I have enjoyed hunting since I was six years old, but the second deer I killed is one that I will always remember. The previous year I missed one of the biggest bucks I had ever seen. From that moment on, I planned to hunt every day that I possibly could to try and take one more shot at the deer I had missed the previous year. Finally, hunting season arrived and the day came when the bucks started to come out. Patiently, I waited all summer and now it was the time to strike.
The goal is to have enough people to surround a block of woods and hopefully the dogs run the deer right on top of one of our standers. The love I have for dog hunting I can truly say I got from my dad. After years of hunting my dad eventually talked himself into getting his own pack of dogs. I won’t never forget my first deer I killed. My dad told me to stay where he was parked at and he was going to turn the dogs out across the clear cut we was at.
It is 5:30am on opening morning of deer hunting season and my alarm explodes into a racket that would wake an army. I roll out of bed and rub the sleep from my eyes. I only slept six hours last night because my family and I were preparing for the hunt, getting the guns ready, laying out a clothes-man, everything. As I throw some pants on, the smell of fresh pancakes wakes me up. It is at this time I realize the season is upon us.
It was 4:30 in the morning I had just gotten up. It was the second and the last day we had to hunt. The day before my brother (Brandon) had shot his deer and I had not gotten one yet. We were all at the table eating our breakfast That's when my dad looked at me. “You going to get one today?” I looked at him and said with confidence, “Yes.” By now it was 6 a.m and we were all getting our clothing on they were very frigid because we had left them outside overnight.
My father was a great wise hunter and he tried his best to teach me the proper techniques and safety before letting me go freely into the wilderness. At this point in time, I had not yet went on an official hunting trip, but was deeply informed by all the hunting stories and all the excitement that was involved. I was more than ready for the adventure I was going to have on the approaching weekend. As I mentioned, my father had always informed me about the adrenaline rushes that was involved while hunting wildlife and I could honestly say that I was already experiencing the rush and the hunt had not even began yet. It was the night before and I was very anxious about the squirrel hunt the next morning.
Then again, it needed to start raining again making it difficult to find blood in behalf of the rain washing the blood away! Nevertheless, I saw blood right away and began to follow the trail…. Soon after searching for the deer, “I found him, he’s right here!” my dad claimed happily. My buck ended up right on the four-wheeler trail and didn’t even run 40 yards away. I started to walk over to the deer and evaluated that he was a nice seven-pointer.
November 2011, the first year I got to go hunting with my dad. I got excited for this year because I became old enough to shoot my first deer with my dad in the hunting stand. I thrived to get my first buck all through November (SV). The night before opening day my dad and I usually go out to chat with my uncles and tell hunting stories at our shack. My uncles always tell old stories of when they got their first buck, and I became nervous knowing I might have a chance at one tomorrow.
But my leg gave out and I fell to the ground. As I was lying there, I devised a new plan. I layed their acting dead and waited for the deer to pick me up. He threw me over his shoulder, and I slowly pulled out my hunting knife. A quick slice and the psychotic, evil deer was laying on the ground out cold.
Killing a Ten Point Buck The deer season last fall was my most successful season ever. I have been deer hunting since I was fourteen. Each year I have shot at least one deer, but none were that special because they were all does. This year because I was going to college and wrestling I didn't think I would have a chance to get the big buck. The firearm deer season started on Friday, November 15 1996.
This pride comes from knowing how hard I have to work. Deer hunting includes much more than the split second of firing a gun in the woods. The hardest part of hunting may be waiting what seems to be an eternity until the start of the season. While I wait, I have many things to do in preparation for the hunt. The first thing that needs done is scouting for stomped down popular deer trails that are little more than narrow paths of mud and feces.