Your first deer story

Figured we could pass some time by telling everyone about your first deer you killed.

Mine was when I was probably 25-26 years old and I got invited to go with my buddy to 640 acres he had access too. I had been "hunting" a few other times with my dad and brother years ago but we never shot anything.
Anyways, the hunt where I got my first deer was going to be 2 evenings and 2 days to hunt. I was amped up and ready to shoot the first deer I saw. Well evening 1 comes and go with no action. Same with morning one and evening two. Before our last morning I asked if we could get in our stand a little earlier then usual as the guys at camp would rather drink and sit at the cabin all week instead of hunt. Anyways I'm following my buddy on a 4 wheeler to my stand for the day and he jumps a doe off the feeder as he was in front of me. I hurry up and park my 4 wheeler in the brush and monkey up my stand. It's a minute or so before legal shooting light and I look up and see a deer at the feeder 80 yards away. I immediately grabbed my gun and raise it up finding the deer in my scope. It's a doe and I am ready.....except for my rifle keeps shaking for some reason
I was so excited that I had to lower my gun and try to relax. I finally composed myself enough to put the crosshairs on her and squeeze away. Boom!!! Where is she? Being my first time to ever shoot a deer I wasn't sure what to expect. My buddy texts me and ask if I'm ok as there is no way I shot a deer that quickly after arriving.

After telling him I really did shoot a deer he told me to get down and start looking for blood and he would be there after a bit. I finally get down after a bit still on cloud 9 and walk up to my deer, a small doe fawn I had shot. Since the deer was by herself and I had no idea how big or small she was, plus I really didn't care before I shot.

I caught a little friendly grief for shooting a fawn, but I learned how to field dress a deer right there and took her to the processer soon after.

That day got this city slicker hooked and I've been at it ever since then. When I read about people getting buck fever, I know exactly what they mean as I went through that with my first deer.

So let's hear about your first one.

I was 10 sitting on a pipeline with my grandfather. Buck came out way way down the pipeline. Put gun up and all I remember seeing was horns. Settled cross hairs behind his shoulder and squeezed off shot. I remember seeing another deer take odd running so I thought I had missed. I come to and realize my grandfather us getting onto me for shooting when he was steadily saying don't shoot it's to far don't shoot. I never even heard him talking I was so excited. We waited about 30 min and then he said should at least go look. Got down there and there it was, a young basket rack 8 point. Dropped square in its tracks. Grandfather stepped it off with long steps at 355 steps. A long lucky shot for a 10 yr old with a 243. I'll have to find the picture somewhere.

I was prob about 12 and my dad took me up to some public land in North Florida. We walked through some swampy woods and finally found a large oak that had fallen and we sat on it and waited. After about an hour I spotted 3 doe and he told me to get ready there is prob a buck following them. The doe ran right by us and here came a buck I got ready to raise my gun up and before I even got it to my shoulder my dad shoots at it and then shoots again he missed twice I never even got a chance at it. That about sums up my hunting experiences with my dad.

I was 23 years old, stalking up on field looking for a doe. As I was about to hit the clearing a mountain lion walked out about 40 yards in front of me, he never saw me, I shot and missed.
I figured my hunt was done, so I headed back to the house. As I was almost back I walked up on a buck at about 30 yards. I dropped him where he stood.
That was 28 years ago and I was talking trash like I was some gifted stalking machine. I have never been able to stalk animals like I did that day ever again.

I was hunting on a small place where I kept some horses. Got there before sunup and waited until about 8:00 then I had to leave to go to work. On the way back to the truck I see a doe and a 9 point buck following her. Took 2 shots but I got him and still have the antlers. A great day.

Seems like it was just yesterday...oh wait. It almost was! Haha. Cant wait to see if my time researching will pay off this year.

