Stories of your first kill

metalslug

metalslug

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The back woods of NWO
I love good hunting stories, let's hear your favourite!

Got my first deer when I was 16, it was me, my uncle and grandfather and we went out early in November at the start of the rut. It just snowed the night before and was still snowing lightly, so any sign would have to be very recent. We all split up and I found cover behind a pine tree looking over a clearing maybe 50 yards across. I remember standing there maybe half an hour when I notice a doe out of the corner of my eye to the left, just poking her head out of the tree line. I freeze up, hoping there's a buck following her because we only had a buck tag that season. So I'm frozen completely still watching this deer cautiously cross the field, and she's gone. I wait, and wait....and then there's a light *snap* where the doe came from, I look over and in another minute, a 6-point buck poking his head out of the trees.

Now my adrenaline's pumping and my hearts going 100 miles an hour, I reached down and with two fingers slowly let the safety off my Remington 700 (they have really snappy safetys, if you've never tried one) and as slowly as he's walking across the field I bring my rifle up. I'm shaking like mad and breathing even harder, then suddenly he turns and bolts back into the bush. I'm like %#@$#@%$#!%@#!!!!! NO! I MESSED IT UP!
...... not quite. After a few tense minutes he carefully looks out onto the edge of the field again, and starts to creep across like there's some sort ambush waiting for him (heh heh). I've got my '06 up and i'm looking through the sights, following him and trying like crazy to control my breathing and excitement. Just when I get it broadside to me, I exhale and pull the trigger.

POW! he goes down, I mean almost right off his feet, and then he gets right back up in a split second and runs right through the bushes so fast I couldn't believe it. So i'm standing there with my rifle still up, with the biggest feeling of accomplishment I've had to that point in my life. It was easy to track; the bullet went right through the main artery to the heart, and there was a almost unbroken trail of blood for about 40 or 50 yards from where I shot him. The funny part was trying to explain where I got all the deer meat from to my vegetarian girlfriend at the time haha; I got the "You killed Bambi's father!" treatment for a month.

Your turn.
 
My first kill... 12 years old, boreal forest near Cold Lake, AB. Still-hunted a snowshoe hare to within about 15 yards and nailed it right through the eye with a ball-bearing launched from my Marksman sling-shot.

It started to do the funky chicken, so I approached and drove another bearing clear through its head from about 16 inches away.

Took it home and the neighbour helped me skin and gut it.

My mother couldn't believe it. I was incredibly proud, but I did feel some remorse after I killed it, along with the adrenaline jitters. Still, I knew it would not be the last.
 
waterwheel said:
Should I care that I've been hunting for 3+ years now and have yet to kill anything?
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No. Hunting is enjoyable in it's own right. Sometimes you may add to the experience by taking game, other times not. Some may think it's all about being able to kill something, but it shouldn't be. Enjoy your time afield, it will be even more rewarding when your efforts pay off.
 
Chuckbuster said:
No. Hunting is enjoyable in it's own right. Sometimes you may add to the experience by taking game, other times not. Some may think it's all about being able to kill something, but it shouldn't be. Enjoy your time afield, it will be even more rewarding when your efforts pay off.
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When I started out I use to go out with the mind set "I have to get something". Made for some miserable hunting trips. I changed my tune. I go out in the bush with a gun. I cook my food and see new things. When you are calm and not in a rush you will see a lot more.

My first kill was a bear hunt on a river boat. Seen the bear at so far away it was a dot in my binos. Killed the motor and floated down. Nailed it brod side at 150yrds give or take. Darted in the bush about 10yrds and expired.
Shot with a 30-06 165g.

What a great feeling.
 
A lot of years ago, but still a vivid memory! I did not come from a family that hunted, so had to persuade a neighbor to take me along.
His second son and I were buddies, and my dad was amenable, so away we went. [Late 1950's]

I had a slightly sporterized M17, 30-06, and was shooting the old CIL 180 grain KKSP.

Here's some irony. Neither my friend nor his dad had ever shot anything, and were also relatively new hunters.

We were hunting some open fir hillsides not far from Falkland, BC, and there was plenty of sign.
I split up from those two a bit, and after wandering around for a couple of hours, I decided to sit a while.

