My first deer was at the age of 7 years old,season was only 2 weeks long and buck deer,killing doe back then was like clubing baby seals is how.I had walked behind my house and sat down under a tree that over looked an open field,I put some dead limbs up as a blind and took my Indian Buck Lure and put it out.The sun was coming up and I could not wait,I just knew I was going to kill a big buck,back then people would hunt all season and never see one,deer were not as populated like they are how.About 8 am I heard something in the woods behind me making a lot of nosie in the dry leaves,I turned to see a deer busting into the opening about 20 yards to the left of me,he ran about 40 yards and stoped.Oh my god it was a buck and he was standing at 40 yards,I raised my 94 Win 30-30 and puled back the hammer.The iron sights leveled behind his shoulder and I pulled the trigger.I have been hooked from that moment on when it come to deer hunting.I was 12 when I killed my first deer,I sure I could of killed this on,but I was 7 and mom would not let me take any ammo.
But it was the greatest hunt of my life............

OO Buck at 38 steps out of a single shot Handi 12 gauge full choke...

Boom, flop...

It was misting so hard I thought I shot a doe.

Turned out it was a 3 pt nubber...

We were in a ground blind as well soaking wet...

16 years old - shot it with a browning A-5 at 20 paces.

Clean heart shot, jumped straight up in the air about 2 feet scared the crap out of me. Had buck fever pretty bad.

Spot

Many moons ago, 12 ga slug at 20 yards,doe dropped in a small creek and the water began to flow red...

3 degrees out, inch of ice or more. I just had to.... Dad wasnt' happy but a doe came out the morning we were leaving.... IIRC I was 3rd grade. Nothing to the shot. Was plenty cold for us in TX and cleaning etc....

Remember having to pour hot water on the car to get a door open and all 3 of us used the same door. Long drive home....

What a deer though. Could not have been happier.

Jeff

7:05 opening morning 13 years old and already cold! bucks only
my first trip to the big woods, heard shooting right below me
I was pissed! that guy shot my deer!it had to be coming right to me.5min later hey look a deer BUCK! 303 savage shoot till he's down ok he's down better call Pop, blow the whistle Pop comes
running thought his hunt was spoiled cause he never thought I would get one! nice 6pt seems like yesterday

I was hunting with my Dad and my older brother. I still have the antlers.

I was 13, my Dad was making a loop around me trying to push deer to me. I saw one coming through the brush but couldn't get a shot at it until was almost out of sight. I only had a high shoulder shot. It went right down, then gave out a big bawl. I honestly didn't know it was the deer that made the noise. My Dad was on the ridge directly above/behind me and watched me shoot it. Rifle was a Remington 760 Gamemaster in 243WIN. I still have it too. My 8 year old has "claimed" it though.

RH

I was 12, sitting in the perennial deer killing stand, when a 5 point buck walked out. I had a .30-30 Marlin with iron sites. I took my time and put the bead right on the kill zone and pulled the trigger. He took a big hop and ran about 40 yards and fell down at the edge of the woods.

My dad came out from his stand at the bottom of the hill and he admired my kill then said, son- now the fun starts. He showed me how to field dress my first deer. Even then, I took my time and admired the damage the 170g bullet did to the heart and lungs of that whitetail. I have loved terminal ballistics ever since.

We still have/use that Marlin.

Sure, was easing thru the woods and a small spike stood up,facing me at perhaps 70 yds. Shot offhand and drilled him in the neck and he dropped like a sack of taters. Was using my first ever centerfire rifle, a Rem 700 BDL Wood/Blue 7mm Rem Mag and Federal Factory loads, 160gr Sierra BTSP's. Found the bullet at the rear of his right ham resting against the hide. It had streched the hide but didn't exit. Was so excited that I got my little Datsun truck stuck as I was trying to get it close, to pick it up. Had to borrow my father-in-law's Massey-Ferguson tractor to pull out my Datsun and first deer...:)

I was 12 hunting with Dad, Uncle Elmer and Aunt Lily. My first deer season.