My story:
http://texashuntingforum.com/forum/ubbthreads.php/topics/6020269/1
My story:

Mine was three years ago. Before that I had only hunted for deer one time with my dad when I was about 20. I didn't see anything that day, but to me it really didn't matter. Reason being is because at that time I only had two things on my mind.....partying and women! Fast forward 12 years later and my wife and I were fortunate enough to move onto 120 acres of family property. I had always been a fisherman, but hunting just wasn't something that I had really experienced. So I put up a feeder and a camera to see if there was any kind of game on the place. To my surprise deer were coming on a regular basis, including a nice big mature 10 pointer. I decided he was gonna be my first deer......or so I thought! You see, I really didn't understand the meaning of pressure at the time. I ended up buying a cheap starter bow and plopped a ground blind 20 yards from the feeder. Needless to say, I didn't end up taking that deer! I finally realized that I was doing it all wrong after doing some research and reading this forum so i moved that blind and put up a tree stand. I hunted my arse off that season and finally ended up connecting on my first deer. Not with a bow, but with a 30-06 in that tree at about 40 yards away. It was late in the evening with about 15 min of legal shooting light when he walked out. The only thing I saw was a set of antlers when he came out from behind a cedar tree. I didn't really have time to judge the size of his antlers, but to me they were really big. I put the sights on him and squeezed the trigger. I made a good shot and he dropped about 15 yards away from where I connected. I actually thought he was the 10 I was after, but it happened so fast I couldn't really tell. At that time the adrenaline was pumping so hard and I was shaking so bad that I couldn't even think about climbing down that tree stand. So first thing I did after I shot him was call my dad......from the tree stand! Although he didn't end up being the big 10 I was after, I was proud of that deer! He ended being a 15 in wide main frame six with a little kicker, and his euro mount is hanging in my living room! Since that day it has become a bit of an obsession, and fishing has kind of taken a backseat to my new hunting addiction. Oh, and that 10 is still running around here.......and I can only hope that he slips up this year!

My first deer experience was visiting my uncle Hulen in the summer. He was poor and lived in the middle of nowhere. He picks up a rifle and shoots a small buck eating in his garden. I wouldn't call it hunting, he was old school and that's how he lived.

I'm sure he never had a license and later learned that deer season wasn't in the summer.

It is important to add he was always respectful of nature and hunted out of need to survive.

I was 20 and had just gotten on a lease in San Saba with a high school buddy. I'd hunted by walking in the woods as a kid shooting a shotgun at whatever flew but I'd never had a chance to hunt deer. That weekend was thunderstorming so bad we couldn't leave the campers for a day and a half. My buddy wanted to go home but I was having non of it. I wanted to hunt. Finally, the rain started to slow in the late afternoon so I headed to my stand. I had hunted that stand before but only seen does. This day was different and it taught me a lesson about deer movement after a storm that I still remember.

The feeder had not even gone off when the rain completely cleared and the pasture came alive with deer! There were small bucks and does everywhere it seemed. And when the feeder went off, all I remember is lots of points coming from over a hill behind the feeder. I was so anxious I didn't wait for him to come to the feeder but took a 200 yd shot and missed. I reloaded and aimed just above his back and hit him. He didn't run far when the 30-06 connected. It was a perfectly semetrical, pencil thin, young 10 point with very light colored antlers. I was ecstatic.

As an aside, he was also my first attempt at a homemade euro. I found out that if you take a nap while the pot is on the burner it might boil dry and burn the skull black. That deer is now an antler mount on a wooden plaque in the one room my wife let's me decorate. I have since killed many more deer and larger bucks but that memory hasn't faded and that mount is in a prominent place on my wall.

I was 13 and we were hunting in Eastland county, I killed a small 4 point with a blot action 30/30 with open sights at about 60 yards and I couldn't have been happier if it had scored 150.That was 58 years ago and will never forget that moment.

I was probably 28 and went on my first deer hunt. Big ranch with old blinds and no feeders. Blind was full of owl poop so stunk to high heaven. I had duck hunted that morning up on the Red and then drove to friends ranch for the afternoon hunt so I was very tired. A young six showed up in the middle of the cows that were using my stand to scratch. It came in behind me just walking by so I had to shoot at an awkward position. Not a far shot but it ran. Never found it. A few specks of blood. Didn't realize I was next to the neighbors property that he ran to so he could have been dead 20 yards in but the place was so full of cedars we couldnt see anything. I said next time, don't put me on a fenceline when you have 3,000 acres! I was so sick so I immediately went and got my first lease to try and make up for it. I got a deer a year later same ranch but different stand. Heart shot and ran 50 yards and did a somersault. Young 8 at 160 yards. 92 degrees in Dec hunting in tennis shoes and shorts. I have taken about 25 deer since but still remember those hunts more than any.

I was 7 hunting north of Sterling City. I was walking some canyons with a friend of my dads. We jumped a forkhorn and I shot him in the back of the neck with my 30-30. I remember he turned a flip.

