My First Deer

Warning: This post is about hunting. There will be photos of a dead deer; some of which contain blood. Out of respect for those who prefer not to see those types of images, I have used a fairly innocuous cover photo. If that includes you, please refrain from scrolling down.

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I started deer hunting four years ago. I grew up fishing and hunting small game like rabbit, squirrel, and dove; but I never went deer hunting. Needless to say, there was a huge learning curve that first season. I got skunked! I don’t think I saw a single deer all season. I heard them bellowing out in the woods. I heard them as they went screeching off through the trees after seeing/hearing/smelling me. Some would have called it a disappointing season, but I preferred to think of it as a motivating season. I spent the following spring and summer studying the ground that I have permission to hunt. I zeroed in on an area that I thought would be good and fixed up an old box stand that was already sitting there.

Season two was only slightly better. I saw a few deer from my box stand, but they were always off in the woods to my left - an area where I hadn’t cleared a shooting lane. But, again, this was a learning experience. I did some more scouting, and I found a little saddle that looked pretty well traveled. My next couple of times out, I set up my popup blind along it, and my suspicions were verified. But, alas, there were always limbs between my crossbow bolt and the target. That spring, I found a tree that offered a better view of the area and set up a stand about 15 feet up.

Season three was when the tables began to turn. I had ideal stand placement, and deer were coming in on a regular basis. By this time, I had learned about odor control. I consistently had deer coming well with shooting range, even with my crossbow. The only thing between me and my first deer was all of those pesky vines and branches. However, I was able to restrain myself on all but one occasion. I must admit: I did take one ill-advised shot at a doe that wes well within range. It was still quite early in the morning, so the lighting wasn’t great, but I knew that there were probably branches in the way. I tried to convince myself not to fire, but it was the first halfway decent opportunity I’d had in three years! Before I knew it, I had pulled the trigger. I heard the crack of my arrow as it hit a tree. Even though the deer bolted off unfazed, I worried that I may have injured it, so I climbed down out of my stand and searched the area. All that I could find of my arrow was a single blade that had broken off, and there was no trace of blood anywhere. Even though I was almost positive that I had completely missed, I still walked out of the woods feeling sick to my stomach. I decided, then and there, that I would never take another shot unless I was sure it was unobstructed and would result in a clean kill. I had to clear some shooting lanes. Unfortunately, the season was only halfway over, and I was afraid that making too many changes would cause the deer to change their pattern. It was a risk that I had to take. I went in with a chainsaw and leveled everything within 10 yards around my stand and several lanes spreading out in different directions. Of course, I way overdid it and ruined my spot for the rest of the season, so I gave up on killing a deer and decided to sight in my shotgun for next year. The table was set for a successful season four.

Season four arrived… and I was not feeling it. We had moved about 45 minutes away just a few months earlier and were still working on getting settled. We were on the road for an hour and a half just to get to and from work and the kids to school. Add extra curricular activities to that, and exhausted was an understatement! I hadn’t missed an opening day since I began hunting, but it wasn’t even a blip on my radar, this year. I hadn’t been out to my spot since the end of last season. I hadn’t put out any corn. I honestly didn’t even know if my stand was still up in the tree. When modern gun season rolled around, - all two days of it in the zone where I hunt - I was on the fence about going. I had been planning on it all the way up until the night before. Reality set in when I sat my alarm... for 3:45 in the morning! I told my wife that I was thinking about just sleeping in and hanging out around the house. “No! You are GOING hunting tomorrow!” was her reply.

Several hours later, I was up and at’em. I took my shower with odor killing soap, poured myself a thermos full of coffee, and pulled my clothes out of my air-tight dirt scented bin - except for my coveralls. They don’t come out until I’m at my hunting spot. I looked for my good, warm boot, for a good 30 minutes, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember where I had put them up. I ended up settling for my old, uninsulated pair with a hole in the side of the right boot. Once everything was loaded into the truck, I hit the road.

