Your first buck.....

[TheRogue]

I was born and raised on the southern Oregon coast, into a logging family. I was packin' heat by the time I was seven years old, and my friends and I were going out on digger squirrel hunting trips by ourselves when I was ten. So, deer hunting was a foregone conclusion.

My father had his own logging company. Being that fire season always lasted into October, he was working behind locked gates during deer season. He always had deer during season (maybe sometimes more than legal). I just knew that first year I was going to have to pick and choose for the one I wanted.

Of course, it was one of "those" years. Dad was logging a USFS timber sale, so it was public access, lots of road hunters in the area, so we didn't see much the first few weeks. We lived on 1000 acres right on the beach just north of Gold Beach, which had lots of deer, but also lots of sheep, a few cows, and a bunch of goats which ran wild as soon as we bought them (another story there!!).

All the sudden, it was the last week of the season, and I hadn't gotten anything yet. All my school friends had deer, and the pictures to brag about. My dad had taken his on the way home from work one evening. I was starting to get worried. I was hunting every day after school on the ranch, scaring the sheep around more than anything.

One afternoon, I climbed all the way to the top of the hill. It's very open and grass covered, with some brush patches and rock piles. Those wild goats? Well, they just love the place (this was 24 years ago, and their descendants still roam the mountain). I walked around a rock pile, I could smell the goats. Yup, there were at least 20 of them scattered around me, from 20 to 100 yards away. All these darn black and white animals everywhere...but, what the...one is just over the hump, and all I can see is it's brown back? Hey, we don't have any brown goats up here! 12 year old panics. This animal, whatever it is, is about 30 yards away down the hill just over a hump, can see about 1/2 way down it's body, no neck or head. I put up my trusty hand-me-down Savage 99E lever-action 243 to my shoulder, looked through the 4x Leupold, and whistled.

ANTLERS!!!

Holy crud, it's a buck, and a big one!! All I can see through the scope is antlers, then I pulled down so all I can see is brown. BOOM!! the deer doesn't move. BOOM!! the deer still doesn't move. BOOM!! the deer takes off running. Remember, this was all happening at 30 yards (or less), can you say "Buck Fever". It's hauling butt down the hill now, headed for the brush. One last shot, quartering away, about 80 yards now. BOOM!! The deer barrel rolls right down into the brush pile.

OMG, I'm freaked. Grabbing shells from my pocket, trying to cram them into the rotary feed magazine, can't imagine how many I dropped. I run down the hill, I can hear lots of movement in the brush. Fortunately, it's a small brush pile, and not real tall, so I can see in and through it. There's the deer! BOOM!! he's crawling away again. BOOM!! still going. Finally crash into the pile, get almost on top of him, and shoot him right in the back of the neck. Victory is mine!!

Oh, crap, now what! I've never field dressed an animal on my own before. Gutted lots of sheep hanging in the barn, but that was a lot easier. I rolled him over, and find that my last desperation shot had broke both his front legs right at the knees, talk about incredible luck. I also realize that: A. Part of the smell from the goats was actually from this buck, he was really rutted up, huge neck, and stinky... and B. He was really, really big! A very, very large 4x3 with eyeguards.

So, I did the only thing I could do. Opened up the belly with my knife, and hacked out the insides in chunks until I figured I had most everything out. Then, hmmm, I was a big strong 12 year old....but not big enough to pack this thing back, or even try to drag it out of the brush pile.

So, having calmed down enough to actually unload my rifle, I took off running. It was about a mile down the old road and through the field back to the house....that's the only time in my entire life I've willingly run that far! My mom to this day laughs about how I came into the house, covered in blood, rifle in my hand, glazed look in my eyes, trying to say I'd killed a deer, but not being able to talk because of the exertion and excitement. My dad happened to get home just at the same time, so we drove up and picked up the deer. If anything, it had gotten bigger! We took it home and skinned it, didn't smell any better after the skin was off, fat was completely pink. We skinned the fat off as best we could, and hung it for a couple of days. Tried to make jerky out of it, but I think it mostly went for dog food (which was fine, because we had 4 McNabb cow/sheep dogs, and they ate a LOT of food!!)

That was 24 years ago, and I stil remember it like it was yesterday. I can still see every detail, and hope I always will.

Other first animal stories??

TR

[StickFish]

Ok I'll play.

I grew up bird hunting in a state to the south of us. My dad wasn't a big game hunter, but a couple times a year he would go duck or pheasant hunting. A friend of mine owned a large cattle ranch and I sued to go there and shoot rabbits and other pests, was a member of a local gun clubs junior rifle team and shot a lot of trap (I took hunters safety as well)

When I moved to Oregon in 83 to start college, my room mate was into deer hunting. Didn't know much about it or really care - but he invited me down to Newport one weekend to see what it was all about. Mind you I didn't bring a rifle - just a camera. I did that for a couple seasons through college and thought it would be interesting to try after graduation.