I'm waiting for "I'd just finished my 8th beer as we got to a remote county road....."

I didn't have a stand so my older brother drove me to a small clearing off a logging rd where there was a board nailed up in a tree with spikes to climb up. He had me rope up a old 30 carbine that was our dad's, he then left to hunt an abandoned stand 300 yrds up the rd. an hour or so went by and to my right about 40 yrd's quartering to me was a old 9 pt , he took two hit's from that carbine and ran about 100 yrd's or so. That buck was my first Deer 9pt , 13" inside 16" tall, That was 1983 I was 13 yr's old . He was an old deer 5-6 yrs , we ate a lot of chili off him. His shoulder mount is still on my wall.

I was 8 years old and we were hunting a family ranch just outside of Wimberely, TX. We didn't own a rifle, so my Pop borrowed a 6MM Jap rifle from a friend. It was opening morning and around 25 degrees! I shot a doe at 80 yards. She didn't run at all. No one else killed a deer that morning and I'm pretty sure we were the only ones hunting. All my family made a big deal about me getting a deer. Our camp cook made venison stew that night with the backstraps from my deer. It was the best meal ever. Santa gave me a Marlin 30-30 for Christmas that year. 45 years later, I still have the gun.

1970 hunting with my Dad in an old log blind outside Luckenbach. Told Dad I had to go. Bad. He said to go down by the creek, downwind of the stand, and take care of business.

You'd have to see his face for the full effect. I get back in the blind and it goes like this...

"Er, uh son, did everything go alright?"

Mhmm.

A few minutes later, "son, are you sure everything went ok?

Mhmm.

A few more and "son, did you remember to bring toilet paper with you?"

No sir.

"Well how did you wipe?"

My finger

"Where did you wipe your finger?"

On my shirt.

"Well son, I guess we might as well walk back to the car"

On the way back I killed a spike buck, my first deer. .30-.30 offhand at all of 30 yards.

I was 11. Hunted on a lease in Garden Ridge, Texas. Was sitting with my mom because my dad jacked up his back and couldn't walk for a while. Shot a nice little buck, would have been an 8pt, but the right main beam was busted off at the head. High shoulder shot with my older brothers 270 win shooting 130 grain bronze points. Fell at the shot and never moved.

My dad said I could start deer hunting when I could hit a quarter at 25 yards with a .22 and then do it again with a deer rifle. I cant remember if I had to do the second round with my Grandad's .218Bee or my 22-250.

Anyways, I got that knocked out and I was ready. I don't remember a whole lot about my first deer, but I was hunting with my Grandad out by Lake Buchanan and was 5 years old. A big doe walked out, and I had to crawl into Grandad's lap to get high enough to shoot out of the window of our box blind. It seemed like we were 20 feet off the ground in that old rickety blind, but I'm guessing it was 8-10 feet up. Line the scope up, squeeze one off and down she goes.

I actually came across the picture of my first deer stuck to my 25 yard target at my parents house a while back.



My first buck was a bit different, and my dad still razzes me about that day. Dad and I were in the same rickety blind when I was 7 and a really nice 10 point walks out. I kept pestering dad that I wanted to shoot him, and he insisted he do it since I had buck fever so bad. I finally convinced him to let me shoot, BOOM, and the deer runs off. He said I was shaking so bad, the whole stand felt like it was going to come down and it was one of the biggest deer he had seen at that point. Not sure what happened next (I probably got chewed on a little for missing and not letting dad take the shot), but about 5-10 minutes later a little pencil horn 8 point walks out. By that time I had calmed down enough that I thought I could do it right this time. I get it dad's lap, squeeze the trigger, and the deer runs off again! I think dad had enough at that point, so we got down to go look for blood on the first deer. Not a drop of blood, hair, or anything. We then walk to where the 8 point was when I shot, and there he was, probably 20 yard from where I had shot.

^^^ That's awesome

8 years old with a .303 british. Doe walks out I shoot, fall off my chair look out the window and she's on the ground. A little buck is now trying to mount her so pow, i'm back on the ground. When they came to pick me up my uncle asked me why all the shooting. I pointed over at them and said "the first came out and I got it the second on was trying to push the first one out of the trail so i got him too." They laughed and a few years later I got the joke. That was almost 35 yrs ago.

