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Your first.

BTaylor said:
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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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... But did you shave with it?
 
St.CroixArcher said:
September 1989. My dad had gotten me a youth Browning compound for my 12th birthday in May and told me if I could pull 40 pounds and hit a dessert sized paper plate 3 times in a row at 20 yard by the opener I could go bow hunting with him. I shot everyday that I could that summer and made his goal by the opener.
Went out the first evening and he put me in his favorite stand made from some 2 x 4’s and said he was going to be up the hill. A half an hour into my first sit a doe and fawn came right down the trail at 10 yards. I drew back and let it fly. My Dad had positioned himself where he could see me and watched the whole thing through his binoculars. I have killed quite a few deer since then but it’s still my favorite. View attachment 43659
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Love the picture!
 
BTaylor said:
87caa5b7be0600d4711e0eafddcb200a.jpg

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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Click to expand...
I used those too in the early years. Still carry a scar through the end of the middle finger of my right hand that I did to myself when the broadhead slipped while I was inserting replacement blades. I can attest that those bad boys were sharp. Sliced through the end of my finger and fingernail right to the bone, some 40+ year ago.

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Weldabeast said:
My first deer was last season (19-20). That was season 5 of my hunting "career". I showed up late to the game. Every hunt prior to that had been public land because that is all I have access too. I was given permission to hunt my buddies neighbors property.... Snuck down to the creek, climbed up, hung in the saddle for 45 minutes, killed a small doe with my bow.....could have easily taken a second but I was too jacked up. I apparently have had a falling out with the buddy so back to public

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It’s never too late and there is no better time than now as you can get a lifetimes worth of experience in short order through all the resources at your fingertips. Hasn’t always been that way.
 
boyne bowhunter said:
I used those too in the early years. Still carry a scar through the end of the middle finger of my right hand that I did to myself when the broadhead slipped while I was inserting replacement blades. I can attest that those bad boys were sharp. Sliced through the end of my finger and fingernail right to the bone, some 40+ year ago.

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Yeah, I had to duck tape a few fingers back in those days rather than go to the Dr. The good ole days of rotary dial phones and using a sun dial for a chronograph.
 
My first was during Maryland's early muzzleloader season 2011. Probably 10:30-11 am, me and the old man sat down on a log next a river for drink and a little break. He nudged me on the shoulder and whispered "deer". I looked over and a half rack 2 pt was walking along the river bank. I got the gun up and dropped at about 25 yards. After I shot we realized an 8 point was right behind him. My old man stood up and got a shot, that deer made it to the other side of the river and dropped. I got my first ever and my old man got his biggest at the time.
 
I started hunting late (approaching 50 now), skipped firearms and went to bowhunting after my grandfather passed away and left a Parker compound bow in his basement. I regret never have hunted with him and that became my motivation to start - so my kids would have the opportunity. I got access to some great private land and started climbing vine covered, heavily branched, leaning, nasty trees in full foliage because I did not know any better. That season deer always approached from the wrong side of me. On my fourth day out hunting (ever) a doe started feeding up toward my nasty tree. I had time to swing around and let her get close. At 14 yds the arrow flew and the doe went down. No running, no need to track...dead. Shot was a few inches high but effective. Waited half an hour, got my truck, dragged her 700 ft., field dressed and went to register. I remember saying out loud when prepping to do my first field dress alone and in the dark "I wish Grandpa was here for this". About 6 months later, I now feel like the whole scenario was a gift from him.
 