The drive was fairly uneventful, with the exception of a huge meteor that streaked through the sky in front of me. It was the brightest and longest lasting shooting star I have ever seen! For a brief second, the thought crossed my mind that it could be a good omen of things to come. Then, I chuckled, because I’m not superstitious.

But, I am a little stitious.
-Michael Scott

I arrived at my hunting spot about an hour before sunrise. I got all of my stuff together, put my harness on, and walked stealthily into the woods. I arrived at my stand location to find everything still in tact and climbed up. It was a cold, windy morning, and my toes were already freezing by the time the sun began peeking over the horizon even in spite of the three pairs of socks and toe warmers.

My first deer came in at around 8:30. It was a small yearling followed by her mother. I wasn’t about to shoot either one of them. Had the older doe been by herself, she may have ended up being dinner, but I don’t have it in me to shoot a momma deer in front of her baby. I sat and watched for a few minutes before they busted me and took off screeching through the woods. After the adrenaline wore off, I began to remember how cold I was. Thinking that I was just being a wimp, I checked the weather on my phone. It was 28 degrees F. That is really cold for these parts! But, I couldn’t climb down that early. I decided to tough it out for a while longer.

By about 10:30, my toes were numb, and nothing else had wandered by, so I decided to break for an early lunch. I made the short drive into town, pulled into Sonic, and ate while my feet thawed. It also dawned on me that maybe I should have put my toe warmers on the first layer of socks instead of the outer layer. I rearranged them and headed back into the woods.

The afternoon hunt was a lot more eventful than the morning. Not long after I climbed back up, three bucks came through. We have a 3-point rule here in my part of the state: you can’t shoot a buck unless it has at least points on at least one side. Only one of these three were legal. He was a decent sized 6 point. With the rut at hand, I kind of expected to see them fight it out for dominance, but they seemed to be hanging out together. They made their way over the hill without giving me a shot.

I settled back in. After an hour or so, I heard another deer cruising through just on the other side of the hill and then another somewhere behind me. That was it until about 3:00. By then, I was beginning to get a little chilly, again. I still had a few hours of daylight, but I was beginning to wonder if they might not be better spent doing other things. I had pretty much convinced myself to climb down and go home when I heard a sound from behind me. It was another yearling doe; this one much smaller than the one from that morning. So small, in fact, that I was surprised she didn’t still have spots. But, she didn’t have spots! And, she was alone; no momma around. I began weighing my options. I didn’t want to kill such a small deer. Then again, I didn’t want to go home empty handed, again; and, such a small deer would be awfully tender. I almost had myself convinced when I heard another sound coming from the same direction as the doe. I slowly turned my head, and I immediately knew that this was going to be my first deer.

He was a big eight point, and he was locked in on the little doe. I began to move my gun into position as he inched ever closer to my shooting lane. He must have caught my motion out of the corner of his eye, because he turned and looked straight at me. I froze for what seemed like several minutes before he turned back toward the lady. Again, I started to move my gun. This time, I got it shouldered before he turned back to look at me. I froze again. Again, he turned his attention back toward his intended target, and I aimed the barrel at mine. One last time, he turned to look back, opening up an almost broadside shot. I took a deep breath, began to exhale, and squeezed the trigger. The deer stumbled back a couple of steps and then fell. “Please, don’t get up. Please, don’t get up”, I whispered to myself. Thankfully, he didn’t. My 12 gauge slug had pierced just above his front shoulder at an angle that carried it through at least one lung. It was over within just a few minutes. I climbed down out of my stand, cautiously approached the animal, and thanked God for allowing me to provide for my family.

While I am proud and excited about killing my first deer, it is not something that I take lightly. This animal will not only provide food for my family, but I also plan on using as much of him as I can. I am in the process of making a European skull mount, I have salted the hide to keep it until I can learn how to tan it, and I collected some tendons and back sinew to use for some crafts and projects in the shop. For me, all of these are ways to honor the first deer that gave his life so that my family could live.

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