Big old 99R .300 Savage with a tang sight. I was already loading for it at Foster Sporting Goods. Buy the bullets, primer and powder and they let you use their press and dies. I shot it a lot. I could actually hit a nighthawk with it.

Out of the jeep on line in the early morning fog. I missed the first deer I saw, a doe. I hit the downed log it was standing behind. I was pretty sure that was it for the season for me.

We continued down the ridge until we hit the breaks. Then we fell down off the sidehill to a skid road to come back up and out.

Almost out and Dad was talking up a storm like always. He asks if I think we will see any more deer and I said I didn't think so. About then he says "there's one" as we come around a curve.

Hit right behind the liver and he laid down against the sidehill. The inertia started to roll him back up so I shot again.

Uncle Elmer showed me how to gut it and told me to pay attention because this was the last time anyone would do it for me. Hewas right. I had to gut the doe I got that evening.

Extra nice four by four. The boned out meat weighed 130#.

Mom threw away the antlers while I was in the Marines.

I remember the exact day, 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 way back 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 2 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 2 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 less than 100 yards away from us 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 crashing 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 3 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 3 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 2 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 seonds 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 prominate palmation like a moose or fallow antler and would qualify as non-typical. The spread was a little over 16 1/2" and he weighed 165 pounds which is considered pretty big around here. Turns out he was one of the best bucks killed that entire season. As we grabbed the antlers and started dragging him towards the road, the dogs caught up to us and were all over the deer. Then 2 of the drivers came on and got control of the dogs. They were thrilled that I had killed the deer and one of them said, "That 5 shots you heard, that was ME!" This big boy jumped up out of a thicket up in front of me about 60 yards and I unloaded my gun. He was running so fast I knew I was just spraying and praying but I could tell he was a 'hoss! That next stander shot at him too but neither one of us cut a hair!" When we got the buck back to the shed, they gave me the ceremonial bloody face and nuts around the neck and everybody was thrilled that I had finally made it right after letting the first two get away earlier in the day. Mt Dad was as happy or happier than I was and he said "God let those other 2 get by you so this one would mean so much more to you." He got the buck mounted for me and it resides on the wall with many other nice bucks that I've killed through the years but none mean more to me. Partly because he was my first, partly because he was such a nice one but mostly because my Dad was there with me to enjoy it.
My Dad is in Heaven now. I lost him to an unknown of heart aneurysm in '04 and I miss him so much. He was my Dad, my preacher, my best friend in the world. I have water in my eyes as I type this and think about the smile on his face when I killed that buck. This post has given me a chance to relive that day, the first time I have thought about it in such detail since Dad left this world. Thanx for giving me the chance to relive that day.

I remember I lost my voice from telling the story. It was the 5th day of muzzleloader season, 25 yard shot, T/C Hawkens 50 cal, 370gr maxi ball, 90grs of black powder. 120lb doe and she went 20yrds and dropped. My wife said she was my lucky charm. Never had the nerve to tell her that the Hawkens was my lucky charm. I've lost my voice again. Good thing I'm typing. Ken

Yep, 14 years old (21 years ago), killed him on the second to last evening of the season, after school. The shot was about 250 yards, and I didn't connect until the third shot, after I got him running. Used a M99 in .243 Win.

Sorry for the great "field" photo.

Nobody in my household hunted so I started deer hunting on my own (without a clue) at the age of 18. I had a chance to kill a 5 point buck that first Fall but I jumped the gun and shot too soon. The deer ran over the hill and another man killed it. I was sick for a whole year over that little 5 point, so the next year I was huntimg in the same general area and managed to kill a little 3 point, Boy I was proud of that little whitetail. I then became friends with two of the best deer hunters in my area, they really got me pointed in the right direction and taught me alot, Since those many years ago Ive built a reputation in my area as a deer hunting fanatic. Im sure in some circles Im pitied and felt sorry for, as I should be for I am a sick man...................547.

i was 15 and hunting in north mo. using my old win 94 rifle opening morning of deer season i was setting on a ridge over looking a small creek bottom. i hunter on the neighboring property shot once and scared the chit out of me. about 2 minutes later i looked over my shoulder and there stood the biggest deer i ever saw. i slowly got my gun up and fired, and fire and fired. the deer rolled down the ditch dead. i ran the 30 yards between us and wrapped my hands around that button buck's tiny legs. hit him all three times. i started yelling for my dad. he came running over thinking i shot myself.

