Your first deer?

D

Deja vu

New member
I think every one remembers there first deer.

My first deer I shot was with my fathers 30-06. My Dad had several 30-06 rifles. At the age of 10 and skinny it was more gun than I was able to handle so my dad made some light loads for me. My father, Uncle, Grand Father and a Cousin and I all went out to a farm where a friend of my Grandfather said the deer where eating his hey stack. It was fall but I remember it being really cold. I believe there was a little snow on the ground at the time.

When we got there we say about 20 deer all eating the hay stack. We drove right up to about 40 yards from them. All 5 of us picked different targets we where able to stand there and discuss which ones we wanted. The Farmer counted down from 10 and we all shot at once (more or less) 5 deer all dropped. The issue was so did I. In the excitement I forgot to take a strong stance and the recoil (even with the lighter load) knocked me on my butt. The slick ground may have played a roll as well.

That Christmas my dad got me my first centerfire rifle. Its a Marlin in 357 magnum (low recoil) that had the stock shortened and the barrel cut to 16.5 inches as well as had the action slicked up and the trigger lightened. My Grand Father was a Gun Smith at some point in his younger years and did the work on my gun.


Any way thats my first deer, lets hear about yours!
 
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I was 12, and my dad insisted I used his 06 he had gotten from his father. It was a left handed bolt and I shoot right handed. I was sitting on the edge of a swamp and took a nice doe from 70 yards and it flipped over and took off into the brush. As I lowered my rifle I seen my doe take off and seen a large 10 pointer come walking out to where I had shot the doe. I fumbled with trying to work the bolt and the buck took off running. If i had the sxs 12 he was using I might have gotten my first doe and buck in the same sitting, however I could have missed the intial shot too. Regardless it was a hunt ill never forget and a question i'll never answer.
 
First morning of my first year gun hunting.

My dad decided that we should walk a hedgerow along a field bordering a hill. He walked the uphill side, I walked the field.

We get about 1/2 way across and I hear this big truck on road bordering the other edge of the field hit it's brakes.

I look over that way and here's this deer running across the field, coming right at me.

I knew I couldn't shoot that way, the only safe way was right along the length of the field. I brought my gun to low ready and the deer saw me for the first time.

It changed course but only very slightly, rather than run me over it would cross about 15 feet in front of me.

When it got to the safe spot I swung the gun up and pulled the trigger.

It kept going but as it turned out I made a good shot and it only went 20 or so yards into the brush. I was pretty excited and reached down to grab a leg to flip it over....

The gun was a 12ga shotgun with a reciprocating barrel, like the Winchester Auto 5 but I swear it was an Ithaca of some kind. I didn't realize it until I pulled on that leg but apparently I'd not quite shouldered the gun correctly... well... I hadn't quite shouldered the gun, period.:eek:

Man, that hurt. Didn't even know I did it until I pulled that leg, what with all the adrenaline. The next day, I had a bruise that ran partially up my neck, half way across my chest and down my arm to my bicep.

Yeah... I remember that deer.:D
 
I killed my first deer at 8. I used my grandfather's single barreled 16 gage. I had to walk a mile to the store a couple of times to get enough pop bottles to buy three shot gun shells. (25 cents).

I was left on a stand and sure enough, a little fork horn camp trotting down the trail toward me.

Understand I spent two nights listening to my uncle and his hunting buddies talking about people getting gored and stomped by deer so I was a bit frightened to began with.

Anyway I shoot the sucker, he goes down and gets back up, keeps running toward me. The ejector didn't work so I had to pry the hulls out with my knife.

I shoot it the second time, he gets up again and continue toward me. I'm really scared now, I pry out the hull and get the third shot off, he goes down and stays down.

I'm left standing about 6 feet from him, still scared. Don't know what I would have done if he got up again, as mentioned I only had three shells.

I know now, he wasn't trying to attack me, but back then I didn't know any better, I thought I was dead.

Still got that shotgun, only now I know enough to know it was made for black powder only. I figure that's why it was so loose on lock up.

My grandfather fed his family during the depression with that old gun, it was the only firearm he had when he worked part time for the sheriffs office transporting prisoners from Perryville AR to Little Rock.

I know its not worth anything but I'll not part with it.

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Eleven yrs. old. Using an Ithaca Mod. 66 Super Single 12ga. that I still have today. And yes it still kicks like a mule today as it did back then. :rolleyes:

Dad was sitting about five feet from me with his back against a tree. I had my back against my tree... freezing to death until this doe came walking down a deer trail headed towards a corn field at the bottom of the hill.

Shot her at about 40yds as she turned broadside presenting me a pic. perfect shot. She ran about another 40yds. collapsing about ten yds from the cornfield.

