Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Deer Hunting Do you remember your first deer............

Mid 60's. Southern Oregon's Cascade Mountains at a black sticky mud hole called Agate Flats.
My friend and I had hiked away from camp and set up at a saddle. He had a Savage M99 in .300. I carried a remodeled Springfield .30-06. Both were scoped.
Not two minutes after we sat down, a chunky 3 point blacktail came jogging through the saddle trying to evade some other hunters.
Nine (9) shots later we had the ole boy down. Sounded like the Tet Offensive down there!!
Hit in just about every concievable place, my good friend insisted that I should tag him (I hit em first anyway...) I had the whole thing made into jerky by a relative.
The antlers are coal black from rubbing in the cedars where he lived. BT

Oh yeah. It was 48 years ago in a spot they called Hell�s half acre. I killed that little forked horn at a 100 yards with a J.C. Higgins .270 that wore an old Weaver 4x and shot 130 gr. Silvertips as well as my twelve year old skill set could possibly allow.

I have never had an occasion to return to this spot until about five years ago. I was working on a project to monetize thousand of acres of timberlands throughout North America. As luck would have it, the corporation for which I worked had some parcels not far from Hell�s half acre. On the way out to look at the company�s tracts in their jet ranger, I told the pilot I also needed to look at some other ground that was kinda special to me. With the aid of some maps that were on board, I was able to talk him into Hell�s half acre and we put the skids on the ground within 50 yards of where I shot that little buck.

I have never killed a real trophy, but I have killed enough deer and elk that I have lost count as to how many I have shot since I took that little guy 48 years ago. However, that deer is permanently ingrained in my memory and I can still recall in vivid detail how it looked through that old Weaver scope when I hit him. After walking down to where I did my shooting and standing there taking in the country for a few minutes, I turned to go back to the helicopter and another memory came rushing back to me. The helicopter was sitting on the same knob that my dad stood quietly watching me make this rite of passage at Hell�s half acre. Although I lost my dad over 30 years ago, I could clearly remember him standing on that knob with a smile on his face and calmly asking �son, did you get your deer?� When I reached the helicopter I said �yeah dad, I got my deer and thanks�thanks for everything.� CP.

I hunted muzzleloader seasons for my first 2 years and was getting tired of not having a second shot after i bummed the first to buck fever. I finnally caved and decided that it didnt matter if it was a buck or doe I was going to get the next deer I saw since it was a hair tag.

My dad and I were side hilling and watching down below as we went. he past a brush pile on his right about 15 yards away and kept on going. When I got to that same spot I saw a deer head watching me out of the middle of that pile. I pulled up with a Lyman hawkin .54cal And held between its eyes. I hit it at the base of the ear. At the shot a lil doe jumps up and I start yelling at my dad to shoot it. He's thinking its the deer I had shot at. But soon gave in and shot but missed it. I think he missed on purpose because of the size and fact it was a doe but thats a secret I will never know. Turns out the lil doe that I shot was a very small button buck.

I was 15 and hunting with dad and bunch of his friends/relatives on a little piece of land that always yielded a buck or 2. I was carrying my Sears model 94 (?) 30-30 shooting Remington 150 grain soft points. I was standing next to a tree looking for deer when I heard something walking towards me. Sure enough, here comes a little 6 point with his nose to the ground looking for some scratch. He stopped perfectly and I nailed him at about 20 yards just below the spine. I let him go for about 30 minutes and tried to track him but his tracks got mixed up with some others and I lost him. Went and got my cousin who was a trackin sob and within 20 minutes I was getting congratulations from all the other hunters. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face for a week after that.

14 years old shooting by bolt action 30/30 with a foggy weaver scope ( I think they all fogged up back then).

8 pointer at about 50 yards walking, aimed for the chest and squeezed the trigger and he ran 40 yards.

Perfect shot through the femoral artery

Happy Kid.

1970 I was 18 yrs. old. Couldn't hunt big game until you were 16 in N.Y. I was standing in a small patch of sumacs waiting for the deer to move up out of a thick pine grove. About 4 p.m. I heard a shot about 300 yds. behind me. A buck slid to a stop running from the direction of the shot. I can still see that 9 pt. rack backlit by the setting sun. I put the sights of my new Ithaca 66 buckbuster [38 dollars] where his neck joined the shoulder and down he went. Up he jumped, blam, down he went. He then staggered a few yards and fell for good. 84 long steps to where he first stood. My Dad had been coming home from work and spotted this buck in a field, missed it with his mossberg. I killed many more with that little 20 guage. even a doe at 164 long steps, But I can still see that buck standing there in the sun!

A fallow buck 30 years ago, taken with a Sako Forester HB .243 using Sako 90gn Factory ammo.

AGW

Shot my first deer sitting on my fathers knee. It was a very special time for the both of us. Now that I am a father and have a sons of my own I can't wait until they do the same. I have hunted with my father ever since and when my sons are ready to kill there first deer he will be there to share it with me. It does not get any better that that!

Dont leave out ole Oulufinn and BMD now.....we will be there as well. Big Hungry will prolly be home with his wife though.

First was a 6pt. with the shotgun in Canadice, NY. Opening day, 60 yardsand made a good hit, ran under the tree and off behind me into a ravine. Piled up about 150 yards away. I think the year was 1980. Was pretty old at 19 compared to many others on here, but have made great strides with persistence! My, what a good run it has been.

Many a night out on Canadice hookin' browns usin' sawbellies for bait....

Loved that little lake.

Long time ago, and fond memories.

Wasn't us though, cappin' the bait......grins.

