kick out of it all.....

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Ok,I'll give it a whirl. When I was a kid hunting season was cause for little or no sleep the night before opening day. Small game,big game,it didn't matter. Deer season was bigger than Christmas. School was a buzz with anticipation.

Being from a rural community,school was made up of primarily hunters. Talk of boys graduating from their "starter rifles" to grown up models was always in the air. Some of the boys started with sporterized Krags and Springfields. The rifles their older brothers transitioned through. Rights of passage if you will. 30/30s,32 Specials, the 270, and the bad boy of the bush the "Ought six" were all well represented. A 13 year old seated behind the controls of the family "06" was always held in high regard.

First timers were all ears when the older boys talked. The first buck stories always held their attention. In those days you had to wait to be 12 to hunt. After completing the hunters education course. No mentor program then. It meant something to become of age to actually go out with the clan. Fathers,uncles,in-laws,out-laws. This is the memory of my youth that drove me to a complete and unabashed love of the sport. Pac boots,Woolrich coats,gangs of hunters taking stands (not in trees),and organized drives. Groups of hunters circling the bed of a pick up to count the points of a buck,and recount the drive he came off of.

The local Grange hall put on an all day breakfast the first day. Pancakes and sausage was the order of the day. The conversation in that building was nothing short of electric to a 13 year old. More deer were shot in that room than the woods I'd bet. All ages were represented there. I do miss it.

It was a special time.I was 13. A brand new M94 30/30 in hand. The year before,my first season,it was a single shot 20ga and slugs. Now I was in the big time. I felt I could feed the world holding that Winchester. And that flame hasn't died yet. You all know what I'm talking about. A love of hunting and the traditions that surround it. It isn't so much a single story from when I was a kid,but the whole time and place.


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Some great stuff here.. Enjoy every bit of it..

I started deer hunting before hunted ed. required.. I remember as 6 said the talk in school before deer season opened.. Some of the guys had doe license for that year.. I didn't and wouldn't for a couple years..

My first season was with my grandfather.. He had a model 54 .30-06 with factory iron sights.. His ammo was left over stuff from the last 30 years hunting.. No two bullets looked the same... He had shot lots of bucks, but the ranges were short, so about anything would do..

As I got into school the boys talked of the rifles they had for the coming hunt.. A very few hunted with slugs, mostly til they got their first rifle..I had my dad's .32 spl. carbine.. He wasn't a serious hunter, but my grandfather had been.. I remember some of the guys of course had .30-30's.. The .300 Savage was very popular in those days.. One of my good friends was using a .222 for his first season.. Later he switched to a .30-30 and an original Springfield in 06.. He also used his dad's 721 .270..

After I was about 15, I started using my grandfathers 06.. Later had it custom stocked, and put a good scope on it..

Some of the guys I met while hunting, became good friends.. As I grew up.. One had been in heavy fighting in WW2.. He always carried a handgun.. Sometimes two.. He shot at least one deer with a 1917 .45 ACP.. He told me he had killed 23 bucks with his Remington pump in .35 Remington.. By the time I got to know him pretty well, he had bought a 721 on close out from a local store.. It was in .300 H & H.. He shot 4 or 5 bucks with it them had it chambered to a wildcat similar to .300 wea. At times he still carried his .35.. He was one of the few, maybe the only one, that killed a buck each fall.

Another good friend was farmer.. His choice was a model 70 in .270.. During the summer he kept the 'chucks out of his pasture with it.. Come deer season, he was a deadly shot..

Another good friend used a .30-30, then a nice prewar model 70 .30-06.. He and I made many hunts together.. When the .264 hit the market, he bought one and killed quite a few deer with it.. He also used a 760 with open sights in a .270 when participating in drives..

He built the first elevated tree stand in the country.. A little house in the top of an oak tree.. Now they are common.. Times have changed, most of the old guard are gone.. Deer hunting has changed also.. Those days we hunted anywhere we liked.. Now most of the country is posted, and leasing is becoming the new thing.. Sad, but true.