100% true! ... and you got chewed out not for missing the deer, you got chewed out for the shot you attempted. Immediately following the shot, the deer looked around in all directions, it left quicker than I could get a gun up (having a 7 year old with one of the worst cases of buck fever sitting in my lap) ... I whispered "where did you try to shoot him?" ... "his neck!!!" ... "UH WHAT, HIS NECK???, WHY HIS NECK INSTEAD OF HIS SHOULDER LIKE WE PRACTICED???" ... "I dunno" ... I was fuming, it was the 10 point I had only seen across the north fence (Goodrich Ranch, 20k acres) the three previous seasons, heck of a deer before I knew anything about scoring, but suspect upper 140s to low 150s looking back.

Never a trophy, but have shot several nice culls trying to push a dead doe off the trail .

OK I'll chime in, great stories here. I was 12, Dad had a place in San Saba, basically a goat ranch we could hunt on. He pulled me out of school at noon for the drive. It was a box stand with a lid, worst design I've ever seen. Only way into the stand was leaning over the open top and trying to do a controlled fall. He said I had tags for anything, so if I see a deer without spots shoot it. Right at first light a big fat doe came wandering down the trail about 75 yards in front of me. I waited for her to make the turn, shot, and she dropped. Dad had told me that if I shot, just stay in the box until he got here. So I'm sitting there, looking at my doe, and a young 6-point comes down the trail behind her. So, of course I shoot him, too. He drops. Dad shows up behind me, "Did you get one?" "Yeah," I said. "Why'd you shoot twice?" "I got'em both!" The next year at 13 I killed a buck that took 2nd place in the county and that bastard goat farmer priced us off the lease. I always felt kinda' bad about that.

This was the '77 nd '78 seasons.

1971 on my grandfather's 50 acres out Vance Jackson in San Antonio. Feeding consisted of throwing some corn out on the ground and sitting in a dilapidated box blind. Little buck (5 pts. on two, spindly beams?) comes out and I beg dad to let me shoot it. I think all he saw was a cleaning chore, but he reluctantly said okay. .30-30 goes bang, deer drops. He did put the horns on a plaque, glued an envelope on the back with my age, where killed, etc. I still have the horns. I did the same thing for 2 of my girls when they killed their first buck (one was 13 points and the other was a nice 8 with 18" spread).

My grandfather sold all but a couple of acres around the house about 2 years later. Mission Trace condos went in. 'Learned my first lesson in "urban sprawl".

One daughter was in middle school when she shot her first buck. This was at the height of the AIDS scare. I let her help me clean it, but before she stuck her hands in the body cavity, she turns to me and says "Can I get AIDS doing this?" She's now a physician.

Was hunting with my dad on the last day of the season, a small fork horn walked out and my dad let me shoot it because it was my first deer and we hadent seen much all season. Only to get yelled at by the landowner for shooting a deer he deemed too small (which it was), but it was my first deer and i was proud of it. That kind of ruined trophy hunting for me, im all for land management and only taking mature deer, but sometimes you just have to enjoy yourself. People take it too seriously sometimes and i feel like they miss the whole point, like a kids first deer.

http://huntingwithmydad.blogspot.com/?view=flipcard#!/2012/12/first-deer.html

Few of my deer stories

My first deer was a spike, back around 1960. The dog guys let the dogs loose, and the spike jumped up from a briar patch and I let fly with my Savage single shot 410. My first experience in poor shot placement, but we did find the deer. I was super excited. I can close my eyes now and see those spikes shining in the morning sun.

But that pales in comparison with my buddy Walter's first deer. He blasted it with a 12 ga and buckshot. He ran to it, and every time it twitched, he shot it again. That was before anybody got to him and suggested he quit shooting. His dad told me later that there wasn't much edible meat left.

Spring Break 2007. My third ever hunting trip. We were on 300acres high fenced in London, TX, then known as the Serengeti Ranch. Started off hunting safari style from a mule with guide Victor, me, dad, family friend, and uncle. Then we did some walking and glassing; almost had a shot but we couldn't tell if it was a buck or a doe--fallow deer. Got back on the mule and did more driving, seeing zebra, waterbuck, oryx, ram, whitetails and sika. But no fallow!

As the day drew to an end, Victor decided to put us in blinds. He put my uncle and family friend in a blind with the feeder at about 70yd and took me and my dad with him to another, more open area in which the blind was 100yd from the feeder. We got settled in--Victor had already taken the sling off of my gun to make it easier to shoot off sticks--with me on my dad's lap. We opened the window, put foam on the sill, and I lookrd through the scope to make sure all was good. Then, we opened the left window a tad bit, and hung the rifle between the two openings.