In my 10th year of deer hunting at the age of 21 I took my first deer-a spike buck shot in the second week of Pa.'s buck season. It was to be a bittersweet memory, as my best hunting partner, my father, died the following spring. At least I did right by him on this one. I have no doubt that the Big Guy upstairs wanted us to share this moment. Dad was really proud of me.

Oh yeah, Way back then there were very few deer in our country. I had hunted for three years and all I saw was tracks. Second morning of the season that I was fifteen years old I was squated on a tree limb watching a natural opening in the woods. Only bucks were legal and forked horn bucks to boot.

Hunting with a M98 mauser that an unk had brought back from WWII and given to Dad. Stock was bobbed off but other than that nothing had been done to it.

Out into the opening stepped a little fork-horn. The right antler had been broken off but sure enough there was a forked horn.

Maybe seventy-five yards. I leveled down behind his shoulder and cranked one off.

Remember, I said I was squating on a tree limb. Me and the deer must have hit the ground at about the same time. I got up he didn't.

BCR

Sure I remember, who dosn't ?
Mine was in the mid 70's when I was 14. Got to hunt with my dad and his friends at their camp. They placed me behind a stone wall looking at a brook and side hill and told me to wait and don't move until someone gets me. Man was it cold. Probably an hour in, seemed like six, an 8 ptr. came walking down the side hill. I waited till he crossed the brook and I fired once. Got him. I have the rack in my living room and still have the shotgun too. J.C. Higgins 12ga. bolt action goose gun. Almost as long as I was tall. Shot my first 6 or 7 deer with it too.
Shooting an 8ptr. first time out I thought , what's so hard about this stuff? Little did I know.

Got my first when I was 9. Dad, my uncle, and my cousin went out deer hunting and I told dad I wanted to squirrel hunt. So he took me to a spot by my Great Grandmas house that I was familar with and he went on and got in his deer stand. Around dark I started walking up the trail back to the camp when a doe and yearling doe almost bumped into me as I walked past the deer trail entering the path. I raised the Stevens side by side 20 ga and fired both barrels. The little yearling doe only made it about 20 yards. I was tickled pink and hooked from then on. I've killed over 100 whitetails ever since and still get the fever every time.

Reloader7RM

My "first" was in 1975 I was 17. Hunting near a scrape, a nice buck walks up & I shoot him, he falls stiffins up and goes limp. I'm very excited and get up, start towards him and while I'm reaching for my knife the "dead" deer jumps up and takes off never to be seen again. No blood no nothing. I spent the rest of that day and the next several, while hunting, looking for him.
I still turkey hunt around that area & re-live that moment every time I'm around that spot in the woods.

yes!
1959..My uncle Jack had taught me to hunt.
In a homemade treestand platform made of ash limbs on the Potomac river bootoms near Poolesville, Md.

Nice 5 point whitetail buck heart-shot arrowed with a wood arrow and Bear two blade b-head down and at about 18 yards first light.52# Bear Kodiak recurve bow.Still enjoy bowhunting.Jim

I was sitting on Dad's knee, shooting his .308 Mohawk 600 with 150gr Ballistic Tips. A heart shot on a button-head at a little over 100 yards. I was 10 years old and it was only the second time I had ever pulled the trigger on a centerfire rifle. I knew it kicked more than my .22, but I didn't care.

1970 sumthin'....

Thanksgiving afternoon...

My Clan never ate Thanksgiving dinner until after dark and after chores, couldn't waste a day of hunting season was the logic.

But, we did start to head back home, usually, prior to sunset and hunt on the way down....

