Last year I took my then, 6 year old son out deer hunting with me.
It was only it was bitterly cold afternoon so we sat in a blind to keep out of the wind but it was still freezing.
We saw a few does but I chose to pass them up so that I could impress my son if dad harvested a buck. The next day I asked him if he wanted to join me again, but perhaps due to the fridgid weather of the day before and the fact that I didn't shoot one of those deer we did see, he decided that he would pass.
I went on my way and that evening a decent 4 pointer showed up and I placed a polite 7mm-08 through his heart and my season was finished.
At first I thought boy, did Wyatt miss out. But as I drove back to town I began to think maybe it was me who missed out. When I got to the house and described the hunt to my son he was not particularily interested.
Maybe it's just his age I thought, but what if the way I was going about this hunting business was turning him off.
This year I decided that it was not going to be about the animal but about the experience.
Last Saturday I was geared to go, so at about 5:45 I thought it was time to make breakfast and get him up, He did and ate with me but I could see he just wasn't into getting up that early, So I told him let's just go back to bed I'll crawl in with you. He said "No dad you want me to go hunting with you"
"Well" I said "There's lot's of time for that maybe we will go tonight instead"
That evening the weather was rather pleasant around -5.
we went to a familiar area and sat in amongst some scrubby poplar overlooking a pasture to the south and cornfield to the north.
It was early when we saw a dandy buck make a quick break out of one bush and directly into the next. Too quick for a clean shot through the "Hazel" as some old timers call it.
We stayed until dark and saw nothing else.
Having a couple of days off this week I was stoked about seeing that buck and had my mind on him during my short work week
Thursday morning I saw him about 600 yards from where I was sitting, he had his nose to the ground feverishly following the young doe ahead of him, off into the bush he went.
That evening I moved closer to where I had seen him hoping to get a crack at this big guy. Then I thought, should I just forget about him and wait until |Friday when I can take my son out of school early and go hunting with him.
So I decided to sleep in this morning and waited until I picked him up.
We headed out to an area I had seen several does the night before.
As we nestled into some brush I told my son I was glad he came and I had a good feeling about tonight.
While my son sat on my outstretched legs I could feel his body slump down and it wasn't long before he was snoring like and old cat in the sun.
Fifteen minutes later a yearling stepped out of the bush and was followed by a big doe some 40 yards away. I patted him on the shoulder and said "Wyatt wake up there's a deer don't move"
But he was out cold, so again I repeated it, this time he opened his eyes and saw the big doe staring in our direction.
"Don't move" I whispered.
After about a minute she seemed content that nothing was near and she walked to a distance of about 70 yards I reached for my rifle leaning on a tree near my feet. Wyatt sat up on his knees for a better look at her. The doe wheel around and locked eyes with our location. I settled the cross hairs on her chest and started to squeeze the trigger but never made the 4-1/2 pound pull before she took of to the west.
I swung the rifle with her as she picked up speed and BOOM the .270 barked when it's muzzle was just slightly ahead of her. Both deer tore into the thicket from where they came.
a couple of seconds later a loud snap and crash could be heard from inside the bush. "Did you get her?" my son asked excitedly.
"I think I heard her go down" I said
we both walked over to where they went in, "Dad I see blood" my son yelled.
It was evident that the ballistic tip had found the lungs by the bright red overspray that covered what snow was left on the ground after the weeks warm temperatures.
Wyatt walked quickly to the next red patch ahead of us. Hair and clotting littered the ground. "She won't be far" I said.
I looked ahead and there lay the doe under an old gnarly oak. "Wow you got her dad" my son cried out. "WE GOT HER" I said. I was exstatic I just shot what was probably my 30 or 40th deer but I felt like my first!
As I dressed the doe out with my own handmade knife my son asked all kinds of questions about the organs and even held the legs. It was after I loaded her in the truck and we stood their admiring the old girl that I realized that choosing to abandon hunting for an elusive buck and switching to a plentiful doe was just what I needed to make up for my overzelousness of the previous year. That was confimed when we drove home and my son said "I can't wait till next year dad"
Neither can I son.