1988 finally rolled around and graduation and new hire training followed. During the summer I picked up a Weatherby Vanguard in 06 and had shot it a few times. I was away at training for most of the season, but managed to make it out two weekends. First one didn't even see a deer except for the ones others shot. I made it out again the last weekend and we ended up in a zipper lipped spot up off Lobster Valley. We walked a ways in and were seeing lots of does around but I didn't want a doe. About half way up the hill Mark spots a three point and hits him and down he goes and then wobbles into the forest. The whole time we had been looking up - I look down and 150 yards away and below us is a huge 4 point - I uttered a few choice words and drew down - not even taking the time to get the cross hairs on the deer - BOOM - deer starts to walk - BOOM - buck starts to Run - this time I think doh! use the cross hairs you noid. Boom - Buck turn and runs up hill - this time I got it figured out or calmed down - you pick. Anyhow I put the cross hairs on neck and BOOM down he goes.

We had to hike clear to the top and back down the other ridge to get to the deer cause we though it was too nasty to go through the draw. I find mine, but we can't find Mark's - I head down and not knowing anything about gutting a deer I get started - shall I say slowly. Anyhow Mark comes along and helps me figure it out and we drag this deer out through the draw we thought was too nasty - it was easier than going back up again that is for sure.

We finally get this buck into the back of the truck and in the creek next to us are a bunch of fall nooks going up the creek to spawn - course I'm standing in the middle of them coffee cup in hand drinking water out of the creek - ya dumb I know but I needed water bad to settle the cramps - fish bumping into my legs - excuse me, parden me, yo dude get out of the way. Somehow one of those fish ended up in the back of the truck (I had nothing to do with that) I think Mark tossed one on the bank - not sure - I was too tired to notice.

Got the buck back to their place to skin and hang for a few days - than back to Newport to butcher.

I didn't even buy a tag this year - but Elk season is coming

OK who is next.

[fishlis 1]

It was a cold rainy Nov. day. I had hunted this area 3 days a week for the entire season. I had filled my doe tag 2 days prior to my first buck. While i was packing out my doe I came around a brush pile and there he stood. I stood there staring at him with the same stupid look he had staring at me. I was pinned down unable to do anything, not lift my rifle not nothing! After what seemed like an eternity he bounded off into a sea of reprod. With the doe on my back I finished my pack. I couldn't stop thinking about what I should of or could of done.
Two days later I found myself in the same draw, it was the last day of the season. After a hard morning hunt I headed back to my rig with an unpunched tag, I looked to my right and saw a trail I had never seen so i headed down I did'nt even go 200 yards in and to my surprise there he was the same 4pt that I had seen when I was packing out my doe. We had the same stupid looks on our face as two days prior this time I got to raise my rifle and squeeze one round of my trusty old 30/30 and he dropped about 30 yard away. The thing that made it so special is that I was the 3rd generation to take a first buck with that rifle. This buck is my biggest to date. 19 inches wide and 21 tall. Since that day I have been fascinated with Blacktails and will never shoot a small one. There is something about there racks that is special and I don't know what it is.
Sam

[Grantspastor]

About 1960 growing up in Joseph, Oregon My Dad, Cousin and I had climbed up the back side of the East morraine at Wallowa Lake. (This was before Joseph got "discovered")
As we peered over the top there was a group of about 20 Mulies with 5 or 6 bucks. My Dad let me have first crack at them, so from 125 yards I took careful aim with my 30-30 and squeezed off a shot...then another..then another, exhausting my total supply of 3 rounds of ammunition. The buck just stood there, but all the rest were scattering at top speed. My Dad and cousin harvested two bucks on the run, while I'm pleading for my Father's gun to shoot again at "my" deer. This all took place in seconds, and when my Father handed me his rifle, I raised it up only to see my 4 x 5 buck go down to his knees and roll over. Apparently I had hit him with one of the three shots.

[Hunt'nFish]

Hey GrantsPaster, I too grew up in Wallowa County. Left for college in 85.

My first buck was out on Starvation Ridge w/ Dad.
I was packing grandad's Rem722 .300Sav.
We no more than walked a 1/4 mile down one ridge when we see a nice muley not more than 50yrds straight down the ridge. I'd been anticipating this day for years and you know what..... I blew it! Yep, clean miss. I was shaking like a leaf! This buck was HUGE, biggest dad had seen in a long time. You only get the first shot freebie once. That was the last time he ever waited for me again.

Today I still get the jitters when I see a nice buck but I've gotten a lot better about it. I just love hunting so much, it still gets my heart going.
W.Tracker

------------------------
Mike Knifong Gunsmithing
Beaverton, OR
ultramag338@yahoo.com

[alwyze fishin]

remember mine like it was yesterday had all year not seeing a thing last day of the season dad and uncle dump this smelly doe in heat stuff on me and sent down thro a clear cut in hopes i would kick something out from the bad smell i was bring along well got to the tree line went down thro the timber to a water hole as i got to it i see a deer drinking from it i look and oh sh-- its a buck not big but legal as i raise the gun the shacks start and he starts to run bring the gun around and pull the trigger down he goes still shaking like heck i run over and still alive boom another round in him dad and uncle come along to see what i missed but nope there he laid they where laughing so had all the way home telling me if i would have stopped in the clear cut that bucks noise would have been stuff up my a== he was so close be hind they didnt dare shot he was that close. to this day i think of that every time i use doe or elk sent

oh never did find where i hit him on the first shoot

[OR Coast Range]

It was toward the end of my second season. During my first season I had taken a doe during the last week of the season out of this same spot.