Dad and I were hunting together and as we approached a creek crossing I picked up on what looked to me like fresh tracks in the snow. I asked Dad if I could follow them for a bit and see what it was doing. He said he was gonna continue on, but as long as the tracks didn't take me back up I could follow them. He wanted to get chores done.....

The tracks went down into the hemlocks that lined the creek and meandered around but kept in line pretty much with the creek, heading down stream. With everything in the world to prove to Dad I really wanted to get that deer. I had about an hour left to find it...

Down in along that creek are several places that back in the day were built up for the use of saw mills. There are dirt berms and channels constructed to channel the water so that water wheels could drive the saws, ect. The 15 to 20 foot tall burms are now covered with thick hemlock...

The deer climbed one of those berms and of course I followed....

Can't know who was more startled, me or the deer but there it was, bedded down at the top of that berm under a low hanging hemlock. As I poked my head up to look over the top, we were just about face to face...

The deer, which was a doe...busted loose and ran. I just about [bleep] myself.

Inspection of the bed found a small amount of blood there in the center of it. Someone else had gutshot this deer and it had got away from them. The deer had headed further down stream and I felt obligated to catch up with it and put it out of it's misery....afterall it was a large doe and we were after meat anyway.

It took a lot of cat and mouse and I can't claim to have known a thing what to do at that age but I was determined to get a shot at that deer. It seemed like this deer was never going to give up but I noticed each time I jumped her, I was closer and she didn't run as fast or as far as she did the last time.

Unbenounced to me, Dad had come looking for me and was keeping step observing what was goin on...on the other side of the creek.

Finally after hound dogging that wounded deer for so long I finally got a shot and ended it. I couldn't have been prouder of myself for both gettin' a deer and for cleaning up someone elses mess.

Dad came across the creek in his usually nonchalant manner and congratulated me in the closing darkness with a swat on the shoulder and a grin....I think he knew what I had just been through.

We were late for supper that night.........................

I remember it like it was yesterday. It was a whitetail doe. Killed her with a Rem. Model 742 BDL chambered in 30-06 that I had borrowed. Got her on a cold December afternoon in the Texas Hill Country.
Them memories are good ones.

DT

1977, 13 years old.

My dad and a few buddies put on a drive for me and another guy. A whole bunch of does, along with a couple small bucks, came barerelling past, followed by a nice (18" or so) 8 point. He hit the far edge of the little opening I was standing at the edge of, saw me, and hit the brakes. He was staring straight at me, head held high. I was shooting a scoped (4X) Ithaca Deerslayer, and put it on him. I couldn't see anything but out of focus hair, cause he wasn't more than 15 yards away. Figured I was looking at nothing but neck, with body straight behind it, so I pulled the trigger. He hit the ground and a stream of blood as wide as a 12 gauge slug poured out. He never moved. As I took my first steps towards him, I heard shooting back along the ridgetop that they were pushing towards me. A few minutes later, my dad came through to me. He saw my deer, we had our "father-son hunting moment", then he told me that when I shot, it apparently turned what was left of the herd trailing my buck back along the ridge, back through the drivers. He had killed a 6 point with his 44 Mag pistol as they came back past. How cool was that??

BTW, that is the only buck I've ever had mounted.

Yep,,, Was 9 and shot a small spike on the last day of my 3rd deer season,, not many deer here in the hills now and a heck of a lot fewer back then,,,the day before I had fell coming outa the woods in the dark and had bent my scope so I was hunting with my uncles real light weight single shot 12 gauge, nick named buttkicker due to it's rather vicous recoil,,the sun had gone down and the shadows were getting dark, heard the deer coming for what seemed like hours before I could see them,,, It was a good thing that a small buck was the first out of the brush,,, as soon as It stepped out I raised the single shot 12 ga and shot with a 3" 00buck,, deer flopped then started dragging its hind legs fast, I don't remember reloading but after the deer went 40 feet or so I hit it with a slug through the ribs and it flopped for good, I had a bloody nose from the stock smacking me on one of the shots, the deer had buckshot in the spine, upper shoulder and lower neck, and a slug through the ribs,,,back in camp that was the best tasting TLoin ever,, my uncle and his hunting buddies really made a fuss over that deer,,I was one pumped up kid,,,

Shot a blacktail forked horn buck age 13. 37 years ago. I was trying to hit the buck in the chest and shot him in the neck, another hunter was there in the woods at the time and he helped me get my buck to the country store we called my dad and he came to down to pick me up I was mighty proud as can be standing there with that buck. I had walked from home and my dad had given me 3 shells for the 30,30 he was as proud as I was. Seems like yesterday..

