Sweet! Love your first story.
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Your first.
- Thread starter DroptineKrazy
- Start date
Bring back any memories . . .
To this point in my life the most excited I have ever gotten over any hunting experience was watching over my daughter's shoulder as she took her first buck. It is a truly special experience.
Yeah. I'm still waiting for my grand daughter to shoot her first. Can't wait. Oh, and I am old enough to remember when I used Razorback 5s tooBring back any memories . . .
View attachment 43671
To this point in my life the most excited I have ever gotten over any hunting experience was watching over my daughter's shoulder as she took her first buck. It is a truly special experience.
I thought I might be the one of the few hoarders to still have some of Razorbacks around . . . Guess not.
Haha! I still have a good old string tracker too. Funny thing is, as far as I remember those darn things worked pretty good.
- Joined
- Jun 5, 2020
- Messages
- 1,800
I never used it I don’t think, I remember my first sight was popsicle sticks taped to my bow lol
Sweet!
KYHunter
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jan 20, 2018
- Messages
- 1,113
8th grade(2006 maybe) on our family cattle farm(now sold). Hunting with my dad in his favorite stand. Shot a doe at about 180 yards with a borrowed .270. After that my dad let me buy a real gun in .30-06 so I could stop borrowing that sissy .270
Been hooked ever since and enjoy every hunt I can get with my dad now, especially since we’ve almost lost him twice to medical issues.
Been hooked ever since and enjoy every hunt I can get with my dad now, especially since we’ve almost lost him twice to medical issues.
My dad still has some of those in the closet. He hunted until I was about 20. He couldn't take the cold, and said he sat there and just thought about all the things he could be doing. Tried to get him back into it a few times. But no luck. So for the most part I have hunted by my self for the last 15years. Tried to get my oldest daughter into going. But that fizzled out pretty quick. My boys will be 6 and 4 this fall. We went turkey hunting last spring and they enjoyed all 30 minuets of it. Lol. I have to make some time to cut a blind or 2 in this spring for us this fall. Get some short evening trips in.Bring back any memories . . .
View attachment 43671
To this point in my life the most excited I have ever gotten over any hunting experience was watching over my daughter's shoulder as she took her first buck. It is a truly special experience.
GetHomeSafe
Active Member
I got out of the Air Force in 1975, met the girl who became and still is my wife. I had loved archery since I was 5. My Dad was not a hunter. My brother tried but it didn't take with him and he was 7 years my senior. So after meeting Donna I got to know her brothers and her Dad. They were all bowhun ters. In 1976 I bought a compound, a tree stand, a camo shell, Trebark, arrows, bear razor heads. I hunted a lot that fall, I hit and lost my first deer in Sept, a doe, and shot and killed my first doe in Oct. on a beautiful fall day in the leaf change. The land was scrub oak, jack pines, and sand. And a lot of deer. I hold many good memories from those days. We camped by a creek. We would roll tires down a hill with ballons in them to shoot at. I am 67 now. I have shot a lot of deer since then but those memories are still very sweet. God has blessed me with the health to keep hunting I took up saddle hunting last year. It was an easy adjustment for me as for years I had been wearing a safety harness with D-rings and using two lineman belts (branches) with rope clamps to get up the tree using spurs. God has been so kind to Donna and I. I love the fall colors. Oct is a great time to hunt.
Mine was October 25 2017, my first year hunting. Was scouting in the morning a couple hours after daylight and spotted a few deer browsing their way toward me in a creek bottom. I hid behind a big blowdown and could hear them getting closer and closer. When the first deer sounded like it was in bow range I drew back, popped up from behind the tree and shot him at 5 yards steep quartering to, almost frontal. The arrow burried deep but didn't pass through and he took off running hard. Left almost no blood trail but he didn't go far. Was a big fork horn about as wide as his ears. That deer had way more fat on him than any deer I've shot since and was by far the best venison I've ever eaten.