One morning my dad sent me down this clearcut that was on a gently sloping hill. It was the type of hill where you can't see the bottom until you're 50 yards from the bottom because of the gentle slope. I made my way in the dark to where I would be able see the to the bottom of the hill when it got light enough and found a nice stump to sit on to wait for daylight. I had been down in this canyon before, so I knew my way.

The sky started to lighten and things started to take shape around me. At the bottom of the canyon was a small stream that had a bunch of small alders around it. I couldn't see into the alders, but I could see the hillside on the far canyon wall.

I sat on the stump for about half an hour; by that time it was full light out. I had been hearing rustling in the alders, but I couldn't see anything. Then I saw a doe start making its way up the hillside toward me. She had a yearling following her. They passed within 10 yards of me, but I wanted a buck this year (besides, I wasn't about to orphan the yearling). I had a little bit of fun with her as she passed - I would whistle at her and made her freeze. Eventually she'd loosen up and start moving again and I'd make her freeze again. We played this game for about 20 minutes before she made her way over the lip of the hill and out of sight.

I sat on that stand for about another hour before I decided to call it quits and head out. I jumped off my stump and started walking out when I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. I look back and saw a forken horn trotting up the far side of the canyon (he'd been in the same area as the doe). I hunt with an '243 with open sites. I didn't even think and just pulled up and took a shot offhand BAM and he went down like a ton of bricks. I started jumping up and down and was feeling pretty good about my shooting ability (he was about 75 yards and on the move) when he jumped up and started streaking for the tree line.

I knew that I had hit him, and he didn't look like he was slowing down. This was when the shakes hit - terrible time for it. So I pull up and try to hit him with offhand shots again BAM - BAM - BAM. He's still moving.

I'm shaking like a leaf by now as I try to fish the extra shells out of my pocket and reload. I manage to get two more shells in and I tried to calm down. I looked around and found a rest to shoot from, so I took my time with my next shot BAM. He's still on his feet.

I know I've got one more shot. I know I've got a wounded deer headed for the tree line. So I said a small prayer: "Please let this next shot count. I don't want to loose a wounded deer." BAM. And I watched him tumble into a thicket of vine maple and he stayed down.

When the shakes finally stopped I made my way over to him and found out that my first shot had broke his lower jaw. If I didn't stop him before he hit the treeline, he would have been the next county over before he finally died of dehydration or starvation. I also found that my last shot passed right through dead center of his heart.

[oregonoutdoors]

I was 14 and bowhunting late season mule deer around thanksgiving time with my dad near Susanville, CA. We were glassing a draw and spotted around 8-10 deer, with a forked horn and a small three point. My dad wanted to try a direct stalk on them, but we had tried this in this same drainage a couple of days before and the deer sidehilled it out of there before we could get within range. I went over to where I had seen the deer flee to before and my dad stalked through the sage downhill towards them. My plan worked perfectly. The forked horn came trotting out, saw me drawing my bow and stopped broadside at 20yrds. He looked back over his shoulder at the other deer, like he was asking them now what do I do? I thought that he was at 20yrds, but buck fever logic got the better of me and I decided that I better shoot for 30 since I had been underestimating the ranges in this open country. I shot about 6 inches over his back! He trotted off and my heart instantly fell. I decided to follow and see where they all ran off to. I walk about 40yrds and see these 6" forked tines poking out of the brush about 25yrds ahead. He was standing there looking at me. I walked about 10yrds to my left so that I could get a broadside shot while looking straight at the ground. I drew and shot the brush in front of him, dang. He jumped and then started walking off uphill. I got another arrow out shot at him at around 25yrds quarterng away. I saw the arrow skip off a rock behind him so I got out another arrow. I shot over his back while he was walking away, he jumped and ran over the hill. I was really depressed, but thought that I better go look for my arrows before it got dark. I walked over to where my last arrow went and what did I find but blood all over the place. Pinkish/red bubbly blood and tons of bright red splashes. My third arrow had hit him in the lung quartering away and came out through the other lung right behind the opposite leg. It passed through so fast I thought that I had missed, not bad penetration for 35lb draw weight. He was a fairly big forked horn with 6" of bone above the fork, and looked really good in his winter coat.

[InPursuit]

I was 22 years old and in the Marine Corps stationed in Barstow California when I met a retired marine from Oregon. He invited me to go deer hunting for the first time in my life. That first season, I learned as much as I could from a guy who stressed safety and ethics more than anything else. I didn't harvest an animal that first year but I did learn a lot of valuable lessons from a great mentor. Going home empty handed wasn't disappointing because of the valuable experience I gained and the friendships I made. I was hopelessly hooked on hunting. Now, 28 years later, I still hunt with the former son-in-law of my mentor.

I hunted deer for the second time the following year. I hunted several times that year without filling my tag. I decided to go the final weekend of the season even though I had to work late on Friday night. I drove 3 hours in my 72 Vega to our spot and arrived at about 3 AM. I figured I would get a couple of hours of sleep before hiking up to where I made my stand prior to daybreak. The way I learned to hunt was to get on stand before the sun came up and let the other hunters push the deer around. Well, I overslept and woke up after 0900. I figured that the season was over because I had overslept. After some arguing with myself (imagine a rookie hunter trying to rationalize with himself using all of his vast knowledge about the sport to make a sound decision about what to do next) I decided to hunt up and over a high ridge where deer were known to bed.