YEP!

I hunted for many years previous and never saw a deer. This was the first one I ever saw while I was hunting.

M1 with 130 gr bullet
shot off hand standing, no support at him as he trotted away, at a distance of 50-60 yds.

Mine is on the passengers side!

Wildswalker-My buddy and I had row boats stashed on both sides w/oars and would row up and down that lake in the 70's, fishin' swimin' and......Better leave it at that as the City of Rachacha may get wind! Killed a few spring gobblers around that lake too. Fond, fond memories.

blammer- good buck to start on!

Cold December weekend in the Texas Hill Country ranch directly opposite Garner State Park. Took an 8 point buck with my Ruger 77 chambered in 220 Swift with a 6-18x Burris. Shot him in the neck at 200 yds. Dropped him like a bad habit. I was 17 years old.

I was hunting with my brother-in-law and his Dad. My Dad died when I was 12. Dad would have been rpoud of what I have become.

I was 15 yrs old, and hunting late in my third season in a shotgun only zone. I sat all day, which I can't bring myself to do today, astraddle a down tree watching a saddle. I was too high up the hill, but I didn't know that then. Maybe a half an hour before dark a small doe tried to sneak behind me about 30yds away. I turned around while still straddling this tree and fired two rounds of 12ga. 00 buck with twelve pellets each from my bird and bunny gun. One of these 24 pellets went between two ribs, through the valves of the heart, and out between two ribs. I don't know what happened to the other 23 pellets. The deer ran 50' and dropped. I had just barely got to this deer when a trespassing father and son team showed up. I hadn't seen a soul all day, and this was private property, but I probably wouldn't have got that deer if they found it first.

Fat, long back doe @ 100 yards. Using a tang safety Ruger 280 with varmint barrel. Ballistic tip hit a rib and gave me two exits. One just other side of the shoulder and one way back near the ham. Blendered the insides. She walked 10 or so yards.

Boy do I ever. Dad hunted mule deer quite a bit and I just was going nuts to tag along. The trips were 10 days plus, so he didn't want to take me when I was too young. There first time I went was shortly after I'd turned fourteen. Out in the middle of nowhere in Mexico. Days were pretty cold considering we didn't really have any cold weather gear back then. PJs, jeans, sweatshirt, etc. We'd hunted a couple of days and two were on the ground. I had seen Dad shoot his as I pushed the buck out of a canyon and he popped it with his .270 Husqvarna.

The ranch was enormous, big enough that you could drive dirt roads all days in one direction and damn near not leave it. In any event, we decided to move camp from one end to another. During the ride someone spotted a forkhorn not too far off the road. Dad and I piled out. Had my .243 and as we approached all I could see was the upper part of the neck, base of the skull and of course the "antlers". Dad said I'd better shoot as the buck was about to spook. Had to shoot standing as kneeling would've been impossible. I practiced off hand ad naseum as Dad was a devoted silhouette shooter so I thought I could hit the darn thing. Wasn't too far away, perhaps 100-125 yds. Squeezed zee trigger and the shot felt good. Dad said I'd nailed it. We moved closer and the buck suddenly appeared again kinda woobly like. I plastered the crosshairs on his neck and put him down for good.

First shot had hit the base of the antler which we never found, the second shattered the spine. I was dancing up and down. I kept telling Dad that it was freezing out there and I'd never been so cold in my life.

Dad just laughed and said: "You've got buck fever".

I still shake like a leaf when I think about it. You all know what it's like, still do it to this day.

Well mine probably isn't nearly as good a story as most, but I'll tell it anyway. Raised in deep East Texas, deer were not easy to come by. My Dad and Uncles raised me hunting small game, mostly squirrels and quail. They didn't care about deer hunting...there just wasn't enough of them to mess with.

Unlike my elders, I wanted to kill a deer. I wandered deep into the river bottom and sat in the crook of an old oak tree (many times) toting my grandfathers 32-20 winchester. Eventually a group of three does (all illegal) wandered out of a thicket, right in front of me at about 20 yards. I raised the heavy rifle to my knee and shot at the middle of the biggest doe . They all turned and ran, obviously untouched.

I returned to camp and fired the old rifle a coup[le of times, not believing I had missed. The gun was dead on, and I was thoroughly convinced deer were magic and could not be killed.
I was determined, so I returned to the same area the next day and sat. No deer. I did see some buzzards perched in some trees a little way off, so I naturally went to investigate. I found what was left of my deer from the day before, shot through the lunges. She had run just out of sight before going down. I was really sad then. Everything I had ever shot before, either died "right there" or didn't die at all.

I won't bore you with all of the lessons learned from this experience. Please teach your kids every thing you can. Some of the things that are obvious to you, they may have to learn the hard way.

As someone pointed out, how interesting that many of us took our first with a shotgun or lever action. I'm no exception. Fall of 1980. I had done a lot of squirrel and bird hunting with my Dad but he had no interest in deer.

Hunted on the same Indiana Morgan-Monroe State Forest ridge I squirrel hunted and with the same gun a Remington Model 11 20 gauge with polychoke that had belonged to my Grandfather but this time loaded with slugs.

She was the tail end of a group of three does annoying the squirrels and working their way along the ridge eating "their" acorns. I sat, back against a big beech with a fallen log across in front of me, and when she got to 30 yards I held and squeezed. She fell at the shot as I had hit her in the spine, about ten inches higher than I meant to. By the time the my shakes started I was at her side and she drew her last breath.

I did find out hauling 150 lbs of deer off that hill was a whole lot harder than carrying a gamebag of squirrels!