Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Deer Hunting Your Most Memorable Deer

In May of 2010, my Wife & Son both completed their hunter safety course. Deb did it, basically just to help Doug through the learning process.

Fast forward to November 2010 !





I was sitting in the double tree stand with both of them, for their first hunt & first kill !

AWESOME feeling.

Long story short since I"m in a hurry.

By far my most memorable is doe that hangs on our wall.

She would come to my wifes stand, and snort and run all the deer off. Wife tried for 2 weeks to figure out how to put an arrow in her. No luck.

I told her to hunt my stand and for the next 3 weeks we played cat and mouse until I finally quit hunting and started watching from a distance with glass... on the right day, went in with a dummy, she watched the stand something horrible. Went in mid day, put the dummy in the stand,think it was only a stuffed sweatshirt or such... not full on... and put a stand on the offside.... Left and came back a few days later on the right wind and hunted in the evening.

Deer came in like normal, she did too, ran em all off and snuck back watching the "stand" and "hunter" and staying out of bow range and in the brush.... which happened to be about 10 yards in front of me. When the time was right, and I figured she was smart and old enough... I drew and barely made it to anchor when she figured it all out, and her head and eyes turned and got saucer big... about the time I let the string slide from my fingers....

Unfortunately she was so good, she lurched forward a LOT, but not enough... it was a paunch hit and I hated that, but I let her go a bit and bed up like they all do. Had to sit for 2 more hours until dark. She watched the stand the whole time about 60 -70 yards away. 30 minutes or so after dark I started down the ladder as stealthy as I could. Made it to the ground, left the bow and all there and snuck away... even though it was the wrong way to camp... and made it out, checked her every few hours with a spotlight until a storm came in. After that checked again, no eyes. Laying dead in the first bed.

I've shot bucks. Large enough to make most folks around here look anyway, but they were all easy.

This was by far the most challenging, and as such had her mounted as an honor. The back cape is still in the loading room too, tanned. Means more to me than the biggest few bucks I've ever taken with a bow. Or gun. Period.

I was in my Junior year of high school and we had finished up picking corn just before the start of the Wisconsin November gun season. Granddad, Dad, his brothers and my brother and I were all prepared to make the trip to northern Wisconsin to hunt out of Granddad's cabin. A neighbor was going to milk and do chores while we were gone, but slipped and fell on a patch of ice and broke his leg.

Dad didn't trust anyone else to work so said he would stay home. Dad was a hard worker and always put the family first. He loved that time in the north woods hunting with family members. I slept on that decision and it didn't set right with me.

After I finished up my chores I went to the house for breakfast. I told Mom how I felt about Dad's bad luck and said I wanted to stay home so he could go. Mom said she couldn't take time off from her job, but would help the best she could. Brother said he would stay home, too and Lil' Sis said she would help. I told my brother to go because he might not get many more chances to hunt with Granddad.

Dad came in the kitchen door, saw us sitting there with big smiles on our faces, paused for a moment and then asked what was going on. To this day I will never forget the look on Dad's face.

I hunted with some high school buddies for a couple days, but didn't have any luck. Friday after Thanksgiving day there was no school so had plans to meet up with some buddies after morning chores to hunt. While milking our dog was barking so I looked out the barn door and saw 4 deer off in the distance moving across a picked corn field between two wood lots.

Finished milking, turned the cows out, scraped the aisle and stanchion platform, backed the manure spreader in place and ran the barn cleaner. I had deer on my mind now, pulled the tractor and spreader into the door yard and grabbed my Savage 99 250-3000.

Spread the manure load, stopped and began banging on something with pry bar, (don't remember, the tines or apron chain)looked up to see a 10 point buck standing at the edge of the woods with three does. Slowly, moved to the tractor, uncased the gun, went around to the front of the tractor, deer were still staring at me, knelt down and placed a hand hold on the suitcase weights, sent a 87 grain Hornady down the tube. Deer disappeared.

Found the buck about 25 paces inside of the woods. Wrestled the buck onto the spreader tongue and tied him down with some baler twine.