I left camp about 0930 and headed for the hills. I spooked a group of does about an hour into the hunt. Since there was no buck, I figured that the does would be all of the deer I would see until the following year. I hiked up and over the ridge, got lost, heard someone shooting a .22 near the area where I was to descend the ridge, dropped my scoped rifle, fell down twice and was generally making a lot of noise on loose rock. I felt as though I was doing everything wrong and against everything I had learned up to that point in my hunting career. But......just as I got near the bottom of the ridge, a buck jumped out and ran out to about 125 yards and stopped (to wait for the doe he was bedded with). I couldn't believe it! Everything had gone wrong but here was a legal deer standing out at 125 yards. I knelt down and got a good rest then saw that the only shot I had was at the rear half of the deer. He was standing behind a tree and slightly quartering away. If he took off, I would never see him again. I remember thinking that if he took off, he would be out of sight in about 2 steps. Today I would have let him go but that day, I shot. I remembered at that point why they issued us ear plugs in the Marine Corps. When the smoke cleared, I saw that the deer had gone down. I RAN that 125 yards as though I was going to tackle that deer if he got up and tried to escape. I hit that deer in the back but it was far from a clean kill. I put another one through the ribs from about 2.5 feet because I didn't know what else to do.

Now there I was, about a mile from camp with a deer down. I had heard stories about having to drag a deer, at the most, only about 200 yards to get it to the rig. I had a deer down a long way from a road in 75 degree weather and no help. Oh well, I broke out my "How to care for big game meat" book (I actually still have this book and it still has blood stains on some of the pages) and began at step one. About 2 hours later, I finished and started dragging this deer across the desert toward the road. I put the deer in the back of the vega and headed for town.

My trophy was a small forked horn that dressed out at about 100 lbs. Someone later stole the antlers from my fence where I hung them to dry. No rack to remember him by but his memory will last forever.

G-Dubb

[Walleyed]

Don't have time for the story now but thanks for some real good reading.
Walleyed

[baltz526]

first buck,i still have the little 3x2 rack and a picture of the head in the back of my 72 courier. near round swamp on wickiup reservoir i was sneaking down a plowed up logging rd, at first light with my marlin 30-30. i hear a group of deer coming through the jackpine thicket, coming from water, three small bucks come out, at about 30yds, i can hear two other deer coming, but the 2 1/2 yr old buck catches my sent and stares right at me, so i have to choose,now or never. the deer never took a step after being hit with that 150gr reload.

[No Wishin Just Fishin]

It was 1972 and I had just gotten out of the service after 3 tours in Vietnam.Since there was only 3 days left in the season I was able to show my discharge and buy a tag. Early(2am( the next morning [petunias!] of the north aka Ed Bacon and I turned up Gates Hill Road to head up the power lines. At the fork in the road near the top a large 4pt and 3 does appeared on the road and sauntered into the brush. We went on down to where the power line crosses again and at daylight Ed started down the line. I drove back to where we saw the buck, pulled off the road and climbed on the hood and leaned against the windshield where I could see down the power line where I assumed the deer had gone in the dark. I had borrowed my brother's 308 and kept messing with the 3x9 leopold until I finnally settled on 4power for the kill. after an hour and a half, and about 20 rigs went by I decided to go investigate the brush by the road to see if I could find a track and start tracking the deer, When I stepped into the thicket, it literally exploded with 5 or 6 deer going every which way out of the brush. I ran around the thicket and much to my surprise the 4x4 was standing broadside at about 100 yds next to a fallen tree. I put the crosshairs on him behind the shoulder and BOOM. After
I blinked a couple times,I was looking at the same spot and the deer had disappeared. My heart sank as I ran to the spot hoping to get another shot down the hill. When I got to the tree I looked down the hill and No Buck??? I looked at my feet behind the tree and He was laying there, looking up at me blinking His eyes, where i promptly shot Him between the eyes and He rolled over dead. The first shot took out the backbone right where it meets the neck, I assume paralizing him. About then, Ed shows up and we start dressing him out(the deer, not Ed)It was and still is the largest blacktail I have ever shot, although I have killed bigger Mulies. It is also the only deer where I lost my breakfast while gutting. It was a 4x4 and the 4 tines on each side were 10-13 inces long from the forks and 23 inches wide. Every time I look at the picture, I remember a buck
like it was yesterday, even 33 yrs later.

[Tagster]

I was 12. I lived in McCall, Id. with my dad. He lived to hunt. I had gone with him before, but, I was too young to actually carry a rifle.

This year, he decided that we were going to pack in camp with our horses. Fitsum Creek Canyon was the go to spot for him.

I rememeber it taking several hours to get to our campsite and it was freezing cold. 6000' elevation. We set up the tent and pegged out the horses. He told me that after we walked up a small hillside, there would be a small draw. On the other side of the draw would be a herd of mule deer that he had been watching for several years.

Well, he was right. We were leaning over these boulders and watching the herd trying to figure out which animal to take. He pointed out the biggest one...a huge 4X4. He was about 100 yds away and just a little uphill of us. As I lined up with the v-sights, they all laid down. The grass was tall engough that we couldn't see any animals. As I was watching with my heart in my throat and lungs just a pumping away, I saw him stand up...this time, I didn't lose sight and let one fly.