Funny how from the time I first saw her till after we recovered her , I was not cold a bit nor did I feel the recoil from the shot.

Too, I learned that evening while helping field dress her how the inside of that body cavity can really warm cold hands up. ;)
 
I've also shot a lot of deer over the years but remember the first like it was yesterday. I can even take you to the exact spot 45 years later. Remington 760 in 30/06 shooting 150 grain Bronze Point ammo. Made a fist sized hole. No blood trail-just a pool.
 
A little SC fork horn was my first. Used a 1965 model 70 in 30-06. About a 125 yard shot. Deer dropped like a stone.
 
I had gone with dad many times before but 13 was the first time I was old enough to get a tag.

We were about 5 miles up a cannon, in the Colorado Rockies, when we saw two nice buck mules come across a little draw. When they stopped we got both of them with 30-06's.

It was strange to see two big bucks running together like that, almost like they came by just for us.

The five mile drag back out was a LONG trip. Dad ended up carrying both guns and dragging my dear, the heavier one.

About half way down the two foot wide snow slick path, with a shear drop on one side, we heard a bunch of shooting over the hill. Then a guy came charging over the hill and demanded to know where we got those deer.

Luckily he backed down quick because we were tired and in no mood for nonsense. There would have been a gun fight before he got them.

Dam, I need to get back home and hunt with dad before he cannot go anymore. Not in that place though. It was isolated back then but the cannon mouth now has condos built across it and the whole aria is developed.
 
I can remember my first deer & it was 40 years ago.. A 4 point with a Win mdl 94 30/30..

Many many deer later & I still get a little excited when I see deer at close range ; )
Y/D
 
I'm standing on a tree stump in a very small clearing surrounded by heavy, heavy brush. One guy in my party who was close, yet out of sight, shoots. That got my attention. Sure enough, a buck appears about 30 yards away, and from that direction with it's head really low to the ground, trying to vacate the area. Even 20 years later I can't believe how I didn't hesitate at all. I managed to get a shot off in the 2 seconds that the deer was shootable in all that brush with a scoped Savage boltgun in 30-06. So I'm standing there trying to replay what had just happened in my mind's eye; my entire leg shaking from the adrenaline dumped in my system.
The buck was discovered about 15 feet from where I plugged it. The guy in my party checking and rechecking and rechecking and rechecking the deer for *his* bullet hole, to no avail.
My dad helped me gut the thing. I had begun to toil around the pelvis and the viscera kept falling out and blocking my hands. My dad grabbed the viscera with his bare hands and stuffed it back in.

"That's gross." I said.

"So was changing your diapers." He said.
 
40 seasons back, dad & I doubled

It was 1973, and I was 16. Hunting a piece of land that at one time had belonged to the family and had a rich family history. I was on a stand in "Doe Hollow" where my favorite Uncle Dick had killed a ton of deer. Dad and I had drawn tags for the 2 day doe only season. A morning hunt on a hardwood ridge, bordered by ag fields. There was a bit of snow on the ground. Dad was out to my right and killed a doe early, that same bunch came by me and I then missed (running deer, just a kid ya'know). I was pretty bummed.

About 1/2 hour later a second bunch came through, ran right past Dad as he was field dressing his doe, up the hollow again to me. I missed again, (running deer again, stupid) but this deer then stopped. I had an opening and took a second shot. The doe went down in a pile and never kicked.

It was 85 downhill steps to her. The bullet struck the base of the neck where it joins the shoulder and exited behind the opposite shoulder. I used my grandad's (Dad's father) M88 Win in .308 with a 4x Bushnell, and still have it of course. The cartridge was W-W 180 gr Silvertip, the traditional style with the silver alloy tip. Everybody knew that .30/180 was as light as you should go for deer.

Dad drug his deer over, he was only on the opposite side of the ridge, and then supervised the field dressing of mine. I had never done one, though I'd done a bunch of small game. I did OK, with just a bit of help. We then drug them out together, about a 1/2 mi or so, downhill to the old Jeep Commando (Jeepster) at the cemetery where my great grandads family, great uncles are buried.

It was 40 years ago, and I can see much of it as clear as anything.
 
15 years old with my dad, had been with him since I was a toddler but now as I had turned 15 I could hunt with him

first day with bucks only

the buck had been barking for a while and me and my dad had been trying to communicate with hand signals, we were kinda glimpsing it across the field in the woods, wsitting with our backs against some rubble/bushes

my dad slowly placed the rifle a swedish mauser in my lap and started to whisper but i couldn't hear him at all (ear protection and the rush) the buck takes one step out into the field and I shoulder and fire immidiatly, the buck goes down out of sight, my dad starts to swear "I told you to wait for a clean sideshot! but I had shot the second I saw him, aimed straight for the chest head on as he was probably looking for us

my dad takes the gun from me and tells me to run to a nearby farm and get their dog as he thought I probably just wounded the buck, I take of and get the old doxen, running so fast I probably dragged the dog after me.