Found a nice big Fir stump and sat down, just watching an area ahead of me. Felt drowsy, almost ready for a nap, when
off to my right I saw a movement...in a couple of minutes, out walks a big, dry doe [legal].

My heart felt like it would jump right out of my chest, I was sure that deer would hear it beating, even at 85 yards!!
I'm trying to steady my rifle to take the shot, and having a real hard time with that! Finally I jerk the trigger, and to my
dismay, shot both her hind legs off at the knees. Second shot in about 5 seconds was truer, and put her out of any misery.

I was upset with myself over that first shot, but absolutely elated that I had scored my first animal. My hunting partners arrived shortly
and were happy to share in the dressing chores.

Shot a number of deer in that area over the next few years, but none stand out in the memory like the first one!

Regards, Dave.
 
My first deer kill occurred in 1977 in the State of Maine. Born and raised near the Ottawa area, my father I ventured down to Maine since we had family there and decided to do some deer hunting. The area was located 15 miles north of Biddeford, a location called "Deer Pond," how ironic. I placed myself at the south end of Deer Pond on a well used deer trail in a saturated swamp.
Shortly after 8:30 am I heard rustling straight in front of me. I noticed ears, then a head, the body; and it was heading right at me. I stood behind a tree and when the little button buck stopped 25 yards from me I let him have it right behind the shoulder. He fell dead and I was stunned, could not believe that I shot a deer. My father heard the shot and within five minutes he was next to me. I believe that he was more happy than me because I was still in "shock mode."
I shot the buck with a Browning BLR chambered for the 308 Winchester. As you can see, I still have the photo. I will never forget that moment where it was the happiest day of my life............It still brings a smile to my face when I look at the photo.


MY VERY FIRST BUCK


MY LAST BUCK, SO FAR (NOVEMBER 2013)
 
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I killed my first deer in front of a hound in what is now Arrowhead Provincial Park (wasn't then) in 1968 with a Model '92 in 44-40.
First day of my first deer hunt. Wasn't a big buck per se, but it was the biggest of the group's that year and the first buck ...
so double win from the "buck pot" ! (Bonus: they weren't able to tease the "rookie", shirt-tail intact - rum was on the camp that night)
 
My first deer kill was in the early 70's and was a small Alberta Mule buck. Being a young man at the time and still living at home with my parents, I was driving Dad's Chevy pickup over to a friends place on the otherside of the coulee. The plan was, to set up to watch an area my friend had seen deer use on a daily bases.

About half ways to my friends at the bottom of the coulee, a buck runs across the road. Skidding to a stop, I grab grandpa's 760 gamemaster 30-06 out of the rear window rack and tear through the bush in fast pursuit of the deer. After a couple hundred yard dash, I see the buck stand facing away from me on the well used cow path at less than 40 yards distance.

Being over excited and short of breath from the run, I aim over its back with the idea to shoot him in the neck. I must have really pulled the shot because I shot under the deer cutting open the belly skin, pretty much from his scrotum right up to the rib cage. The poor animal tried to walk away but its fully intacted intestines were being strung out as it tried to escape. After travelling perhaps 20 yards it just stood there with its legs spread at which time I closed the distance and finished it off with a head shot.

Ive killed many deer since then, but thinking about that buck, taught me the importance of taking my time to produce a humane shot.
 
