My First Deer Hunt, by R.R.

The Deer Hunt
The Deer Hunt

Allow me to share my first hunting experience. About 4-5 years ago after collecting a bunch of gear from birthdays and Christmases past, and after paper plate target shooting with a brand new harrington and Richardson .20 ga single shotty shooter (I was not raised by a rich family.) I was ready to hunt down and kill every last buck that roamed the woods behind my house.

On the dawn of the first day of deer season my 14 year old self had to be damn sure that I had any semi useful bladed tool which included my edc at the time, a Buck Vantage (pic related), a Buck fixed blade knife, and a set of deer gutting knives, plus some ponchos and hand warmers. Since I couldn’t go alone and my stepfather couldn’t be bothered, I went with my mother and hiked into the woods reeking of doe piss.

Along the way to the hunting spot, we spotted a couple of deer full sprinting off behind some hills before I could get a shot off. After some “tracking”, or running around the woods with a shot-gun, I gave up the chase to see if maybe I could lure them in with a buck call. After blowing into the thing for about 20 minutes with long pauses in between different calls I heard what I thought was a grunt, it was very faint (kinda like a low quick rumble) but nonetheless there. For a little while it would reply to my calls and also sounded to get slightly closer each time.

Before I continue, I should let you know that the woods are bordered by a couple of county routes and a few local businesses but dammit there were deer in them woods. So just when I would swear that there would be a buck strolling into sight that “grunt” revved up and accelerated off and it hit me that the “buck” that I have been patiently waiting to claim as mine and mount was actually a motorcycle in the distance (there are a few garages in the area so its possible they were testing a Harley at the time.)

After the hours spent blowing into a call and a barrel pointed at the damn squirrel 10 ft. away, I returned with out a deer tagged and ready to gut. Now that I think of it, I have no idea how my mother and I could have managed to drag a deer a half mile through hills and mud back to the house.

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