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When I was a kid.......aw man, how I remember my first hunt. We drove from the Youngstown, Ohio area up to deer camp in Clearfield County Pa. Interstate 80 wasn't in yet, so it was a 5 hour plus ride on the Friday after Thanksgiving up through the mountains to get to camp. All the little towns on the way were buzzing with activity as the Orange Army headed for the hills. Little motels, bars and restaurants, and all the little gun shops were very busy. Monday morning found me behind camp on a windswept ridge, guarding a centuries old deer trail up the side of the mountain. Sure enough, here came a spiker working his way up the hill. My old .32 Special barked twice, and the deer kept right on running-up and over the top of the hill. Dad was up high in another hollow, but old Bud, one of the old timers from our camp came over to check on me. I told him I missed, and he's like "what do you mean you missed? You shot, where's the buck?" Bud was a curmudgeon in the first degree, and had no use for kids, especially ones that shot at deer and missed. I was respectful of the fact that he was a very good hunter, scared to death of his no BS attitude, and pizzed as all get out at him for being such a danged crab.

It would be ten years before I filled my first tag, on what was to be Dad's last hunt. Sadly, he died the following spring.


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Originally Posted by northern_dave
I was born in 1970.

I'm still a kid.


79 here, so definitely a kid still.

I remember bow hunting with my dad when I was 3 or 4. I got sleepy and almost fell out of the tree, so he lowered me down by the hood of my sweatshirt and had me walk bad to the truck, about 3/4 of a mile. I sat there til dark surrounded by deer that I was just sure knew why we were out there and were going to get their revenge at any second. dad walked up after dark and wondered why I had been crying, he laughed when I told him. when we got home my mom didn't laugh at him making me walk through the woods that far. his defense was he could see me for the most part half of the walk back, didn't fly with mama too well.
But I survived, and it must have made an impression because it's one of if not the earliest memory I have I can remember. Mom still gets flustered at dad when I bring it up, it's hilarious!


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Quote
I believe we had no deer season when I was born, opened back up in 1969 or so? Anyhow, when I started hunting at 7 years old,
we called it deer hunting but it was more just trudging around hoping to see a track in the mud, and suffering cold weather with no suitable cloths. Anyone else remember cheap un-insulated rubber boots two sizes too big, with 6 or 8 layers of socks? You put on long johns if you had them, then your smallest pair of jeans, layering another pair or two of looser ones over them.


This kinda mirrors my experience. We started having a few deer and a season in the mid-sixties, but I knew no person that knew anything about deer hunting, so it was a long, slow learning curve until I killed one. We hunted off the ground and ran them with dogs, and not knowing much about deer trails and such, seldom saw a deer. I also knew nothing about how important keeping still was, at the time, but I slowly learned. miles

Last edited by milespatton; 02/04/16. Reason: clarify things

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My first year deer hunting, I didn't go. Deer numbers were so low that the state of Minnesota closed the season in the half of the state where I lived. Again. It really didn't matter as there were no deer in most that part of the state and the season was frequently closed. The following year the season was closed state wide so did not go then either.

Finally, got out when in my mid-teens. I had a great year as I saw tracks two of the four days I hunted. Today I am pretty sure the second set of tracks were made when the first were made a week earlier but I was in a different stand so they were a different deer to me.

First buck was shot the following year. We were on a "bucks only" program to build up the deer herd. My stepfather's sister married into a family with a lot of land in southern MN. They invited us to hunt with them that year. It was a shotgun zone and hunts were done as drives.

We drove several areas that Saturday with only a couple of deer seen and one shot at. Sunday had us hitting the same areas as it was hoped deer pushed from other properties would end up on ours.

The second drive was a woody fenceline. 4 drove the woods and two posted the end. It was really no different than pheasant hunting and it was not uncommon for one to load a birdshot round first it was more likely to see a pheasant than a deer. I was a driver and was pushing through the thickest part as I was young and new.