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2019
- Messages
- 8,126
My first ever deer my Dad pushed to me on a two man drive with a Mossberg 20 gauge that had a big ole' poly choke on the end of it set to improved cylinder. We couldn't use rifles in WNY for many years. That was around 1982 or 83, It had snowed the night before and we sat for the first couple of hours and saw nothing. My Dad had two major "stand" locations we would use for "the big days" (opening day morning, Thanksgiving day morning and last day morning). Otherwise we still hunted or did two man drives and once in awhile when the shooting got slow we would push with my sister's kids who were the same age as me. (Yep, I was an oops.) Anyway, we lived in a valley and had property on both sides of the valley spanning two different ridge lines. One stand was an old milk can he used to sit on near an outside corner on a slight side hill on one side of the valley. The other stand was all away across the valley but almost on the same contour line if you sat and looked across. Both stands were about 2/3 the way up each ridge. We'd watch and shoot the deer "sidehill" it below to their bedding areas all morning. That morning for some reason they were still feeding late and so we started heading to another brushy spot my Dad figured would hold some deer. Back then you could go on each other's property as long as it wasn't on the major sit times like opening day, thanksgiving etc. If you were in your neighbors stand on any of those days you'd get the look pretty well... don't ask me how I know that! Aaanndd, you could forget about anyone helping you drag 'em out either!! Anyway, later that morning we cut the tracks of two or three deer and Dad knew they were hiding in an old brushed up fenceline. When we got up to the brushy patch he motioned me to circle to the left and go out about 50 yards and he would do the same from the other side flanking the brushy area. "Don't shoot toward me if you see one." He then started his flanking move. I would say the thickest part of the brushy fenceline was only like 40 yards long and maybe 30 yards wide. We had a "party permit" that day and so Dad had said "you'll either push em to me or I'll push em to you. I was a greedy little jerk so I laid back and purposefully went much slower than my Dad and yep... he pushed 'em to me. They busted out and circled back to get around my Dad and they never saw me. I was so excited I dumped the first little thing that ran out. It was heading right for me and I aimed right between its two front legs. I didn't know it was a button buck until my Dad came over. I could tell he was pretty proud. We gutted it and sat around the creek after washing the body cavity out. Dad never made me feel like that wasn't my time for the glory. He made me feel like it was for me every time we hunted. I try to be as selfless as he was for me with my kids but man.... he was the best.
rutjr
Well-Known Member
Awesome stories!
DB4x4
Well-Known Member
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2018
- Messages
- 1,870
I gun hunted from the ground my first two seasons with no success. Looking back, I am not sure why I was unsuccessful, considering there were deer EVERYWHERE around here in the 90's. (This was prior to the game commission's decision to kill them all off)
When I turned 14, my uncle bought me a PSE Spyder compound bow. He was a big PSE fan and traveled to different 3D style competitive shoots. The same year, my dad bought a 10 foot ladder stand and we hung it up in the woods behind the house. I practiced all summer and felt like I was competent enough to hit a deer at 20 yards. If nothing else, this would give me another month in the woods. My dad didn't get home from work until 5 PM on weekdays, but gave me the go-ahead to sit in the ladder after school by myself if I wanted.
I came home from school one day, changed into my camo, grabbed my bow, and headed into the woods. At that time, I had a camo vest that I used to carry all of my gear which included my license, a flashlight, and a piece of rope in the game pouch. I had a large Buck fixed blade knife on my belt that resembled something Crocodile Dundee might carry. No backpack, no kill kit, no cell phone, no GPS...none of that, crazy huh?
On my way out to the stand, I heard the sound of deer running in the crunchy, early-October leaves, so I stopped. At first, I was frustrated because I assumed that I had bumped them halfway to the ladder and likely ruined my hunt for the night. However, I quickly realized that the crunching was coming from behind me and getting closer. I wheeled around to find a group of 3 does staring at me from 20 yards away.
I drew my bow as slowly and as smoothly as I could and just when I got to full draw, the string hit the brim of my hat and knocked it down onto my face. Unable to see, I had to let down, this time in a panic, and not so smoothly, and knocked the hat off of my head with my free hand. By now, the lead doe was stomping, snorting, and head-bobbing at me. I drew back quickly, settled the pin behind her shoulder and let my first ever arrow aimed at a deer fly. All 3 deer snorted and took off through the brush.
I was told when you shoot a deer with a bow, you were supposed to wait at least 30 minutes before tracking. However, I had no clue if I had even hit the deer, so I decided to walk up to where she was standing to see if I could find my arrow. When I walked up to the shot site, it looked like something out of a horror movie; there was blood...EVERYWHERE. I didn't know it at the time, but she had ducked my string, and instead of hitting the vitals, the arrow went through her neck and severed the jugular. Because she had already been running prior to the shot, the blood apparently sprayed out like a garden hose.