DroptineKrazy said:
Did a quick search and saw a lot of first saddle kills but what about your first ever whitetail? If this has been a recent thread then I didn't see it so I apologize. Besides, there are a lot of new members on here and I love hearing "My first" stories. I can start.
I killed my first and biggest deer ever when I was just sixteen years old and that was 43 years ago. Wow where has the time gone? I shot the deer with a 12 Gauge JC Higgins pump shot gun that hangs with the deer on my wall today. I killed him at about 75 yards with 2 pellets of 00 Buck. One in the neck and one in the lungs. The deer was shot about 3/4 of a mile from the house I grew up in that still stands today. I killed him on a power line right of way on the 12th of November in 1977. He was in full rut at the time and hardly had a butt on him as he had been running does hard but he still dressed out at 190 lbs. He has a 10 point rack that has 13 inch g2s and scored in the Maine Antler & skull Club using the Boone and Crockett system at 146 3/8". I still can't believe how fortunate I am to have taken him as my first. I know,I know, When am I gonna shoot a bigger one right? After all it has been 43 years. Problem is I like shooting deer too much and have a hard time holding out for Mr. Big. My dearly departed Dad told me when I shot him that I would probably never shoot one bigger one than him but some day I sure would like to prove him wrong. Who's next?
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My first was on my Aunt’s property back in 1995. She had a patch of pecan trees amidst some smaller oaks out back. Her house was the last house on a street that backed up to 180 acres of undeveloped woods. The yards on the road back then were all 1.5-3 acre yards. My dad didn’t have much money so I learned to shoot with a fiberglass long bow that only shot 35 lbs. I must have spent every day for 3 straight summers practicing so my dad or even my uncle would be willing to take me with. Anyway it was late afternoon and we were set up in a little home made wooden ladder stand in the largest pecan tree. We might have been 12’ high. A small buck maybe 85-90 lbs came out grazing around 5:30 or so (like an hour before dark). Man this story haunts me so I remember it like it was yesterday…. I got so excited that I “hurried my shot”. I was “aiming” lower 1/3 right behind the hinge of the shoulder like my dad taught me. The arrow definitely flew about 11” to the left of where I “aimed”. It was pure dumb luck the deer was broad side slightly quartered away. The arrow struck the deer in the neck, only traveled in about half the arrow length, caught the throat and veins(arteries? Whatever) It took off like a wild banshee blood coming out pretty good, fleeing my aunts property and onto the private 180 behind the house. I looked at my dad and said dang I think it was a bad shot. He laughed took my bow and said we’d give the deer an hour or two to lay down then come back out with the beagle to find it quicker. I was so excited climbing down that I missed a step, slipped and fell about 9’ down and ended up flat on my back the wind knocked out of me and ribs and back bruising from the roots of that pecan tree. (I’m pretty sure that was my first concussion) my dad got down and quickly asked if I was ok. Crying and grasping for air, I said yea I think so but I can’t breath. He looked me over then asked if it hurt? Confused I said yes sir it did. He said good maybe next time you’ll pay attention to where you put your feet and not fall. :sweatsmile: He followed that up with if you’re gonna be dumb, you better be tough. Those words have lived with me ever since.
Turned out that deer only ran about 200 yards before it got tangled up in some pretty bad vines. It bled out and the ants had already started”inspecting it” less than 2 hours later. The dog led us straight to it. We washed it good, back at my aunts house and dressed it out on her porch.
That day I discovered 3 things…1- my love for bow hunting, 2- the importance of a good cold trail hound, and 3- falling from height sucks, it hurts and I never want to do it again.:sweatsmile:
 
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"She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes. And points on her own, sittin' way up high. Way up firm and high." - Bob Seger, Night Moves

I'm another deer hunter whose first buck was a really nice one. I was hunting a small parcel of wooded private land adjacent to a feeding area. It's one of those little parcels where, sometimes the deer are there, most times not. It was a cool Mid-November morning in 1995 (peak of the rut in Connecticut), and the first hour of daylight had me thinking that we just weren't going to see any deer on the property that morning. I was hunting with my young bride ... she was about 100 yards further into the woods behind me covering another common trail the deer use through those woods.

After sitting for a while after daybreak I was almost ready to call it quits, when along comes this doe out of nowhere, tearing out of the field I was watching from 25 yards inside the woods, as I sat somewhat concealed on a fallen tree. She comes running into the woods bounding up and down over some other downed trees, passing right by me at about 10 yards. Trailing behind her was a nice mature 8-point buck, coming through like he was being pulled on a string by that doe. I had a split-second chance to shoot - he was all business in pursuit of that doe - up and down between a trot and a gallop coming through the woods and quartering toward me as he tried to pass at 10 yards as well...

Well hitting deer on the run is not exactly easy ... and I'm usually not one to even try to take a shot at running deer, but he was close, quartering toward me, and closing the distance fast. I squeezed off my .308 Winchester aiming at his chest but he must've dropped just as the shot went off because it connected with the spine and dropped him right there.

The excitement wasn't over yet though, as I jumped off my perch to go tag my first-ever deer harvest, I heard a gunshot in the woods behind me. My young wife connected with that doe the buck had been trailing. Inside of 60 seconds, we had both taken our first deer! A truly special day for both of us.

On hunts since then, there have been other days when we both harvested deer, but somehow none have been as special as the first!
 
