This past fall (2006), I had both my brother ask me if I would take his son hunting with me. My brother hunts, and usually takes him, but this past fall he wasn't able to. My brother is in the military (nearing retirement), and was deployed over to Africa for the better part of the year. He wasn't able to take Alex (his son) hunting with him, so he asked if I would. No problem!
Alex came in for our general rifle season, but since only his dad had the combination to the safe, it was up to me to outfit him with whatever he needed. When packing stuff for the weekend trip, whatever I was taking, I had to pack an extra for Alex. Gun, ammo, binoculars, camo, socks, insulated underwear, boots....................... The back of my truck was LOADED! We get down to the land, and after getting the truck unloaded, went to shoot the guns. After making sure that the scope was set for Alex's eyes, and that he was able to actually hit something with it, I gave him a couple extra boxes of cartridges and told him to have fun, while I went off and did other things.
The next morning (opening morning), of course, it was raining. Not wanting Alex to get wet, I put him in a little 4x8 shooting shack that we have built, while I went off to hunt another area. Before I left him, I told him where the deer would probably come from, so on and so forth, and told him about what time I would be back to get him. Before leaving though, I told him, "Alex, whatever you do, STAY IN THE SHACK! If you shoot one, just stay here. I'll hear you shoot and I'll come over." This was only the second time Alex had been deer hunting (he had squirrel hunted quite a bit in the past though), so he didn't know how to track one, and I didn't want him to destroy any sign that was there, especially with it raining. Alex was 17, but still green when it came to deer hunting.
I went over to my spot, put on the rain gear, and flipped the hood up. It was still raining, but it was a drizzle, just enough to be aggrivating. Several years ago, I started hunting mainly from the ground, so this area was no different. During our early muzzleloading season, I had seen a really nice buck (beams out past his ears, and tall tines), but hadn't been able to get a shot. I was hoping that this buck would show back up that morning. The previous fall I had gotten a .444 Marlin rifle, so this was what I had (a little overkill for deer, but I still wanted to take it), while Alex had one of my .270 Win rifles. Just a little after daylight, I looked to my left and saw a buck coming up to the hill straight toward me FAST! With the leaves being wet, and the wind blowing, I hadn't seen the deer until he was about 20-25 yards away. I could see multiple points, and the rack was tall, so I assumed that it was the deer I was after. When his head went behind a tree, about 20 feet in front of me, I shouldered the rifle. When his side cleared the tree and the crosshairs of the scope hit his shoulder, I touched the trigger. At the shot, the deer jumped in the air, almost turning a flip, and started running down the bench just below me. He made it about 30 yards and piled up. After watching the deer hit the ground, I decided just to stay there a little longer since it was still early, hoping to see if anything else came by, so that I bring Alex up there the next day if he didn't get anything. After about 5 minutes, it started raining harder, and the wind started picking up. That was enough for me!! I packed my stuff, and headed to the deer. Once I was there, I found out that the deer wasn't exactly the one that I had thought he was. It was an 8 pt, but had a narrow spread. Oh well, it's still a good deer, and it all eats the same. I drug the deer to the edge of the food plot, I walked out to get the 4 wheeler, field dressed the deer, and headed back to the house. I was back at my mother's house, drinking a cup of coffee by 8:00 AM. While I was in there talking to my mother and step-dad, my brother called from Africa. As I was talking to him, I heard a shot go off from up on the hill, in the general direction Alex was at. I tell my brother this, and tell him, "OK, I better go check on him." Since my 4 wheeler has a deer on it, I go over to the barn and get my brother's 4 wheeler and ride up on the hill to the shack.
I drove slowly and quietly up to the shack, and stopped right beside it. Inside, Alex has a big grin on his face, and his whole body is shaking! HaHaHa! "Did you shoot?" "Yeah" "Was it a buck?" "Yep" "Pretty good one?" "Yeah" "Which way did he go?" "Over the hill that way. Uncle Mark, can I get out of here now??" Poor guy was tore up! He came out of the shack, and took me to where the deer had been standing when he shot. There was hair there and a few drops of blood. On further, there was a really good blood trail, so I figured that the deer wasn't very far away. Alex wasn't following the blood trail, but was wanting to go to the last place he had seen the deer. I kept having to pull him back, showing him different things about the trail, and how to follow it. It was worse than trying to pull a coon dog back off a hot trail!!! We topped over the hill, and there layed his deer. He had made a good lung shot, with the deer having traveled maybe 50 yards. Counting the points, it was a basket-racked 7 pt. Alex was looking at the deer and said, "Well, I got dad a deer." I told him, "B.S.! Man, that's YOUR deer!" I put Alex to dragging the deer down the hill to another road where I could get the 4 wheeler to it, while I went back down to the house to see if my brother was still on the phone. He was, so I told him everything that had happened. He was tickled to death!
Once I got up to where Alex was, I cleaned some of the blood off of the deer, and posed him with the deer for pictures. After the pictures, I walked him through field dressing the critter. We got it loaded, and down to the barn and hung up, as well as hanging mine. Not too bad for getting everything done by 10:00 AM.
Alex and his step-mother had to fly back home the next day, so I got stuck not only processing my deer, but his as well. Since Alex really liked the deer, I took pains skinning it, and took the hide to the taxidermist to have them tan it for him for his Christmas present. I also took the antlers, mounted them on a plaque, drilled a hole in the side of the empty cartridge case, and mounted it on the plaque as well. I was able to give him the mounted antlers for Christmas, along with a picture of the hide, and a picture of the front of the taxidermy shop, since the hide won't be done until this fall.
It was a good weekend, one that I'll probably remember for the rest of my life. My son is only 5 now, but in a few years he'll be right there with me hunting. Until then, the one thing that I'll remember about the whole weekend will be, "Uncle Mark, can I get out of here now!"
Big58cal
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