My first was less than a year ago. Turkey hunting with my brother, him in a tent blind and me on the ground few hundred yards away, just in the tree/fence line and about 2 yards from the edge of the field.
First day, half hour after legal shooting time, I make a call and slowly turn my head in the direction of my brother's decoy and see a Tom in full strut! I freeze! The Tom walks towards the tree line that I'm sitting in, about 100 yds down from me, and I don't dare move so he walks out of my line of sight.
I wait. 5 minutes goes by (aka 1 hour hunting time ;) ). I hear a leaf rustle...is it him? Another minute/eternity goes by and another rustle. I start to worry that my thumping heart will alert every turkey in a mile radius that I am sitting there. I tell myself, "It's just a squirrel behind me, it's just a squirrel". This lets my heart rate settle down to a reasonable 400 bpm. He comes into view from my right side. Holy Christ! I don't dare move my eyeballs because he is only 6 ft away and he is moving slowly and cautiously! I can't swing to the right though as a small sapling is in the way but that is ok; my decoy is just a little further along and all of the videos I watched in preparation for THIS MOMENT showed Toms checking out decoys, jumping on them even, plenty of time for the perfect shot, right? Bastard walks right by my decoy without so much as a glance and into a bit of a gully and out of sight. He is either heading straight away from me or hooking left (I have full visibility to the right and he is no where to be seen). Just off to my left, 20 yds out, I see his head pop up over the grass for a moment and then back down. Do that again and you are going to regret it I tell him in my mind. Sure enough he does and I'm ready. Boom. Tumble. Holy chit! I'm totally hooked on turkey hunting and have been anticipating this coming season ever since.
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My first big game animal was a 200 pound black bear that I stalked on an oak ridge... I crept ahead of him and set up about 20 yards from where I expected him to feed by me... the bear threw a wrench in the plan when he changed routes... I ended up having to draw my homemade self bow with the bear five feet from the riser when I released the arrow... he bailed off the ridge in a rush, and made it 70 yards to a cedar swamp... a minute later I heard the death moan... I was a pretty excited young man... that was almost 40 years ago...
 
October 1970. I was 17. My dad and I rowed across this semi-alpine lake on northern Vancouver Island and split up to walk the meadows there.

I crossed several meadows and was just on the crest of a tiny ridge about to descend into the next one when I saw a doe followed by a buck.

I lifted my 1910 Ross strait pull 303 rifle and shot offhand at about 75 yards, drilling the buck through the neck dropping him. A beautiful 4x5 blacktail.
 
I made my first kill back when I was 12, hunting with my dad and some family friends. I was walking a fenceline cut with my dads 12 gauge mossberg when I wandered into a ruffed grouse standing broadside at the edge of the bush. He was standing still and I was only about fifteen feet away. I brought the gun up, clicked off the safety, aimed and shot. That's when the bird exploded! Seems that nobody had told me to aim high and go for the head on close shots and I had nailed this one straight on. I picked it up and it's insides fell out onto my jeans. The close side breast was destroyed and the far side had a number of pellets in it. I was just proud to be one of the guys. Since then I've shot many birds and that shotgun now lives in my safe, but I'll always remember that hunt.
 
I got my first big game this year, small 8 point NWO whitetail. I was hunting a hydroline and was taking a break in the sun to warm up when I see a deer walk out 100-200 yards downrange. I hit the doe bleat and he stops in his tracks and looks my way. I am completely unprepared and have to wait before I move. When he turns away I slowly go prone but my crosshairs are jumping everywhere so I was not comfortable with taking the shot seeing as I was by myself and didn't want some wounded deer running through the bush. I hit the bleat again hoping that he will come closer and give me time to get calm. Instead he runs off into the bush. I immediately give a couple grunts and sit and wait on the ridge. What seems like an eternity (but was likely only 5 minutes) later I hear a crunch and crack down the ridge to my left. Seeing movement through the trees, I bring up my Enfield and take off the safety. Through the scope I see fur behind the trees 30 yards away, I wait for him to come into a small clearing to the side of the hydro line, aiming just behind the right shoulder I squeeze off the 180 grain Winchester PowerPoint. The deer takes one massive leap and in that time I cycle another round but I didn't need it, with a few kicks he expires in the grass. Kinda glad I was out there myself as I know I had one goofy smile on my face that day.
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I was 22. It was late. I wanted to get home but I didn't quite know where I was. My two friends were quiet and semi useless. I found it peaceful, I could concentrate on the task at hand. I saw the deer running, out of the treeline and to my right. I panicked, I wasn't ready. A buck and two yearlings ran past us, maybe 80 yards out. They were within range, I knew that. Life seemed to be going in slow motion, maybe it was me. Momma deer ran out thirty yards behind the others. I felt the adrenaline rush through my veins, I was sure I was going to miss, I had no control of the situation. It was going to be my first time. I felt the physical force against my shoulders, painful, yet comforting. The deed was done, I couldn't take it back now. To my despair the deer was still alive, and I had nothing left. My legs were shaky, I could barely, my friend Paul was whit as a ghost. He was much younger, barely eighteen, he wasn't ready for the violence of it, I could see he was going to be sick. My friend Myron was not much better off. The deer wheezed, and struggled. We had no choice but to go in close but all we had was a hammer and an exact knife. Myron took the knife and the hammer, he walked to the deer. It was scared, it's big black eyes looking at us. Maybe it was stunned, I don't know, I didn't see blood but there was fur all over. I picked up a few pieces and looked at the deer, kicking and clawing. We couldn't get one enough to finish it
Myron stepped in for the kill, the deer got up and ran into the field, the three of us stared after it wondering what had happened. How could it get up, it should be dead? We examined the site, there was no way the deer should have lived, my Ford Mustang was a write off had I accident coverage. instead I would have to fix it. I massaged my shoulders where the seat belt tightened against it, I was bruised pretty good. We had to use the hammer to beat out the fender so it wouldn't rub against the wheel, then we drove around looming for a deer in distress but didn't see any. went to file an accident report.
 