Unfortunately (and I am seeing a trend among these first hunt stories), my first one got him right across the stomach and dropped out some of his insides. My second shot got him in the shoulder. Now I can hear the deer and he ain't happy...I start tearing up and can't see very clearly. My dad tells me to finish him off, so I let one more go and get him right behind the shoulder and he drops.

23 years later, I still have those antlers in my garage. As a matter of fact, they are the only antlers in my garage.

It was a very sentimental hunt as the rifle that I was using is the same rifle that my dad used to shoot his first deer. My grandfather was carrying that rifle when he was killed by a (non)hunter mistaking him for a deer. The rifle still has the notch on it where the bullet hit before getting grandpa. It is a Winchester model 88...308 win. I guess that rifle has some value, but I could never bring myself to sell it.

Tag

[TheRogue]

0

[Jeremy]

Got my first buck and first deer a year ago almost to this day. It was the second day of the paulina season and i had arrived around 11:30pm of opening day (had to be at the Beavers game). Got woken up around o'dark thirty in the morning on about 5 hours of sleep and did a pretty good morning hunt, saw a couple of does right at dawn that were pretty far away and didnt have any bucks hanging out with them, and then saw 3 more does later that morning during the hunt but that was it. This was one of my first true hunts since it was only my second year of hunting (i am 27 but just started hunting about 3 years ago). Got back to camp ate lunch and made up a game plan for the afternoon. Started the afternoon hunt and not 5 minutes into it one of the guys i was with shoots a fork right next to me i couldnt see him through the trees but it was standing right off the road we walked in on and he happened to go into the woods at the right spot. I figured the rest of that hunt would be ruined but continued on with it anyway. Saw a couple more does and fawns, and not much else going on. About an hour or so later got out into a little bit more open country with lots of space between the pines and lots of sage and happened to see something moving out of the corner of my eye. Looked up and there were two 3-points running straight at me at about 75 yards. Pulled up my gun and realized i had my scope dialed all the way up to 9 so all i can see trough the scope is 2 heads and a bunch of antlers bobbing around still running full speed straight at me, by this time they were probably less than 50 yards away, i dropped to a knee, dialed my scope down to something less than 9 (i didnt look just spun it) and by the time i got my eye back on it they were both crossing in front of me at 10 yards still going full speed, got the second deer in my sights and pulled the trigger when he was at about my 11 o'clock, he dropped instantly and slid head first through the pumice for about 15 feet. since this was the first deer that i shot i figured he would jump right back up and i would have to shoot him again so i reloaded real fast and waited for him to move, just about that time the guy hunting next to me had the other 3 point going flying by him even faster than before since now he was getting shot at, he missed him with all 5 shots so i told him to come help me with mine. He thought i missed because a deer went running by him until i convinced him there were 2 deer. About the time we were getting ready to gut him another oldtimer that was with us shows up and says "you guys gonna gut that thing? get out of the way and let me show you how its done". Needless to say i only had to shoot him once since the first shot broke his back.

[FishinTechnician]

It was my first year to carry a gun. We had gone on lots of hunts with Dad, but this year (I was about 12) I was carrying a 30-30 lever-action Marlin w/buckhorn sights. Dad and I had hunted all morning around Abiqua Creek in the Santiam unit and had not seen a thing.

We had just finished lunch at the car and decided to walk out a different logging road. As we were walking along together on the road I looked to my right up an old skid road and saw a spike buck standing broadside at about 50 yds with his head down eating. I threw the rifle up, put it on his neck and pulled the trigger. At the shot he immediately went down. I started running toward him and when I was about half way to him he got up so I shot again aiming for the neck. Just as with the first shot he fell hard on the second.

I started runnning for him again and when I got close I laid my gun down and grabbed my knife to cut his throat as Dad had instructed us to do as soon as the animal was down. I jumped on the deer and about that time he started kicking and flailing his head around. The next thing I remember Dad grabbed me by the suspenders and lifted me off that deer before I got kicked in the head, or stabbed by one those spike horns.

On closer inspection my two shots had indeed hit him in the neck. The entry holes were about an inch apart and the exit hole was about 3" across.

[newportfisher]

I was in the car driving down a road going to a place we had known that Bucks would be. All of a sudden the driver asked my friend and I what those were on the hill. We jumped out and off the road, uncased or guns, loaded them and took a rest about 15yds off of the road. Blam I shot and knew I hit it but didnt think i had hit it well. Blam I shot again. Crap....he left out of sight. We walked up the hill to see where the blood trail was, and I had dropped him with the first shot, and missed the second. We were about 10yds from my deer and saw another one laying dead there. But where did it come from? My firend Joe had shot, and in all my adrenellin (sp?) I didnt hear him. We had two bucks, 30 min into the hunt.

No that I look back on it I dont remember even aiming really. Just pulling the trigger......I love those times.

[duckboy]

I remember My first duck. I was 10, it was october along the Klamath river. I went with My dad, and with Judge Davis and 2 of his boys that were my age.

Dad and I tried Jump shooting some, but it was a beautiful day, and nothing was moving.

We went out along the river and dad and i got into a blind made up of cat tails.

I remember it was such a nice day that dad decided to lay down and take a nap in the reeds. He was snoring along when i saw my bird.

It was a little hen Buffler, and i was on it.

I shot 1 time on a left to rt cross about 1 foot off the water.