Had a great story to tell the returning deer hunters.

Easily my favorite - my boy's first buck years ago with a ML! Crazy snow storm buck!

Here is another very memorable hunt. This time it was the day dad declared war on the whitetail deer.

It was the first day of season and we were hunting on a dear friend's property in Ashe County NC. We arrived just before daylight and hiked in slowly just as the gray dawn was breaking.


We arrived at my hunting spot first so I dropped off and got into position while dad went on up the ridge toward his back of the Holler haunt. I remember looking at my watch and it was 7:20 AM.

Dad had no more than passed out of sight near the top of the ridge when all Hell broke loose.

One shot went off then another followed by a third. I was beginning to wonder if he had walked up on some redneck's moonshine operation and a firefight had broken out.

I waited about ten minutes and then started up to where dad was at.

When I got there I found this:







Dad had bumped into these two does on the way up to his hunting spot. His first shot had hit a limb and the second one killed the bigger doe. Shot three took the smaller one.

After the picture taking session I told dad to relax while I went back to the truck for the big meat pack. Its about a mile down off the ridge and when I was about 250 yards from the truck a big BOOOM! echoed down from the Holler.

I retrieved the meat pack, stowed my rifle, strapped on my Browning HP and hiked back up the 8% grade to where dad was.

This is what I found when I got back:



Dad had caught this rascal slipping around the far side of the Holler across from where he had killed the does and put him down with a 175 yard shot into the neck area.

By the time we got all the deer dressed and packed out I had made four trips up and down that steep ridge and had got to hunt all of ten minutes. That was rough on a fat man like me.


Oh, the rifle he used was a SIG SHR 970 topped with a B&L 3000 3-9 x40 slinging the Federal Premium factory load with the 130 grain Sierra BTSP.

The ol man really put you to work that day, huh? He sounds a lot like my own Dad. I hope he gave you a tenderloin or two!

I've got 2 that kind of stick out. The first was a doe. I got up on opener to see that it was snowing sideways. There was a field of standing corn that usually had deer going into one of the corners of it. I went to that corner and got far enough into it so that I could still see the ditch at the end of the field and leaned up against some corn stalks. It wasn't too long before I saw movement. I waited for the deer to pass behind some willows to shoulder my gun (12 gage 870 with a vent rib). Dropped the hammer at 14 paces. Don't think that the deer knew I was there.

The second was the biggest 3X3 I've ever seen. I set up on a river bank about 100 yards from where I got the aforementioned doe. It's never been a great hunting spot, but I've sat there a lot because you can see out into a neighbor's CRP that used to be the site of numerous deer soap operas before it came out. I was watching 3 does that looked like they might be heading towards our property, but in no hurry. They stopped for a while and appeared to be looking at something. A small bush in the direction that they were staring turned into a huge rack. I never got a count, but I'm pretty sure that it was at least 5X5. The does backed off as 2 smaller bucks approached. The bucks moved into a low spot where I could no longer see them, and I could hear a fight ensue. The large buck headed away from our fence line. More antlerless deer joined the group, or more likely they had been there the whole time and I hadn't seen them. One of the smaller bucks and 5 slicks jumped the fence and hit the afterburners. I didn't have good shot. I knew that there was at least one buck left, but not where he was, so I backed out had lunch and cut a couple of pickup loads of firewood. I came back later, and started working the willow choked ditch on our side of the fence line. I saw the buck at about 10 yards. I didn't have a shot because of the tall grass and willows. I froze; he didn't seem too concerned, but got up after a while to get a better look. I shot him at the base of the neck.