bandit86 said:
I was 22. It was late. I wanted to get home but I didn't quite know where I was. My two friends were quiet and semi useless. I found it peaceful, I could concentrate on the task at hand. I saw the deer running, out of the treeline and to my right. I panicked, I wasn't ready. A buck and two yearlings ran past us, maybe 80 yards out. They were within range, I knew that. Life seemed to be going in slow motion, maybe it was me. Momma deer ran out thirty yards behind the others. I felt the adrenaline rush through my veins, I was sure I was going to miss, I had no control of the situation. It was going to be my first time. I felt the physical force against my shoulders, painful, yet comforting. The deed was done, I couldn't take it back now. To my despair the deer was still alive, and I had nothing left. My legs were shaky, I could barely, my friend Paul was whit as a ghost. He was much younger, barely eighteen, he wasn't ready for the violence of it, I could see he was going to be sick. My friend Myron was not much better off. The deer wheezed, and struggled. We had no choice but to go in close but all we had was a hammer and an exact knife. Myron took the knife and the hammer, he walked to the deer. It was scared, it's big black eyes looking at us. Maybe it was stunned, I don't know, I didn't see blood but there was fur all over. I picked up a few pieces and looked at the deer, kicking and clawing. We couldn't get one enough to finish it
Myron stepped in for the kill, the deer got up and ran into the field, the three of us stared after it wondering what had happened. How could it get up, it should be dead? We examined the site, there was no way the deer should have lived, my Ford Mustang was a write off had I accident coverage. instead I would have to fix it. I massaged my shoulders where the seat belt tightened against it, I was bruised pretty good. We had to use the hammer to beat out the fender so it wouldn't rub against the wheel, then we drove around looming for a deer in distress but didn't see any. went to file an accident report.
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Based on your sig line you should have known in advance the deer was going to be there and avoided the accident....


Now... I was 14 and my father had quit hunting for about 8 years.... I never lost interest and finally, after much persuasion, I convinved him to take me out for upland game... He had his old CIL double and I carried the cooey 84 that we kept around the cottage to dispatch critters as it was the only other shotgun we had.... He showed me the basics but after about 8 grouse flushes and misses I went home empty handed....

I spent the better part of every day that week after school shooting at skeet out at my friend's dairy farm I worked at.... The following weekend dad and I took a walk along a nice ridge where the cedars met the hardwoods ... as we rounded the bend I saw a ruffie run up the ridge towards dad and yelled out that one was headed his way..... as dad walked the top of the ridge, the grouse exploded from some low cedars and flew across the gully quartering away from me.... I brought the bead up and fired at the blur and saw the bird drop, one wing flapping... I will never forget that first one... I have since shot many big game animals with many nice rifles and shotguns but that grouse that I took with the cooey 84 using canadian tire supreme shells still brings a smile to my face....
 
4 point buck shot at 25M with a crossbow. Up in a open treestand, mid-December 2007, maybe -10C and windy. Buck came in behind me, stood 7M directly behind me for a few minutes, started walking out on the field, spooked & turned away running then abruptly stopped, came back from the side, stopped and looked up directly at me for a minute (seemed much longer), put his head down and walked back onto the field where I shot him. Maybe a 70M run before he crashed. Thought I was having a heart attack, couldnt move my arms to get the bow up and the first time I got the bow up and scope to my eye I realized I wasn't pointing it at him. That's why it was 25M shot and not 15M.
 
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