I knew I was supposed to wait, but my excitement got the best of me. Besides, there's no way any living creature could bleed that extensively and still be alive, right? I started slowly following the crimson runway through the woods, but stopped when I heard and saw a deer run off 30 yards ahead of me. DAMNIT, I knew better and I still blew it. That was probably my deer and I just bumped her in to the next county, I know it. How could I be so foolish? I stood there angry, berating myself for the next 15 minutes, trying to figure out what to do next.
I finally decided if that was, in fact, the deer I shot, it likely wouldn't matter how much longer I stood at this spot. I might as well follow the blood trail another 50 yards and verify if that was her or not. I took 2 steps toward a downed log on the ground, and noticed a white belly on the other side. I froze. Adrenaline took over...you know, again. Wait, is THAT her? I looked at the chest cavity. No movement, no breathing. Also...no hole? Hmm...
I took another step and saw a gaping wound in her neck, and then it all made sense. I crept forward, held my breath, and poked her in the eye with an arrow, waiting to be kicked in the shin or stomach. Nothing. She's dead. I got her. I just shot my first deer. By myself. On the ground. With a bow...
I let out what I can only describe as my best Iroquois battle cry. Anyone within earshot was likely startled and confused...
Now what? I have no clue. I ran at a full sprint through the woods back to the house. Just when I rounded the corner of the garage, I saw my dad pulling into the driveway. He saw his son come around the corner...sweaty, panicked. He jumped out of the truck...
"What's wrong?"
"I got one!"
"Got one, what?"
"A deer!"
"You shot at a deer?"
"No, I shot a deer!"
"...and we need to track it?"
"No, I already found it! It's dead! It's a doe"
:: Pause ::
"...What?"
"C'mon Dad! Get changed and let's go! I can take you right to her! I don't know what to do next!"
Haha - I can't even imagine what was going through his head...
I took him to the deer and he started laughing. "You shot it in the neck?"
"I didn't mean to, it just kind of happened that way."
"Alright, well let's tag her and gut her. Grab that leg and roll her over."
I rolled my long sleeve down over my hand and reluctantly grabbed her bloody front leg...
"Are you serious? Don't be a P%$$Y. Grab the damn deer."
He field dressed it for me, thankfully, since I had no clue what I was doing. I remember being more grossed out about the milk that went everywhere when he cut into the udder than the actual guts. It was only an 80-ish pound doe, but to me it felt like I had just killed a wooly mammoth with a spear. We didn't even drag it out; we lashed the legs together, put a big stick through, and carried it out of the woods on our shoulders.
I actually killed 3 or 4 more with that bow, and a couple with a flintlock muzzleloader before I ever finally shot one with a rifle in the my mid 20's.
When I turned 14, my uncle bought me a PSE Spyder compound bow. He was a big PSE fan and traveled to different 3D style competitive shoots. The same year, my dad bought a 10 foot ladder stand and we hung it up in the woods behind the house. I practiced all summer and felt like I was competent enough to hit a deer at 20 yards. If nothing else, this would give me another month in the woods. My dad didn't get home from work until 5 PM on weekdays, but gave me the go-ahead to sit in the ladder after school by myself if I wanted.
I came home from school one day, changed into my camo, grabbed my bow, and headed into the woods. At that time, I had a camo vest that I used to carry all of my gear which included my license, a flashlight, and a piece of rope in the game pouch. I had a large Buck fixed blade knife on my belt that resembled something Crocodile Dundee might carry. No backpack, no kill kit, no cell phone, no GPS...none of that, crazy huh?
On my way out to the stand, I heard the sound of deer running in the crunchy, early-October leaves, so I stopped. At first, I was frustrated because I assumed that I had bumped them halfway to the ladder and likely ruined my hunt for the night. However, I quickly realized that the crunching was coming from behind me and getting closer. I wheeled around to find a group of 3 does staring at me from 20 yards away.
I drew my bow as slowly and as smoothly as I could and just when I got to full draw, the string hit the brim of my hat and knocked it down onto my face. Unable to see, I had to let down, this time in a panic, and not so smoothly, and knocked the hat off of my head with my free hand. By now, the lead doe was stomping, snorting, and head-bobbing at me. I drew back quickly, settled the pin behind her shoulder and let my first ever arrow aimed at a deer fly. All 3 deer snorted and took off through the brush.