It was only it was bitterly cold afternoon so we sat in a blind to keep out of the wind but it was still freezing.
We saw a few does but I chose to pass them up so that I could impress my son if dad harvested a buck. The next day I asked him if he wanted to join me again, but perhaps due to the fridgid weather of the day before and the fact that I didn't shoot one of those deer we did see, he decided that he would pass.
I went on my way and that evening a decent 4 pointer showed up and I placed a polite 7mm-08 through his heart and my season was finished.
At first I thought boy, did Wyatt miss out. But as I drove back to town I began to think maybe it was me who missed out. When I got to the house and described the hunt to my son he was not particularily interested.
Maybe it's just his age I thought, but what if the way I was going about this hunting business was turning him off.
This year I decided that it was not going to be about the animal but about the experience.
Last Saturday I was geared to go, so at about 5:45 I thought it was time to make breakfast and get him up, He did and ate with me but I could see he just wasn't into getting up that early, So I told him let's just go back to bed I'll crawl in with you. He said "No dad you want me to go hunting with you"
"Well" I said "There's lot's of time for that maybe we will go tonight instead"
That evening the weather was rather pleasant around -5.
we went to a familiar area and sat in amongst some scrubby poplar overlooking a pasture to the south and cornfield to the north.
It was early when we saw a dandy buck make a quick break out of one bush and directly into the next. Too quick for a clean shot through the "Hazel" as some old timers call it.
We stayed until dark and saw nothing else.
Having a couple of days off this week I was stoked about seeing that buck and had my mind on him during my short work week
Thursday morning I saw him about 600 yards from where I was sitting, he had his nose to the ground feverishly following the young doe ahead of him, off into the bush he went.
That evening I moved closer to where I had seen him hoping to get a crack at this big guy. Then I thought, should I just forget about him and wait until |Friday when I can take my son out of school early and go hunting with him.
So I decided to sleep in this morning and waited until I picked him up.
We headed out to an area I had seen several does the night before.
As we nestled into some brush I told my son I was glad he came and I had a good feeling about tonight.
While my son sat on my outstretched legs I could feel his body slump down and it wasn't long before he was snoring like and old cat in the sun.
Fifteen minutes later a yearling stepped out of the bush and was followed by a big doe some 40 yards away. I patted him on the shoulder and said "Wyatt wake up there's a deer don't move"
But he was out cold, so again I repeated it, this time he opened his eyes and saw the big doe staring in our direction.
"Don't move" I whispered.
After about a minute she seemed content that nothing was near and she walked to a distance of about 70 yards I reached for my rifle leaning on a tree near my feet. Wyatt sat up on his knees for a better look at her. The doe wheel around and locked eyes with our location. I settled the cross hairs on her chest and started to squeeze the trigger but never made the 4-1/2 pound pull before she took of to the west.
I swung the rifle with her as she picked up speed and BOOM the .270 barked when it's muzzle was just slightly ahead of her. Both deer tore into the thicket from where they came.
a couple of seconds later a loud snap and crash could be heard from inside the bush. "Did you get her?" my son asked excitedly.
"I think I heard her go down" I said
we both walked over to where they went in, "Dad I see blood" my son yelled.
It was evident that the ballistic tip had found the lungs by the bright red overspray that covered what snow was left on the ground after the weeks warm temperatures.
Wyatt walked quickly to the next red patch ahead of us. Hair and clotting littered the ground. "She won't be far" I said.
I looked ahead and there lay the doe under an old gnarly oak. "Wow you got her dad" my son cried out. "WE GOT HER" I said. I was exstatic I just shot what was probably my 30 or 40th deer but I felt like my first!
As I dressed the doe out with my own handmade knife my son asked all kinds of questions about the organs and even held the legs. It was after I loaded her in the truck and we stood their admiring the old girl that I realized that choosing to abandon hunting for an elusive buck and switching to a plentiful doe was just what I needed to make up for my overzelousness of the previous year. That was confimed when we drove home and my son said "I can't wait till next year dad"
Neither can I son.