November 11, 1984
Marlin 336C in 30/30
Reloaded 170gr. Speer's on top of 37grs. of H414
150ish yards, broke his back.


Damn I miss my hair.
Did I actually want glasses like that back then.

I was 12 years old shooting a Remington 1100 with a short smooth barrel and rifle sights with the stock cut down so I could reach the trigger.
A doe came up over the hill and stopped at about 5 yards from me. She looked back and just as I was about to shoot her, I saw what she was looking at. The two bucks came on the same trail and butted heads for a few seconds. The larger one then stopped about about 25 yards broadside. I shot him right behind the shoulder and the second hesitated and gave me that split second chance and he took a slug at about 45 yards as well.
By 7:20 opening morning I had filled my tag as well as Dad's. He was awfully proud but made sure I knew to never fill his tag opening morning again.

After this, we started a saying in our group "20 is plenty".

This is a great thread!

Way better than arguing ballistic gack and minutia...grins

Dober

Day after Thanksgiving (November 29?) 1991. I was 14 at the time.

Five point (Eastern count) buck in Lewis County, WV. Shot was around 75 yards through the neck/chest junction and exited behind left shoulder, dropped in it's tracks. This was a couple hours after missing a smaller buck (twice) by using aiming low..way low on a dowhill shot. Didn't think I'd see another legal buck as I had that day and Saturday to hunt only. Savage M110 243 with 100gr Remington PSPCL on top of 46gr of H-450. I still have/shoot/hunt with this rifle.

Here's the story of how I got my first:

The shaman's first deer


Yes, that's right, I got caught in a deer stampede and had to shoot my way out. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!

Here is a picture of my first deer and my late dad and myself. It was 52 years ago. I shot it in the neck as it peeked around a tree at about 180 yds with my .222R M722.

Interesting stories. Its strange though how a bunch of folks shot the first deer they ever saw. It was basically before management when I started hunting, circa 1970s... but the rancher was adamant that I only shoot a certain deer. Either a spike or a mature doe. And NO nubbies. I actually thought it was fun to watch deer looking for the right one. It never dawned on me to smoke the first one.

I also hunted with a friend that to this day shoots meat. He tagged out one morning before the sun was up. 4 deer and he was done and happy.

I know its different in each place you hunt, but I've always had trouble shooting the first one I see. I've gone home empty handed too. But even as a kid it would have stopped the hunt and ended the fun/experience.

I'm well aware that to even see a legal deer in some areas is a major success. Was like that on our personal property for years. So much so that I figured if it was that tough I didn't need to be shooting anyway...

Am not flaming here, just noting observations...

Jeff

Starting to see a pattern here.
Shotguns with buck or slugs and "old" rifle calibers.

18 years ago this November, and I still remember it like yesterday... It was the last day of the season, last afternoon, and to be honest the only deer hunt we went on that year. To many elk tags to fill and not enough time to hunt deer. we did ok though.

The shot was about 150-175 yards, missed the first time, hit him the second. One shot with my M700 243win, and the rug was pulled out from under him. I still remember running as fast as I could to get to him. LOL

My first one was a little 4 pointer. First season I could legaly hunt deer in New York state. Got out of the truck walked about 200 yards and sat down under a white pine. 3 deer walked out of a thicket about 5 minutes later, 2 does and a buck. 20 yard shot with a Marlin 30AS 30-30 and it was over.

I plugged this dude when I was sixteen....
It was 1983 or 84....My first good buck...I mowed a bunch of lawns to pay the taxidermy bill...