I was told when you shoot a deer with a bow, you were supposed to wait at least 30 minutes before tracking. However, I had no clue if I had even hit the deer, so I decided to walk up to where she was standing to see if I could find my arrow. When I walked up to the shot site, it looked like something out of a horror movie; there was blood...EVERYWHERE. I didn't know it at the time, but she had ducked my string, and instead of hitting the vitals, the arrow went through her neck and severed the jugular. Because she had already been running prior to the shot, the blood apparently sprayed out like a garden hose.
I knew I was supposed to wait, but my excitement got the best of me. Besides, there's no way any living creature could bleed that extensively and still be alive, right? I started slowly following the crimson runway through the woods, but stopped when I heard and saw a deer run off 30 yards ahead of me. DAMNIT, I knew better and I still blew it. That was probably my deer and I just bumped her in to the next county, I know it. How could I be so foolish? I stood there angry, berating myself for the next 15 minutes, trying to figure out what to do next.
I finally decided if that was, in fact, the deer I shot, it likely wouldn't matter how much longer I stood at this spot. I might as well follow the blood trail another 50 yards and verify if that was her or not. I took 2 steps toward a downed log on the ground, and noticed a white belly on the other side. I froze. Adrenaline took over...you know, again. Wait, is THAT her? I looked at the chest cavity. No movement, no breathing. Also...no hole? Hmm...
I took another step and saw a gaping wound in her neck, and then it all made sense. I crept forward, held my breath, and poked her in the eye with an arrow, waiting to be kicked in the shin or stomach. Nothing. She's dead. I got her. I just shot my first deer. By myself. On the ground. With a bow...
I let out what I can only describe as my best Iroquois battle cry. Anyone within earshot was likely startled and confused...
Now what? I have no clue. I ran at a full sprint through the woods back to the house. Just when I rounded the corner of the garage, I saw my dad pulling into the driveway. He saw his son come around the corner...sweaty, panicked. He jumped out of the truck...
"What's wrong?"
"I got one!"
"Got one, what?"
"A deer!"
"You shot at a deer?"
"No, I shot a deer!"
"...and we need to track it?"
"No, I already found it! It's dead! It's a doe"
:: Pause ::
"...What?"
"C'mon Dad! Get changed and let's go! I can take you right to her! I don't know what to do next!"
Haha - I can't even imagine what was going through his head...
I took him to the deer and he started laughing. "You shot it in the neck?"
"I didn't mean to, it just kind of happened that way."
"Alright, well let's tag her and gut her. Grab that leg and roll her over."
I rolled my long sleeve down over my hand and reluctantly grabbed her bloody front leg...
"Are you serious? Don't be a P%$$Y. Grab the damn deer."
He field dressed it for me, thankfully, since I had no clue what I was doing. I remember being more grossed out about the milk that went everywhere when he cut into the udder than the actual guts. It was only an 80-ish pound doe, but to me it felt like I had just killed a wooly mammoth with a spear. We didn't even drag it out; we lashed the legs together, put a big stick through, and carried it out of the woods on our shoulders.
I actually killed 3 or 4 more with that bow, and a couple with a flintlock muzzleloader before I ever finally shot one with a rifle in the my mid 20's.
Great story! I really enjoyed reading it. Thanks for sharing.I gun hunted from the ground my first two seasons with no success. Looking back, I am not sure why I was unsuccessful, considering there were deer EVERYWHERE around here in the 90's. (This was prior to the game commission's decision to kill them all off)
When I turned 14, my uncle bought me a PSE Spyder compound bow. He was a big PSE fan and traveled to different 3D style competitive shoots. The same year, my dad bought a 10 foot ladder stand and we hung it up in the woods behind the house. I practiced all summer and felt like I was competent enough to hit a deer at 20 yards. If nothing else, this would give me another month in the woods. My dad didn't get home from work until 5 PM on weekdays, but gave me the go-ahead to sit in the ladder after school by myself if I wanted.
I came home from school one day, changed into my camo, grabbed my bow, and headed into the woods. At that time, I had a camo vest that I used to carry all of my gear which included my license, a flashlight, and a piece of rope in the game pouch. I had a large Buck fixed blade knife on my belt that resembled something Crocodile Dundee might carry. No backpack, no kill kit, no cell phone, no GPS...none of that, crazy huh?