A little while later, 3 fallow shed bucks--in all 3 colors too--started making their way towards us from the feeder. They got to spitting distance! As the deer got closer and closer, Victor told me that a) if they spook nothing else will come, b) if they don't spook then they'll come back with the rest of the herd, and c) don't let them see you blink. My dad and Victor both looked down but I locked eyes with one of the bucks and didn't move a muscle. I still remember how hard that was--we stared down for 15 minutes, but for some reason my blinking didn't bother him. Also, I was at the age where I wouldn't stand in manicured lawns without shoes and socks, because the grass would make my feet uncomfortable--darn city slickers, right? So, in the heat, with Daddylonglegs, gnats, and flies, I managed not to shriek and eventually the deer made their way back into the brush.

30-40 minutes later, the whole group of mixed bucks, doe, and youngsters came in. They were about 30 of them, and clustered together. I was getting neither a broadside nor a clear shot. Finally, a chocolate doe veered off to the left. But she went too far! A cluster of branches the fit her silhouette exactly was in my line of fire. I was super excited by now. My heart was racing as I placed the crosshairs on her armpit. She went deeper into the trees and I got disheartened, but Victor said she'll come back--and she did! Soon as she was clear--well her haunches were covered but vitals and head/neck were clear--I pulled the trigger behind her shoulder. She dropped on the spot! I had aimed behind the shoulder like you're supposed to in the video games, but ended up hitting her where my dad wanted me to: smack dab in the neck.

The whole video for this hunt and the rest of the trip is somewhere on a lost computer, but my dialogue after watching her fall is forever etched in my family's memory: a high pitched and very enthusiastic "Oooooh yeah! Oooooh yeah!" Now, a decade later, my last deer kill was solo, @ 108yd, and a brain-spilling head shot. The excitement and happiness will always remain, but the wow-feeling of my successful harvest has eluded me since then.

So sad....I can't remember the first deer that I killed. I know I was 10 and that was 57 years ago. But what worries me more is that I can't remember the first girl that I kissed.......It really really sucks getting old.

I had hunted several years before finally getting my first buck. In those days in Mississippi you got one buck tag for the season and deer sightings were few and far between. It was about a week into Christmas break and I had hunted since season opened without having seen a buck at all. Got up to go hunting and it was pouring rain so decided to sleep in. About 8am the rain stopped so went hunting to a stand in a large pin oak in a thick overgrown field where visibility was short but good deer trails through there. I had not been in the stand very long when what I thought at first was a doe came by but as it stopped to browse on a low hanging limb of the tree I was in turned its head and I saw large flat buttons on its head. I opened fire with the lever action 30-30 First shot the deer went down and got back up almost as quick, second shot same result then it came up running back from where it had come from. One other shot at it running off and it was gone. I sat there for about 15 minutes and got out of the tree. There was lots of bright frothy blood on the wet ground and the trail it took leaving. I followed that about 50 yards and there he was. Have killed lots of deer since but never have recovered another that had was on its belly with front legs folded back and back legs stretched straight out the back. Looked like it hit that way and slid about 5 feet in the leaves and briars.

I drug it about 150 yards to the edge of a field where I saw my Dad and neighbor walking across the field. By that time I was glad to see them with a half mile drag left across muddy fields to where we could get the truck to it.

A state biologist stopped by when he saw us with the deer and ask if he could age him, he pulled the jaw bone and aged the buck at 9 1/2 or more. There wasn't much left for teeth. The "antlers" were polished knots about the size of a silver dollar only a little over a quarter inch high. He ask how I saw them and when I explained about him browsing on the tree I was sitting in he said ok.

almost 40 years later I still remember that one well.