I was 16 and she was 15. It was on a beach in Boca Grande, Florida, she was quite the dear....

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!

I remember my first deer well. I was 15 years old, and shot him with a .222. The rifle was a Savage 340. The bullet was a 63-grain handload that my uncle made up.

Three bucks, a 5-pt, a 4-pt, and a spike, walked in to about 30 yards. I was standing by a tree and shot the 5-pt. in the neck. He fell down and started kicking.

When I went up to him, he had only one antler with 3 points on it. After he quit kicking I grabbed the antler to pick up his head, and it came off in my hand. While my dad and I gutted the deer, a kid from my class in school came up and started looking around for the other antler. He found it, and it was only a "Y".

I dragged the deer about a half mile down to my grandparents' house with the antlers in the pouch of my hooded sweatshirt. The rumor went around the valley that I had shot a doe.

Somewhere, maybe at my parents' house, there is a picture of me holding the antlers on the deer's head.

Steve

15 Years old sitting in a tripod stand neer a swamp a hunting partner walk back to camp early scared her to me and i couldn't get her to stop till she was just 20 yard away and i dropperd her where she stood with my 30-30 Marlin

Yea, good Ole South Carolina!

First deer was in the late 70's, I walked from the house to a large patch of timber before daylight. This was a favorite haunt of mine to hunt squirrels and I had seen a very nice buck just two weeks earlier. I lost my bearings a little so I found a tree to sit by until daylight. At daylight I continue until I came to a open hillside that had scattered dead timber that had been aerial sprayed sometime earlier. It was a heavy frost and I was having trouble keeping my glasses from fogging up. After about a 30-45 min wait, I saw a deer just below me about 125 yrds away. I readied the Marlin 336 30-30 and out walked a buck. I didn't look to see how big, I just leveled the 30-30 and started blasting. The buck took off and I lost sight of it in the dead and downed timber. It would then pop out again and I would shoot again. This continued until I had fired five times and the deer never reappeared again. I reloaded and waited 10-15 mins and walked down to where I had last seen it and it was laying at the bottom of a ditch. I was excited to say the least. It was a hat-racked 7-pt and I had hit it 3 or the 5 shots. I gutted it as best as I could remember with my Barlow pocket knife bought with birthday money. I was about a mile from home and about half way back to get help, I got the wild idea that someone was taking my buck, so I ran all the way back only to find it still safe. I piled a cord of wood and brush on it to hide it and went for help. Dad and I went back to get it and he laughed all day about all of the wood that I had piled on it. Those were such simple times. I am lucky to say that I have been present when two of my three kids have shot their first bucks. To witness the excitement and wonder in their eyes is amazing.

CK

I was 9 and shot it with a 222 ran about 10 yards and dropped I had a feeling of joy and sadness all at the same time. I still feel that way and if I ever lose that feeling I'll quit hunting. I stepped up in Caliber after that. Remington 600 in a 35 rem, and a Ruger 77 in a 25-06 and never looked back!

Ed

yeah, i kinda remember it!