As I stepped over a downed tree, I almost stepped on a deer. If it would have broke and ran right then I would never have shot as identification would have been impossible. Instead, the deer just hunkered down lower and expected me to walk by. That gave me time to see antlers and I shot it with my 20 ga 870 and Winchester Foster slugs before it could change its mind. It was "the Old Man" of the area with 8 pts. Looking back it was probably 3 years old but back then a deer did not live long and bucks even less.

I was pretty proud of that buck but it caused some hard feelings with others. Bucks were nearly as rare as unicorns and having a kid and a guest shoot the local monster did not sit well with some. We weren't invited back for a couple of years but that changed when we set up our own camp "Up North" and began inviting some of them up. Deer numbers took off up there faster than down south and we became the preferred destination.

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First year deer hunting in the mid 50's . I was using a borrowed Remington pump,32-30. When actuating it the magazine was on a helix and the whole thing moved somewhat.

This was in the PA mountains in Clinton County. My father put me on a stand and told me do not move from there until he came back for me. There was a lot of snow and it was cold ,cold , cold. The stand was under a large pine tree,and after a bit , a clump of snow fell and landed on the action of the gun. I brushed it off as well as I could,but there was still snow down between the barrel and magazine.So I got close to blow it off.

Too close,my upper lip stuck frozen to the barrel.There I was with a gun stuck to my face and the longer it stayed the more it froze. I finally got enough guts to yank it off and a good part of my lip stayed with the gun. I was bleeding quite bit and I didn't care if I ever shot a deer. It was a couple hours before my father came back and if he said stay,you stayed.


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My first recollection - I think the year was 1973. My father (Whelen Nut) shot a buck and he and my uncle (pictured) thought it would be pretty funny to get my brother and I to "help find" the already downed/located deer.

They covered the buck in marsh grass and kept insisting the deer had to be right in the general vicinity. It wasn't until I tripped over the deer that I "found him"... I recall being quite proud of myself to find dad's deer for him. grin

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Scott -

I didn't know they had cameras back then! !

laugh laugh laugh






KOOL pic and great story!


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They closed Arkansas deer season state wide in 1944. All through the early '50s my grandad cruised the roads of the International Paper companies game preserve in Columbia County every Sunday afternoon looking for deer. It was big news when he saw tracks cross the road.

In 1959 they had an experimental season there. One day. Grandad took me that Saturday after granma filled my pockets with baked potatoes fresh out of the oven to keep me warm. I was placed under a large Oak tree and told not to move. Grandad eased on into the woods.

Around 9AM I saw grandad slowly walking back toward me when suddenly to my right there was a shaking of bushes about thirty yards way. First deer I had ever seen. I was so stunned I didn't even raise my gun. Pa wasn't happy.

It was twenty two years before I hunted deer again. Took my limit(whatever it was that year) for the next thirty two years.

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Originally Posted by jwall
Scott -

I didn't know they had cameras back then! !

laugh laugh laugh




Me either! laugh


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Originally Posted by JPro

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Stone cold killer, right there.


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my 1st rifle season was in 1972 i was 14 hunted with a 12 gage with slugs, only saw does and no doe permits, I started going up with my dad the year before, helping in the deer drives, back than sometime there be 30-40 guys, and we drive mile squares! those days are long gone, well the next year, i got a any deer permit, my grandfather loaned me his 742 30-06 with iron sights, I shot at 3 does running by missed I dont think I had ever shot that rifle before, but it was on for my gramps! after i looked for blood, i went back to my spot on the oak ridge, was feeling down cuz I missed! looked up and a med sized doe was troting, by me at about 30 yards, boom knocked it over the edge, by the time i eased up to the spot I saw the deer go over a hill. there was blood but also guts, i followed the trail a ways and saw the deer standing about 40yrds looking at me, I started to shoot thru the shoulders but fig it would ruin them with the 06, so being a kid with great eyes I put the bead on her head, boom, she lost her mind! I dressed her out as my dad had me gut 3-4 deer for others the 2 seasons before, to learn. had a hard time draging her to camp as the rope kept slideing off what little was left of her head! i was a proud Kid tho! :DI have not missed a deer season since! grin

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