There is a bit of a lead in to my first deer killed story. My dad had a large group of guys (10-12) that hunted together for years before I came along. They had gotten to know the area sheriff’s deputies and Game Wardens pretty good, most being business owners/ranchers/construction from the same local area. They had the tradition of inviting the hunter’s families (wife & children) and the Game Wardens out for dinner the evening before deer season to clean out the last ruminants of wild game from their freezers making room for the fresh kills of the coming season. Most of the hunter’s showed up during the day on Friday to go check stands, finish clearing shooting lanes, etc. and then back to camp to start preparing food the feast for the evening with all the guests. This was well before anyone used feeders (at least in our hunting circles) and most stands were a couple boards nailed up in a tree 8-20 feet off the ground or a hollowed out brush pile with a metal folding chair in the middle, generally on a trail or a cross fence line for a shooting alley. The lease was so much $ for the hunting rights, not per hunter and each of the hunters could bring their immediate family to hunt with them. Hunting season always started the Saturday following Nov. 16 and ended on January 1 regardless of when it fell, doe tags were issued to the land owner and they would hand out (or not) to the hunters. Dad’s lease was up on top of White Bluff overlooking Lake Buchanan, the old Garrett place, 900+ acres up on top and about 120 on the bottom including an old fishing camp that was our camp house. It was about a 1 mile drive down a FM road to a gate, passed thru 4 other land owner’s property and some really nasty steep rutted out roads to get up to the top of the bluff to enter into the larger portion of our lease. I had been going to deer camp dinner the past 2 years with mom & my brother but I was too young to stay overnight much less hunt. I had been working on my shooting with a bb gun and an old single shot .22 in the back yard killing birds out of our fig tree. After a similar test to what ZK-315 posted on hitting a quarter 3 times at 25 yards, Dad had deemed me as ready to actually get to hunt this year, I was just shy of my 5th birthday.

The first deer I shot … it was the Friday before the opening day of season in 1963, midafternoon my dad and one of his hunting buddies (Cliff) decided to drive up to the top to put a few more nails and boards in a couple of the tree stands and work on replacing some of the boards that were nailed into the trunk that was used as a ladder. It seemed it took an hour to make the horrible drive thru all the other ranches and up the rough rutted hill just to get to our gate. As we approached the last wire gap that led into our pasture, I saw a doe and a fawn. I got buck fever and showed dad and Cliff (his buddy). As we got thru the gap, the road turned left directly up the fence line where I saw the deer. I had an eagle eye and finally found them again about 100 yards up the road. Dad stopped the truck and he & Cliff talked about me shooting the doe, I wasn’t paying too much attention to them, I was focused on the deer. Finally dad grabbed the little Winchester 1982 lever action 218 Bee and pointed it out the driver’s side window as I crawled up into the stock getting ready for the shot. Dad started whispering to me, remember, deep breath and sque “BOOM” (eze the trigger, he never got to finish his directions to me). I saw the deer drop but Dad and Cliff were violently shaking their heads in shock as the smoke cleared out of the cab of the truck. Evidently the end of the barrel wasn’t quite outside the cab and we all couldn’t hear a thing from the sonic boom concussion that just transpired inside the cab of a 1957 Chevy truck. Once we all came back to our senses, dad said “you missed!!! I saw the doe run off!!!” … I said “no, it dropped right where I shot it!!!” as I was about to crawl over dad’s lap to get out to go see my deer. Dad and Cliff looked at each other and we all bailed out of the truck. I was over the fence in a heartbeat, while they walked back to the wire gap to go investigate and see if I was right. By the time they got to the gap, I was holding up the head of my first deer, proud as could be. They both had a shocked look on their faces, since they both thought I missed AND realized I had just killed a deer, over the fence, the day before season opened and we had Game Wardens coming to dinner. Cliff grabbed my deer by the leg and took off almost running to the gap, dad and I in close pursuit. He chunked the deer in the bed of the truck as dad and I got in, started the engine, Cliff jumped in and off we went towards the middle of the pasture to get it gutted and skinned, quickly. Dad handed me a shovel and said dig a hole. They quickly got the deer quartered and into a cardboard box, then tossed the skeletal remains, head and hide into the hole I dug and quickly covered it up. My dad ribbed me until the last season he was living (2003 season) about me shooting Bambi and the 218 Bee knocking to spots off that fawn along with the milk from its lips. It couldn’t have field dress much more than 25 lbs. Anyway, we quickly headed back down the hill, didn’t get any of the stands worked on since we had fresh meat in the truck and wanted to get back to camp well before guests arrived. We got back to camp and finishing cutting up the entire deer, battering and frying along with home fries and cream gravy … just as the guests started showing up. In all, there were about 25-30 people, wives, children and the two local Game Wardens and their families. Everyone had a nice time visiting and eating. One of the Game Wardens made the comment to my dad and a couple of the other hunters that had done all the cooking how wonderful everything was … and one of the GW asked “I want to know your trick on how to keep you venison so fresh and not to have any freezer burned meat after 10 months in the freezer?” … Dad’s response (classic) was “oh, we just went out and shot one this afternoon so we had fresh meat for ya’ll” … and then he broke out laughing like it was a joke. They took the bait and laughed it off as well. Later than evening after all the guests had left, the hunters took a deep sigh of relief over the stress of a 4 y/o kid shooting a deer to feed to the local GWs … it became quite a joke around camp for many years to follow but they never offered for me to shoot another one before the season opener. Although that was about 53 years ago, I still remember everything vividly including the concerned look on dad & cliff’s faces when I shot. AND, that was the best tasting and most tender venison I have ever eaten …