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I was 6 or so. Maybe 8 at the oldest. Shot a doe while hunting with my uncle. Only time we ever hunted together. Dad and him basically swapped young'uns that morning. I hunted with unc and cuz hunted with dad.

We were sitting in a box blind on the edge of a food plot planted in the middle of a couple hundred acres of row pines. 3 deer walked out that I know in hindsight consisted of a doe with last year's and this year's fawn.

My uncle and I both had Marlin 336s. Mine was actually a borrowed gun a good-hearted guy let me (or really my dad) borrow so I could have a gun to hunt with. I had never shot through a scope though and somehow that deer let me shoot and miss 3 times. I remember vividly the 2 older deer just flinching and staring, while the fawn bolted at each shot and VERY slowly and hesitantly would creep back into the plot like, "OMG, you ninnies are going to just stand here? Fine. But I'm telling you..."

Finally I was actually out of bullets and very upset and embarrassed. My uncle was trying to quietly jack a cartridge out of his gun to give me. I told him I could just shoot his gun. He shrugged, probably wondering how I could hit a deer with irons that I couldn't with a scope.

I center-punched that doe through both shoulders with the 4th shot. That fawn led the way off of the plot as soon as she dropped and I remember thinking that fawn would most definitely die of old age.

Thus began my relationship with small and stupid deer.
 
Fall of 1996, I was 12. Central North Carolina, on my family farm. My dad had (and still has) a 1988 ish ford ranger, that he built a "tripod stand" in the bed of. I say tripod with quotations, because it was welded square tubing with a bass boat chair and a forked shooting rest all built together. Dad was crafty back then. I sat in that boat chair over looking a corn field and shot a big 8 right before sunset. I recall it with perfect clarity. The 7 mm recoil, the deer disappearing, and me thinking I missed a big buck. The deer never took a second step dropped right where he stood in the corn. That was the only deer I ever shot out of the stand he made. I believe it took me another 6 years to kill a buck. Funny how hunting doesn't equate to killing. Dad still has that mount at his place, I want it, but don't at the same time. I'm pretty sure it was the happiest I ever saw him. I hope to do the same with my daughters this year.
 
I don’t remember the year exactly, around 2002 I’d guess. Every year my dad would take us up north on the Michigan youth deer season weekend to hunt small game, and that year was the first I was old enough to deer hunt (age 14). We stayed at a person he knows property and hunter it that weekend. When we arrived we set out into the woods and built a blind to hunt from.

I cant remember if it was the opener or day after, but I was in the blind and a small deer approached about 20 yards away. I was shooting a hand me down lever action, Sears and Roebuck 30-30 with a fixed 4x scope. I took aim and shot, but in the moment I missed. The deer bounded a few yards, and in my excitement I stood up. The deer stopped and looked at me, I chambered another shell and shot again, dropping it right there. I was so excited, I didn’t even go over to the deer, just ran straight back to camp.

I told my dad I’d shot a doe, and it was dead right by the blind. He was really excited, and we went back to get my deer. As he walked up to it, he said “this isn’t a doe, it’s a buck!” and his pride in that moment was something I’ll never forget. It was the smallest buck ever, with little pencil spikes. One was damaged and laid flat against its skull.

I still have that gun, and the little diy mounted plaque is on my old bedroom wall at my parents place. And the memory of my dad that day will be with me forever.
 
I was shooting a 10.00 compound bow my mom bought me at a garage sale straight up in the air. My new neighbor walked over and asked what I was doing.

“I’m shooting my bow, what does it look like?!”

Him keeping his cool and patience was pretty funny… “I see. Well I bow hunt, and I have some targets in my back yard. You’re welcome to shoot it at those anytime.” And then he just walked away.

I ran after him, and asked to tell me more about those targets, and how one learns to bow hunt.

a few years of getting set up with the right stuff and shooting almost every day, we developed a lifelong friendship. And in something like 1998-99 I killed my first deer.

she came out on my weak side, at about 20 yards. It was a tough shot. Liver and stomach shot. We gave her two hours, and found her about 50 yards from where I shot.

time flies…

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Missed a few before I was able to get this guy. My dad was with me next tree over. He spotted it and the deer stood broadside and down he went. Never will I forget that image of him standing there. It was a morning I am so happy I got to spend with my father. Remington 760 30-06. Probably a 40 yard shot from what I remember. I still hunt that same spot to this day. Its changed with clear-cuts but its gotten better actually because of them1.jpg
 
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