Hillbilly- mine was one I saw killed but not by me... but my Dad. First, let me say, he is undoubtably the greatest man I know or likely ever will know. I started tagging along with an old long bow when I was 8 yrs old. Dad is 85 now and in all his life I doubt he has killed more than 5 or 6 deer. Always a good hunter, he just never seemed to be able to "close the deal" on game. He did back in 1966, though. Our group of about 8 guys hunted out of a tent camp a few miles west of Hayward, Wis. It was the end of our 9 day gun season that we pushed a large track of land to the East of a little lake called Sugarbush. This nice heavy eight pointer escaped the drivers and tore across a wide open marsh and went through the ice in a tiny slough. There he was swimming in circles but he couldn't pull himself out to solid ground. That's where Dad enters the story. A few of us gathered on the rim of this frozen swampy opening in time to see Dad hiking- sometimes breaking through ice in knee deep water. Dad and the buck were a few hundred yards from us as we watched the drama unfold. Later, we found out Dad didn't have a rope so he sloshed back to one of our guys…borrowed a length of tow rope and made his way back to the struggling buck. I am not fibbing when I tell you he made a lasso and tossed the loop around the bucks antlers and hauled him up on the solid ground- thereby saving the beasts life. When Dad dropped the tow rope he expected the buck to highball it out of there but the buck just stood there, a few feet from Dad- apparently exhausted or in shock. This would be a good time to tell you that Dad never had much of a rifle of his own but that year he was able to purchase a new Remington 700 in .270 Win. He topped it with what was then a state of the art 3X9 scope ready for a shot way out yonder. When the deer didn't run, Dad figured he better do something so shot him from inside 10 feet! I can still remember watching the whole thing as a "kid". I asked one of the older guys observing the show, "Dad isn't going to shoot him is he….?" and before I could finish the question the buck dropped and the sound reached us a split second later. The work began for all of us getting that big boy out but what a treat to have been there. I wish I had pictures to share but the only ones I have are in my memory of that day…mine and the rest of the camp that watched it with me.

Has to be my first. The day was November 7th 1987. I was 18. My dad and I were members of a dog club and even though we had been members for a couple years, I had never gotten a shot. I don't think I had ever even seen a buck in that club before that day. On the first drive of the morning we went way back into the swamp and I was dropped off in a beautiful spot, nice open woods. I set up my dove stool and sat down for the long wait. The other standers couldn't have been gone for more than 5 min when I heard leaves crunching to my left. I turned and there was a beautiful 8 point strolling straight towards me maybe 50 yards away without a care in the world. I was dumbfounded, the dogs hadn't been let out yet and I doubt if the next stander had even been dropped off yet. I tried to slowly raise my shotgun and pivot towards the buck but he either saw me, heard me or smelled me. Without warning he spun around, blew and hauled ass back where he came from. That was that. I was sick. I didn't see another deer during the morning drive. When the drive ended the other hunters razzed me to no end when they heard my story.
For the 2nd drive, we again went deep into the woods on another tract of land. I was dropped off in a spot so thick I couldn't see 20 yards. I heard several shots during that drive and right towards the end, a deer came bounding by me. I thought I saw spikes but it was moving so fast and it was so thick I couldn't swear to it. There were no does shot in this club at that time so I just held my fire. Within a few seconds two shots rang out just down the line. After the drive was over, it was clear that the next stander had clearly seen the spikes and killed him. I was REALLY bummed now! The only two bucks I had had opportunities at and I blew it both times.
Normally that would have been the end of it for the day. Very rarely was there enough time left in the day for a 3rd drive. We got back to the club shed a little earlier than usual and there was about an hour of daylight left. Somebody suggested going down the road a little bit past the skinning shed and turning the dogs loose to see what would happen. I really wasn't interested. I was tired and frustrated and I really didn't see us getting any action that close to the club shed where so much activity went on. My dad said "Come on, we might as well go with them. Big boy might be hiding back there." I gave in and we strolled down the road, maybe 200 yards past the shed. As we walked, Dad said a verbal prayer. He said "Lord, please let Mark kill a big one so he can redeem himself and get those other fellows off his back." He laughed and I just grinned. We stepped into the woods maybe 40 yards off the road and stood by a creek. We didn't even carry our stools and I had only the 5 shells in my gun whereas normally I would have a pocket full of shells and a 9mm S&W 659 strapped on my side. They turned the dogs loose and they didn't seem to be too hot on any trails for the first 30 min. Dad and I just stood there talking about my two previous encounters. All of a sudden the dogs got pretty excited and it sounded like they had jumped something. A minute or two later 5 shots rang out deeper into the swamp. Then 2 or 3 more shots a little closer. The dogs were going insane. Dad said "You stay here and I'll go down the creek aways and maybe one of us will get a shot." A few minutes later I heard splashing in the creek and Dad yelled out "He's coming to you, get ready!" Within seconds a big buck jumped out of the thick stuff along the creek and nearly ran me over! At a range of feet rather than yards I threw my Benelli 121 SL 80 up and popped off three shots as fast as I could jerk the trigger before he was swallowed by the thick stuff. In my youth, I thought it a neat idea to load my gun with a load of #4 buckshot for the first shot followed by a load of #1 buck, then a #0 buck for the 3rd shot, a #00 for the 4th and a #000 for the final shot. The deer hadn't even flinched to my first three shots, so I didn't know what to expect as I plowed into the thick brush. I went maybe 40 yards until I came out into a little open area and there was the buck, standing about 25 yards away, staggering and lunging to try to stay on his feet. I threw the Benelli up and let go my last two shots. The buck went down but was so adrenalized he was still trying to get back up. I was now without ammo and my 9mm that I had religiously carried for a coup de grace was back in the truck. I yelled out to my Dad, "Dad! Come here! I got him but I'm out of shells and he's still alive!" A few seconds later the buck gave up the ghost and my Dad came to where I was. He slapped me on the back and said "Always remember, the Lord DOES answer prayers!" My Dad was a minister so maybe his prayers carried a little extra weight that day! The buck was above and beyond anything I had hoped for for my first deer. I'd have been thrilled with a doe or spike but my first was a hefty 10 point, 6 on one side, 4 on the other. The side with 6 points had a prominent palmation, somewhat like a moose or fallow antler. The spread was a about 16" and he weighed 165 pounds, which is considered pretty big around here. Turns out he was one of the best bucks killed on the club that entire season.

