A Hunter�s 1st Deer
A boy�s, or grown-up�s 1st deer is a very special thing in their life. This particular event in your life shows you are somewhat an expert in patience, finding a place to hunt, marksmanship, tracking, and the not-so-fun job of dragging the deer out, and probably just about as much lucky as any of these things listed, though. I don�t know about you, but that says a lot to me, and the day I got my first deer will be the most important and proudest day of my life, ever�period. Let me tell you about that day.
Dad walked me over to my stand, taking my rifle as I climbed the ladder to my precarious perch where I would hopefully see a few deer, and certainly have the time of my life. As I got to the top he handed me my rifle and his. He soon materialized in the seat off of my right elbow. 15 minutes later, he said it was time to load up, because in another �half of an hour it would be light enough to shoot. I then put the rifle on my lap, action-side up, and fished out 4 metallic cartridges for my new .30-06 rifle, clicking them in the magazine, then closing the action, chambering the top round. I then held the light for my dad as he did the same with his rifle.
It was now light enough to shoot, so I began to pay very close attention to every sound made in the woods (it�s surprising how many things sound like a deer coming towards you on the 1st day of buck season). I became even more alerted when a running noise started to our right. With my rifle half down, I heaved a sigh of relief, as an over-sized fox squirrel appeared out of a thicket where we wouldn�t have been able to get a shot. After an uneventful hour my mind began to drift. I soon began looking over our rifles. Dad had his faithful Remington Model 700 BDL, the caliber being the good ol� .30-06. The old, weathered stock had very few marks in it, despite heavy use. Mine was the same model, except it had a synthetic stock and stainless steel metal. It didn�t have a nick in it, as it was the first time I had used it, except for hunting groundhogs a few days, and 2 days of hard hunting in northern PA for black bears that just wouldn�t cooperate with me. I was soon zapped back into reality when I saw a doe sky-lined, about 100 yards away. Soon, the single doe materialized into 6 and they came down right in front of us and now were only 30 yards away. Dad slowly raised his rifle, checking all the deer for antlers that were invisible to our naked eyes. I soon saw a deer coming towards the doe. I also noticed a glint of antlers on his head as he made his way across the small logging road. I slowly raised my rifle and removed the safety in one silent movement. No longer was the scope up to my eye did I find the deer�s shoulder. The movement of the scope coming towards me eye was the only indication of the rifle going off, as I never even heard it. The buck crashed off and fell within 10 yards of where I shot him. The does soon ran away allowing Dad and I to climb down and get my buck. We approached him carefully from behind, although we soon found he was as dead as we hoped he was. No longer did we lift his head up to see the antlers, did Charlie (a friend of ours) come out of the brush. He said the buck had gone right under him and he passed it up for a bigger buck (which he eventually got on the 3rd day of the season). I thanked him and would like to thank him here again. They soon began gutting the deer and I filled my tag out. As I looked at the fallen buck, I thought this was a much better fate than getting hit by a car or starving to death. Maybe this will help explain to some people that hunting isn�t a blood sport and isn�t about killing. Dad then drug the deer out and we took some pictures, said good-bye to Charlie and went home to take some more and show Mom. We then took the deer to get processed. Later in the day, I thought about the fun I would miss from shooting the deer on the 1st day of the season. I then looked out the window to see the snow going sideways from the strong, howling wind. Well, maybe not�
By: Justin Lancaster