I get back and my dad is nowhere to be seen, I shout out and nobody, our rucksacks are still there so I know I am at the right field. I am scouting for the spot where I shot the buck but everything looks the same so I walk to the corner of the field and walk up the ditch and find where I shot it, pool of blood and stuff that looks horrible, brown guts with some, no trail but no buck, the doxen is really excited and is pulling hard into the woods so I let him lead.

I see some blood here and there but not much at all, the doxen is staying true thou, I keep calling out for my dad with no avail.

the buck most have take a big turn because we are moving back to the fields out on a road, that leads us to my dads car with him standing there with the buck at his feet

there you are he said what took you so long? turns out he had found the buck dead right where I got him but a low shoot that had practically ripped his guts out thru the *******, he had just bagged it up (roedeer aren't that big and taken it for a loop in the woods to teach me about tracking, throwing blood out as he went along.

not much to gut but that buck tasted good! we built our smoker after that buck and it was the premiere meat from it
 
I killed my first buck at 21 at a small piece of property owned by a family friend, it took 2 years to actually hit one because of my horrible buck fever. The buck came out on the road at about 180 yards so I lined up and plugged him right in the chest with my 30-06 mauser 98 with reloads of my own. I was hunting with my girlfriend and we both barely had any idea what we were doing in regards to tracking that was fun.

After a couple of minutes trudging thru the woods I started to think that the deer had gotten away, heading back towards the road I stumbled upon the body and the deer was already dead and sitting in a pool of blood. The damn thing hardly left any blood trail when I was attempting to track him.

He was a pretty good buck for my first a decent 10 pointer, and was he a heavy bastard, I will tell you its pretty hard to load up a buck in the pickup when your hunting partner is 5'2" and not very strong. Field dressing was also funny I was talked thru it on the cell phone by a good buddy who knows a lot more about hunting thain I do.
 
Ah yes...

I was 12 years old, I drew a deer tag with my dad and some of his friends. I practiced a lot with my dad's Winchester 94 chambered in 30-30. Peep sight. I could kill a deer out to 100 yards with confidence. I could not wait to go deer hunting, and I mean it. Hunting deer was my ultimate goal since I was like 6 years old. I was a bit excited.

I don't remember the first 6 days completely, but it was a hard hunt. I remember seeing not too many deer but at least 2 bucks. Neither offered a shot. I was getting desperate. My dad kept telling me that persistence was the name of the game but my determination was turning into desperation. I was beginning to think that shooting a buck was bordering on impossible, and on the morning of the 7th day my suspicions were confirmed. We were hiking into some thick bedding area mid-morning, having seen nothing early, and my dad spotted some deer. He could see 4-5 if I recall, I could see one doe. As he was looking them over he could see a small buck. I could not. So he decided to take the shot. I remember him kneeling and aiming in an uncomfortable position and they broke as he was pulling the trigger. They ran off. We looked all over the hillside for blood, finding none. He was aiming for the neck. I was now absolutely convinced that shooting a buck was impossible, except short of a miracle which could take years and years of scouring the hills for bucks to stand still enough to shoot. If my dad couldn't do it, I sure as hell couldn't.

We were standing there, I was voicing my opinion in despair regarding the astronomical odds against me ever killing a deer when it happened. My dad cuts me off and says "there's a deer." I shut up and am looking thru the trees. "there's two deer" he says. "One's a buck. No, they're both bucks." As I looked I saw one come into focus, 30-40 yards thru the thick pinon/juniper thicket we were in. Walking broadside thru the trees. He cleared one small opening and I could see his antlers and he went behind a pinon tree. I looked for the other one but did not see it. I had my rifle ready. My dad kept saying "hold on, wait for them both to get into view and we'll get them both."

I could hear him saying this, but you have to understand that I had been living up to this moment for all I could remember of the 12 years I'd been alive. It was literally the pinnacle of my existence, this moment. This opportunity. It's the only memory I have of directly disobeying, on purpose, what my dad was telling me. I smoked that buck as soon as he cleared the next tree. 30-40 yards, right in the neck, leveled him. Dad wasn't mad:)

18 years later I still love deer hunting just as much as I did that moment.
 