I was in my Junior year of high school and we had finished up picking corn just before the start of the Wisconsin November gun season. Granddad, Dad, his brothers and my brother and I were all prepared to make the trip to northern Wisconsin to hunt out of Granddad's cabin. A neighbor was going to milk and do chores while we were gone, but slipped and fell on a patch of ice and broke his leg.

Dad didn't trust anyone else to work so said he would stay home. Dad was a hard worker and always put the family first. He loved that time in the north woods hunting with family members. I slept on that decision and it didn't set right with me.

After I finished up my chores I went to the house for breakfast. I told Mom how I felt about Dad's bad luck and said I wanted to stay home so he could go. Mom said she couldn't take time off from her job, but would help the best she could. Brother said he would stay home, too and Lil' Sis said she would help. I told my brother to go because he might not get many more chances to hunt with Granddad.

Dad came in the kitchen door, saw us sitting there with big smiles on our faces, paused for a moment and then asked what was going on. To this day I will never forget the look on Dad's face.

I hunted with some high school buddies for a couple days, but didn't have any luck. Friday after Thanksgiving day there was no school so had plans to meet up with some buddies after morning chores to hunt. While milking our dog was barking so I looked out the barn door and saw 4 deer off in the distance moving across a picked corn field between two wood lots.

Finished milking, turned the cows out, scraped the aisle and stanchion platform, backed the manure spreader in place and ran the barn cleaner. I had deer on my mind now, pulled the tractor and spreader into the door yard and grabbed my Savage 99 250-3000.

Spread the manure load, stopped and began banging on something with pry bar, (don't remember, the tines or apron chain)looked up to see a 10 point buck standing at the edge of the woods with three does. Slowly, moved to the tractor, uncased the gun, went around to the front of the tractor, deer were still staring at me, knelt down and placed a hand hold on the suitcase weights, sent a 87 grain Hornady down the tube. Deer disappeared.

Found the buck about 25 paces inside of the woods. Wrestled the buck onto the spreader tongue and tied him down with some baler twine.

Had a great story to tell the returning deer hunters.