That bird skipped along the water and dad sat up and saw the bird and gave me a big pat on the back and we were up and out to get it.

Seems like yesterday, but it was 25 years ago!

[burnsfactor]

Man nice stories, Here I go.............

My Dad died when I was 4 years old, So I never got to go hunting as a kid or young adult. What I did get to see was all the pictures and stories of my Dad and Grandfather as these big hunters and fisherman. Story after story. Well I get out of the military and start dating my future wife. Just so happens that my wifes entire family hunts and fishes. So I get invited at the ripe old age of 28 to go on my first ever hunting trip. I had to go out and buy everything a new hunter would buy. Of course the wife went out and bought just as much stuff. I asked my mom if I could use One of my Dad's guns for my first ever deer hunt. No problem. She gives me his old 30.06 with a 4 powered scope on it. Great looking gun and little did I know at the time about the straighest shooting gun I have to this day. So I drive up to the deer camp with all my new smelling duds and meet my wife's cousin and dad. We make a game plan for opening morning and follow it for about an hour. We were suppose to meet at this old ranger station at 8 am in the middle of the woods. I'm thinking our pre-hunt..do you know how to use a compass question and answer session should have been aimed at them. Nobody shows up as planned. I remember back months when my soon to be Brother-in-law calls me up and out of the blue tells me to make sure I had a back-up plan for the openning day. It seems this sort of thing has happened before. So with my compass and map in hand and a good idea of the lay of the land and where I was, I keep hunting. I walk up this small hill around 8:30 am to find a very large field in front of me. I'm thinking about all the books I read about hunting. What should I be doing at this time! In the middle of this field there is about at acre of timber. I head directly towards the timber and an old logging road. The whole time walking on the grass between the tire marks. As I walk into the first twenty feet of the woods all hell breaks loose. To my left are two fallen trees running along the road I'm walking on. These trees are between four and five feet off the ground. On top of the tree is rack.................a rack......My heart is pounding faster than ever. The Deer jumps from behind the downed trees and onto the road that I'm walking. I'm thinking to myself that thing is two big to be a Deer, It has to be and elk. Look at that rack. thirty yards,forty yards, I kneel down,saftey off,fifty yards, I have a Deer or what I think is a Deer in the sites. Sixty yards, I'm thinking, look at the tail it's a Deer, pull the trigger. The Dear stops and turns back towards me at a forty-five degree angle. I put the scope on it's head, than on the rack, on it's ass, it's a deer shoot it! Back to it's head and face. The Deer is looking around to see what spooked it out of it's bed. All of a sudden with me looking at it's face with the 4 powered scope it stops looking around and looks directly at me. My heart is pounding so hard, I'm thinking to myself you've shot thousands of rounds in the military you can make this shot. At that moment I drop the site down onto his neck and pulled the trigger gently. When I looked back up the buck was gone. I ran as fast as I could up to the spot that I last saw him and there he was. I can still remember to this day the wide range of emotions that day brought to me. I gutted the Deer and made it back to camp by 9:30 am. When I walked back into camp there was my wife's cousin and Dad. We gathered are stuff to go get the Deer. The whole time they kept asking me how big it was. I truly didn't know. I knew it wasn't a fork,but thats what I told them it was. When they got to where I shot this beast they couldn't believe it. I swear he almost had a cow! Too this day that deer is the biggest deer of the family. My first Deer was a 8 by 9 non-typical mule deer. What a day!

[timmer1533]

ummmmmmmmm, right out of the truck window, still drunk, still dark, and still thinking of what a fool I was! Guilt Guilt Guilt never went back to that scene since then, by the book.

[gottafish]

Walked out the back door of the house and out to the bean field and rested the 30-30 against the old oak on the fence roe and shot a 12 point whitetail 6X6 western count. I was 12 years old. Been a bow hunter ever since, that gun hunting wasn't much fun. after 46 deer in the freezer I went from a compound to a recurve. Still waiting for that first recurve buck.

[ryser]

Well all the stories are great!! I on the other hand haven't been able to bag that elusive buck, but I will some day.
When my dad was into hunting as a young adult he got shot at so he sold all dear gear, and the only thing we did as far as hunting was to go pheasant hunting 3 times. Don't get me wrong my dad is a good father and friend I'am just saying that we didn't do a lot of hunting, but we did fly fish quite a bit.

Anyhoo I will get on with it, my first dear was a doe and that was taken with my 270 feather weight, and concequently the other dear I have taken have also been doe's with the same rifle. One other interesting fact is that I didn't shoot my first dear untel I was 35. Also each animal that my sons have taken be it a elk or dear have all been taken with the same rifle.
Sorry this is not much of a story other than a string of facts, boring I know but when I do get my buck and bull you can beet I will give the whole story.

[Fish Slayer]

Well it was about 2 weeks ago. We were heading to camp down a side road and we got about half way and dad says "Erik, there's a buck!" So I jump out, knock an arrow and ask "how far is it?" Everything was in the back of the truck so my dad guessed about 45 yards. Good enough for me. So I draw my bow and he takes of and stops about 10 yards from where he was initially. I cut loose and thought I missed low, but ended up double lunging him at some where around 40 yards. I was pretty pumped as soon as I let the arrow fly, but you should've seen me when Dad found him! He only went about 100 yards but it took us like 2 hours to track him because he bled out inside! But we found him non the less and it turned out to be a nice little forked horn. And if you want a more detailed story, go take a look at my other post.