After 5 years of hard hunting with never getting a shot at a Coues deer, my
dad and I decided to look into investing some money in some high quality
optics. We have hunted with a friend who owns a pair of Docter 15x60's and
every year he has gotten himself and his son a pair of decent bucks. Whenever
we hunt with him he always glasses up more deer in one day then we manage to
see through the whole hunt. This year my dad and I acquired a pair of our own
Docter 15x60's and a pair of 10x42 Swarovski's from a close family friend.
The opening weekend of the November deer hunt in the southern part of
Arizona was finally here! Camp included Mike, his son Westin, my dad and
myself. Westin and I were the only ones who had drawn tags for that hunt, (my
dad drew the December tag) and we were ready to go. My dad and I could not
hunt opening morning due to one of my last football games ever, but when we
finally got to camp; we were buried in good news. Mike had seen some
monsters. With his pair of Docter's, he had glassed up a buck that he thought
would go between 110-115. Mike and Westin had glassed this buck up bedding
down from about a mile away. By twilight, they had stalked to within 200
yards. Should be a chip shot on a good Coues right? Well buck fever began to
set in and my hunting partner, Westin shot high, right over his back.
Although I was disappointed to hear that he had missed a great buck, I was
excited to hear that there were some good bucks in the area and I thought I
had a good chance to get my first shot at a big buck.
My dad and I glassed our butts off that weekend but never could put
antlers on any of the deer we glassed up with our tripod mounted Docter's
although we were seeing a lot more deer then usual. Westin had missed three
times at different deer before the weekend was over but we all stayed
confident. On Sunday, my dad and I went out around this waterhole and never
saw a deer. This was frustrating to not see a deer on the last hunt of the
weekend.
The next Saturday, we were at it again. Westin and his dad decided to do
a "drive" per say. My dad and I stayed on a ridge over looking a big canyon
that they would be working. We watched as they went around a hill and sunk
into the bottom of the canyon. About five minutes later, my dad says "Casey I
found you a buck he's a good one, hurry and get on him." I look to find him
with the Swarovski's thinking that he was only a couple hundred yards away. I
hurriedly asked my dad where he was and he said over there, on top of that
ridge. I said "Dad the only ridge that I see is about 500 yards away." "He
says exactly, that's it get on him." By the time I got my gun on him, he was
just getting over the top. That was the first buck I had ever seen during a
deer hunt.
The next morning, we all decided to drive down to the flats and hunt from
there. We all walked around this hill to a peak with a good view of the
mesquite and cactus covered flats where it would be possible to get a shot
anywhere from 100 to 600 yards. My dad and my hunting partner both set up
their Docter's and started glassing each facing different directions. We sat
on that ridge for about an hour or two. All of a sudden, Mike, Westin's dad
says "I got one, and it's on the move but I can't tell what it is but it
looks like it might be a buck." We all pack up and move to a nearby ridge
where we can get a better look at this deer. When we get to the ridge, Mike
says "Everybody get down, I got it." We all sit down and my dad and Mike both
set up their tripods. Mike was giving my dad directions to where the deer
was, "Go to the cedar and go about 100 yards to the left." My dad went to the
cedar and said, " I see a buck!" I put my backpack on top of my dad's while
Mike ranged him in. By this time my adrenaline was already pumping hard. I
couldn't believe it, I was actually going to get a shot at a buck, and I had
broken the curse! Mike ranged the buck in at 340 yards, "Wait until he gets
to a clearing and take him. Ok there's your shot, take it" BOOM! My 30-06
rang out into the silence of the day. " You hit him, get him again BOOM!
BOOM! The big buck went down. We all watched where he went down as I reloaded
just in case. I was so excited, I could barely get the bullets in the
magazine. We waited about 20 minutes and sent Mike and Westin down to see if
he was deceased or just lying there. The plan was that they would go down and
to the left so that if he wasn't dead yet, they would kick him out to the
right where I could get some more shots off if need be. I was watching them
and the mesquite that my buck had gone down in the whole time. All of a
sudden, I hear Mike yell out " Shoot! Shoot!" I'm looking for movement and
cannot find any. Then, all of a sudden I see my buck running away, by this
time he is at about 400 yards and running as fast as a deer can with a whole
in one of it's front shoulders. The first two shots sailed high, then I
knocked him down but he got back up. The next shot knocked him down again.
That deer would not stay down. He got up one more time. My dad said to me
"You have time, finish him off." I put the crosshairs about 10 inches over
his back and put him down. I know it was a lot of shots but hey, I'm only 17
and I was excited.
Before I knew it I was running down the hill to see my first deer.
Everybody in camp was jealous of my buck because it was the only one taken.
When we took it to the taxidermist, he said that it scored 82 2/8 B/C. That's
not a huge buck, but it is one that I am awful proud of and I will never
forget. If it wasn't for my dads Docter's, we might have never seen the buck
and I would have not gotten a shot. Or Mike would have seen it first and
therefore Westin would have gotten the first shot.