On my way out to the stand, I heard the sound of deer running in the crunchy, early-October leaves, so I stopped. At first, I was frustrated because I assumed that I had bumped them halfway to the ladder and likely ruined my hunt for the night. However, I quickly realized that the crunching was coming from behind me and getting closer. I wheeled around to find a group of 3 does staring at me from 20 yards away.
I drew my bow as slowly and as smoothly as I could and just when I got to full draw, the string hit the brim of my hat and knocked it down onto my face. Unable to see, I had to let down, this time in a panic, and not so smoothly, and knocked the hat off of my head with my free hand. By now, the lead doe was stomping, snorting, and head-bobbing at me. I drew back quickly, settled the pin behind her shoulder and let my first ever arrow aimed at a deer fly. All 3 deer snorted and took off through the brush.
I was told when you shoot a deer with a bow, you were supposed to wait at least 30 minutes before tracking. However, I had no clue if I had even hit the deer, so I decided to walk up to where she was standing to see if I could find my arrow. When I walked up to the shot site, it looked like something out of a horror movie; there was blood...EVERYWHERE. I didn't know it at the time, but she had ducked my string, and instead of hitting the vitals, the arrow went through her neck and severed the jugular. Because she had already been running prior to the shot, the blood apparently sprayed out like a garden hose.
I knew I was supposed to wait, but my excitement got the best of me. Besides, there's no way any living creature could bleed that extensively and still be alive, right? I started slowly following the crimson runway through the woods, but stopped when I heard and saw a deer run off 30 yards ahead of me. DAMNIT, I knew better and I still blew it. That was probably my deer and I just bumped her in to the next county, I know it. How could I be so foolish? I stood there angry, berating myself for the next 15 minutes, trying to figure out what to do next.
I finally decided if that was, in fact, the deer I shot, it likely wouldn't matter how much longer I stood at this spot. I might as well follow the blood trail another 50 yards and verify if that was her or not. I took 2 steps toward a downed log on the ground, and noticed a white belly on the other side. I froze. Adrenaline took over...you know, again. Wait, is THAT her? I looked at the chest cavity. No movement, no breathing. Also...no hole? Hmm...
I took another step and saw a gaping wound in her neck, and then it all made sense. I crept forward, held my breath, and poked her in the eye with an arrow, waiting to be kicked in the shin or stomach. Nothing. She's dead. I got her. I just shot my first deer. By myself. On the ground. With a bow...
I let out what I can only describe as my best Iroquois battle cry. Anyone within earshot was likely startled and confused...
Now what? I have no clue. I ran at a full sprint through the woods back to the house. Just when I rounded the corner of the garage, I saw my dad pulling into the driveway. He saw his son come around the corner...sweaty, panicked. He jumped out of the truck...
"What's wrong?"
"I got one!"
"Got one, what?"
"A deer!"
"You shot at a deer?"
"No, I shot a deer!"
"...and we need to track it?"
"No, I already found it! It's dead! It's a doe"
:: Pause ::
"...What?"
"C'mon Dad! Get changed and let's go! I can take you right to her! I don't know what to do next!"
Haha - I can't even imagine what was going through his head...
I took him to the deer and he started laughing. "You shot it in the neck?"
"I didn't mean to, it just kind of happened that way."
"Alright, well let's tag her and gut her. Grab that leg and roll her over."
I rolled my long sleeve down over my hand and reluctantly grabbed her bloody front leg...
"Are you serious? Don't be a P%$$Y. Grab the damn deer."
He field dressed it for me, thankfully, since I had no clue what I was doing. I remember being more grossed out about the milk that went everywhere when he cut into the udder than the actual guts. It was only an 80-ish pound doe, but to me it felt like I had just killed a wooly mammoth with a spear. We didn't even drag it out; we lashed the legs together, put a big stick through, and carried it out of the woods on our shoulders.
I actually killed 3 or 4 more with that bow, and a couple with a flintlock muzzleloader before I ever finally shot one with a rifle in the my mid 20's.
Somebody say something about razorbacks?
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Killed my first deer, a little 4 point, with one of these mounted on a micro flight 8 shot from a Bear Polar Ltd. That was fall of ‘86.
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