But here he is, one of the tastiest deer I've ever tasted:

[billc_sbio]

I grew up NOT coming from a Big Game hunting family. And, as a boy, we were at least an hour's drive from the nearest area that really held any deer.

In fact most of my early hunting experiences were shared by my first mentor, who was my best friend's father, who was an avid Waterfowl hunter. Funny, that friend didn't hunt at all!

So I was in my late 20s before I got together with some guys from the company I worked for, down in Cali, to go out and try my hand at Deer hunting.

I think we went hunting 1 or 2 seasons, just weekend hunts, in some National Forest areas that didn't appear to really hold too many deer!

But, it was our only "good" public land choice and I was up there on my 3rd try.

Typically, we'd only hear 5-6 shots, usually somewhere waaay off in the distance and that's all we'd ever see or hear. Sometimes we might see a doe or two, crossing the dirt roads as we drove into our locations the night before the opening.

Well that year, we hunted opening morning and heard the shots off in the distance, in various directions. It was late morning, and almost noon, and I heard a shot down in the canyon below us. I got ready, but nothing ever showed up.

A few minutes later, my hunting buddy, who'd been down on that hillside, came walking up. He told me he'd been down there and seen some girl across the hill from him as she spotted a Coyote and shot at it. He said after her shot he saw a really nice buck get up and take off.

As we talked we slowly walked along overlooking a shallow tree covered draw.

Suddenly my friend, Bill, shouts, "There he is!" He scrambles to get his rifle unslung off his shoulder as I do the same slightly after him as he was already moving as he said it.

I'm looking but don't see anything! I quietly say, "Where?"

And as he raises his Remington 742 Semi-auto in .30-06, he says, "Right there!" as he points his rifle right AT this deer thats trotting not 35 yards in front of us!

He fires a shot, and MISSES as the buck takes off running!

He fires a second shot and nothing! He fires a third shot and NOTHING again! (He, the big advocate for LOTS of semi-auto firepower, had only loaded 3 rounds in his rifle ...not that that 2 more would have improved his shooting )

Finally, he's not shooting anymore and the buck's run in a large half circle, getting out of Dodge at full speed.

I have my Ruger 77 in .270 Win. up on my shoulder, trying to determine the proper lead. The buck's now at about 130 yards and is a crossing shot. I pull out about what looks like an 18" lead and squeeze the trigger.

Suddenly the buck's just GONE from the picture! It looks like it just disappeared.

Bill yells at me, "It went down that away!" I go in one direction and he goes in the other, heading for these trees that are about 50 yards behind where we last saw the buck.

About the same time, a couple of other hunters, who'd been across this shallow draw from us (and getting ready to shoot at this buck as he came their way BTW) come walking up towards where I last saw it.

The one old guy (in his 50s) yells, "Here it is!" as we head over that way.

One nicely placed shot had dropped it and it fell off about a 4' rock ledge and was lying on the ground twitching as it expired.

The old guy walks up and looks and says, "Wow, I've been hunting this area for over 30 years now. There aren't that many bucks around here and most of them are pretty small. This is the biggest buck I've ever seen up here."

Well, in contrast to lots of big, beautiful, eastern Oregon Mulies I've seen, this isn't so big,

But for a central Cali. Sierra-Nevada westside Muley, this one isn't bad.

http://community.webshots.com/photo/...69183454ZzxKFm

It sure wasn't a bad way to start my Deer hunting harvest. Since then, that .270 has shot lots of nice bucks.

[baltz526]

that is one nice calif blacktail.i can only remember ever seeing one larger, and that was in the headlights of my stepdads truck above fiddletown.

[MORGANCREW]

I have been an archer since age 5. My father co-founded the Eastern Arizona Archery Club in the seventies. I have always shot a bow but because school was always my priority and because of my location, I never got to hunt untill 2002 when I was 22.

My dad and I were hunting the canyons of the famed "Arizona Strip" when we decided to hike back to camp and eat lunch. He wanted to take a nap, I decided to take a nap in my treestand. @ 2:00pm this little guy came walking by. He was almost straight down, the arrow went in just left of his spine and exited his belly on the same side. My 9 month old daughter was in camp so she got to help clean it(yea right).

http://www.bowsite.com/bstrophy/deta...?trophyid=4759

[Rank Amateur]

My first buck was one that Dad and I both shot at, a mule deer across a canyon, which I probably had no bussiness shooting at. One of those, we both shot at it and I think you hit it son things.