My first (and so far only) was just two years ago. A buddy of mine invited me to hunt on his lease as a guest and so I went out two months before the season and picked a spot on a game trail and dropped a bag or two of corn. I kept corning the spot through deer season but work kept me from actually doing any hunting. It wasn't until the very last weekend of the doe/anterless season that I finally got a chance. On Friday night I dropped one of those popup doghouse blinds near my corn spot and sat in it until 1 in the afternoon. Not much happened. I came back that evening and after a while I noticed two does standing about 20 yards from the blind and staring at me hard. Finally, they circled around to the pile and started eating. About that time I realized I had forgotten to bring my shooting sticks so I had to shoot offhand. After the shot the doe ran off to the north. Great ... either I had missed or I was going to have to track her. Either way I was feeling like a failure. So I walked up to the corn and found some blood. I was elated! I hadn't missed after all. I started walking in the direction she'd run and there she was. Only about 40 yards away. It was getting late so I called the processor to make sure they'd wait for me then I got busy field dressing. Having only field dressed small game before I'm not sure that I did that good a job at it. But I got it done and the processor didn't seem to think I had butchered it too bad. I also got to meet our game warden as he was there checking deer as they came in. Best tasting deer ever! Well ... until the next one.

My family didn't believe in deer stands for generations. My dad built a plywood box stand with an elevated chair mount so I could see out. First time we sat in the blind together, dad killed an 8 point. The second night, dad killed a 9 point that I spotted first. I was 2-3 years old at the time....and I was hooked. This was in Kerr county.

I was 7 when I killed my first deer. 3 point buck with a British .303 with a shortened stock for youth. I may have hit the deer in the leg, but dad's .270 knocked him down. I was pumped! This was in Hamilton county on family land on opening afternoon.

A few weeks later, we were back in Kerr county for the annual family Thanksgiving hunt. I was sitting with my grandma. I had just finished taking a leak out of the door of the stand and grandma told me to hurry up because a buck was coming in. The British .303 rang...the buck went 10-15 yards and piled up. I was really pumped!

I'm 28 now. I've never missed an opening morning of deer reason, rain or shine, since I was 7 years old. My grandma remains one of the best shots in the family to this day although she has become more selective in what she shoots.

Blessed to be raised in a hunting family.

My first was when I had just turned 7. Dad had had me practicing with a 22 for a couple of years and finally, that year, started me with a little 30 carbine he'd borrowed from someone. We hunted on a ranch just north of Georgetown (just past where the Dell Webb community is now). The Game Warden had told them they needed to take some 200 does off of the place but didn't have any way to 'tag' that many. He just gave the land owner a pile of doe permits (remember those?) and told him to 'have at 'em'.
Dad and I were out early that weekend. In those days, the season opened in Williamson county on Nov. 15. Regardless of the day of the week. I'd turned 7 the week before and Dad took me out of school to go hunting. We were driving along and saw a small herd of deer go across the two-track in front of us so Dad stops and we start a 'stalk'. We walked up about 50 yards from the road and spotted a little doe (there were so many, they were ALL small). Dad found me a short forked oak tree for a rest and I lined up the doe in the peep site. One shot and she was down. I ended up filling all 3 tags that first season. I didn't take a buck until I was 10 or 11.
The most memorable part of that hunt was finding out that my Dad was also my 'hunting buddy'.
Dad left us in 2008 and every hunting season hasn't been the same without him. I now have a grandson that I get to take out hunting. He's my new 'hunting buddy' and I live for the days we get to spend in the field. I now know what my Dad had in me because I have it in my Grandson.

gut shot a doe right before dark when i was 8. things drastically improved from that point forward.