My first deer was near Maybel, CO when I was 13. It was my second head of big game. We moved from NM to CO on the year I could have hunted in NM, so I had to wait another year. My Dad told me I had to buy a rifle if I wanted to hunt because I could not shoot his 7mmMag. So I saved up $150 and then every night for several weeks, when he got home I had 3 or 4 rifles for sale circled in the paper for him to call about. Everytime, he told me that the ones I had found were sold, old or some other problem. Then on my 13th birthday, my parents gave me a Winchester .243 with a Black Walnut stock. It was the best looking rifle I had ever seen! My Dad had bought it months earlier, but kept calling on the ads and even bought himself a nice .243 that I found. We both still have those rifles, and the stories that go with them.

My first hunt was Pronghorn, and, I am still a little embarrassed to say, it took me 62 rounds to get one. For the record, the next 31 Pronghorn took only 38 rounds total. Shortly thereafter, same year, I got my first deer with that same .243 (one shot). I plan for my sons to shoot their first Pronghorn with that same rifle.

My oldest son turned 12 on November 1. On November 2, he shot his first deer with a .308 (one shot). My Dad and I each got a deer too, and it was only a few miles from where both my Dad and I shot our first deer our first year in Colorado. I was very proud of my first deer, and now of my son's first deer as well. In a few years, my younger son will go to the same place with that same .308 to try and repeat the history.
 
I just got my first deer last week @ 46 y/o. Never deer hunted as a kid. Can remember rabbit, squirrel hunting and running trap lines with my Grandfather when I was about 5. Got into pheasant hunting about age 12.

Anyways, I used my SKS. Took about a 60 yard shot threading the shot between a group of trees with only about a 12" gap to shoot through. The deer ran about 40 yards downhill. It was just a spike buck. But I am hooked on deer hunting for good.
 
My first deer... Freshman in college over 20 years ago.

I had just upgraded from a Bear Whitetail to a Hoyt Ram Hunter II. Shooting Easton arrows with a Thunderhead 125 broad head.

My friends and I had no hunting mentors, so we struck out for years trying to learn the elusive ways of deer hunting. I was set up in a oak head bordering a cypress swamp, hunting the break between the 2. To this day, I still don't know where he came from, but as I glanced over, there he was at 25 yards and closing, a small 3X2. I waited until he walked behind a large tree, drew, and waited for him to step out broadside. He did. I let loose (shooting fingers), and man if I didn't hit him square on! Almost came out of my skin with glee! I would be only the second out of our group to ever get a deer! WOOHOO!

Yeah yeah yeah, sit for 30 minutes... Heck no, I got a DEER! I waited maybe 5 and couldn't stand it. Got down and followed the huge blood trail till it stopped. Hmmm, now what?

I went back to fetch some friends to help track. In the end, that deer had bedded down no more than 15 yards from where I lost the trail in some palmettos. I unwittingly pushed him out to a firebreak on the other side where someone found him and drug him off. I was HOT! Went looking through camp ( the state run camping area at the check in station for the WMA) bound bent and determined to find the thief. Never did. Ah... Youthful exuberance and stupidity...

I learned then many valuable lessons.
 
I was 16 years old hunting in northern Michigan on family land seen a few does but no bucks and having no antlerless permit I waited. Well nature called so I stepped out of my blind to relieve myself well to my surprise 2 spike came in so I had to put myself back together get in my blind and get a shot off, yeah easy right nope tripped getting into my blind and then the buck fever hit as I settled in on the one that was the largest of the 2 shaking breathing hard oh my. Finally get my shot off the deer jumped straight up turned 180 and took off. Took a few seconds to get my breathing under control so after that the tracking began went to where I had seen and shot at the deer seen blood alright so started following the blood trail some 60 yards later found my deer let out a yell. Then dragged the deer back to my blind and wait for supervision on how to gut the deer. 30-30 marlin 170 grain bullet. My uncle and a friend of the family show up and tell what to do. That was back in 1984.
 
Still hunting when I was 16, had hunted hard opening day with my uncle who decided not to hunt the second day, too busy he said, so off I went solo, went to a new piece of woods I hadnt been in the day before and jumped a couple of deer, any deer was legal so I let loose with a 12 gauge slug, missed, followed em and jumped em again but no shot, went slowly after em and came over a little rise to see a small doe standing broad side, aimed at the shoulder, not behind like I was supposed to, shot and off she ran. After much looking and one final kill shot she was down. Shot and gutted my first deer that day and drug it all the way back to uncles, 2 hunters drove up in a small wagon said hello had I seen their buddy, no..so they just drove off, maybe just a little jealous a punk kid had scored and they didnt. It was about a 1/2 mile to my uncles but I was one happy kid..
 
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