What I consider my really first buck was the next year when I did not get a Muley and came home and got a Blacktail. Dad was a logging contractor and thus was seeing all the bucks in his area. He took me on a Saturday morning to a recent clearcut that he was seeing a nice buck in. We drive up just at daylight and start walking down a semi-muddy logging road that cut through the clearcut. We moved along watching for the buck and a group of Does he had been hanging with. Finally we see a Doe and fawn and a little spike buck. Hmm... where is the buck? We watched the deer for quite a while and decide to return to the truck. I quess I had been looking at the ground alot on the way out that road, because as we got near the pickup I pointed out a fresh set of tracks to Dad. Yep, they looked real fresh, but the tracks walked right along side the pickup! I told Dad, those tracks were not here when we got out of the pickup. He kinda gave me the look, but continued to follow me as I followed the tracks. The tracks went across the rock logging road and into a small timbered draw. We slipped down into the timber the best a kid and Dad can. We had gone only about 60 yards and I see this deer standing broadside about 50 yards ahead of us. I stop and whisper there's a deer! Dad, doesn't see it (now this is a first)and I have to point it out. By this time I've got my .270 up and the deer in the crosshairs. Dad says,"It's got horns", Boom! He did't say it was legal, but I guess I had seen enough that I didn't hesitate. We both laugh about that today! I had a bad habit in my early days of finding the front shoulder on deer. I had shoved the ball joint off of the right front shoulder into the center of the heart. The buck went about 40 yards and piled up. I remember pulling the heart out of the carcass and telling Dad, that it is hard, and then pulling the ball out of the split in the heart. The deer was on an old cat road and we managed to get the Ford 4X4 backed in close, so we got that buck out tree length! Oh, it was a 4x4.

[blacktail519]

Wow.This thread really brought back some incredible memmories from my child hood. I still have pictures of my very firt Blacktail buck that i killed 20 years ago when i was 10 years old, and im 30 now. I know i wasnt even 12 years old yet, but i honestly remember walking through the woods with my father when i was 8 years old. I can recall many many many thumps on the back of my head telling me too be more quiet :grin: My father taught me alott,and when i was 10, he told me that year, that when he was 10 years old, he killed his first buck, and that he fealt i was ready after the many grueling hours i had spent with him the couple years prior. I remember being at the bottom end of a clearcut when him and my oldest brother went walking in above me. All i remember is the deer at a dead run too me from up above, and having a split second too shoot at the forked horn blacktial that was in the group. I remember shooting and unloading my rifle, and i seen the young buck go down..... I also remember reloading, and shooting at the buck even after he was down, and dead, i was so excited. I will never forget how [petunias!] my father was when we skinned that deer, and it had so many holes in it!!! My father gave me so much crap, but was so proud!! I look back on that first experience, and cant help but laugh, but it certainly will be a memmory that will stay with me for a lifetime

[StevenB]

A lot of good stories. I like the recent first deer stories as much as the ones taken umpteen years ago. My first deer seemed to be conjured from my own positive thinking and respect for the sences of a deer.

On October 16th of 1972 I filled out my first deer tag in the Silver Lake Unit of Oregon. It does not seem like yesteday unless I spend a few minutes or perhaps an hours thinking about that day. It's still the biggest Mule Deer I've ever taken. Big or small I think the majority of hunters first deers are liable to be memorable. I've tried to make every deer I've spotted let alone taken while hunting memorable.

I was 16 in 1972 and had hunted deer for the first time the year before. At 14 I wanted to hunt deer but as no one else in the family hunted at the time I had to pull a lot of strings to become a deer hunter who was still in high school with only a daisy bb gun and a small pile of Outdoor Life Magazines to my name.

My high school in western Oregon very few students wee interested in deer hunting so I counted on learning what I could from books and magazines and Chip L was the only kid I knew in my class that had hunted deer. Eventually I met a fwe others.

My folks are from Sweden where hunting is costly and dogs are often used in big game hunting. My dad had been on a hunts in Sweden and didn't like it and my mom had always wanted to hunt as a kid but being a girl in the early/mid 1900's was not invited.

Mom had the time and the interest to take me hunting and was a quick study on hunting her self. Dad came along on the first scouting trips and by the 1971 deer rifle season opener we were all in the woods hunting deer. We were learning how difficult it was to get within gun range of a deer in the cascades of Oregon. In mid season I had a health problem that ended the deer hunting season early and made elk hunting out of the question. Recovered in January I started reading the regulations like a reformed sinner would read the bible. In my art class I dedicated as many projects to big game illustration and recreation as possible.

I learned about the archery aspect of hunting and convinced my mom to join in on the passion to take a deer with archery gear too. The 1972 archery hunting effort made a big difference in how I hunted deer in the rifle season.

On October 16th The season was close to its end. I had not seen an antlered deer unless it was hanging in someone elses camp but I didn't care as I just wanted to be a contender. I was not still hunting sun rise till sunset like I tend to do now. I'd head back to camp for lunch, get oriented, and do an afternoon till dusk still hunt. I was so sure there was a big deer available for me and that I just had to apply myself. At shooting light about 1 mile outside of the National Forest in flat juniper covered terrain my mom & I were parallel to each other and still hunting from west to east. When the sun was starting to warm the air we came to a barbed wire fence in open sage terrain. 100 yards from the fence to the east was the next juniper forest. With my mom 100 yards to my right we crossed the fence and approached the juniper dence area at the speed of about one step every 5 seconds. It was a speed of walking archery hunting had taught us I believe.

Visiblility in the Junipers averaged about 30 yards. A herd of about 4 does had been spooked by my mom and ran past me on my right. I kept my eyes fixed on the area I'd seen the does in case a buck might be following. I was not the only one waching the does though. A buck had been looking at them pass too and was standing in front of me wuartering away. WHen the buck turned to look at the direction the does had come from I saw the movement of antlers and suddenly made out the body of the buck 40 yards away from me. I'd walked to within 40 yards of a mature 4 point mule deer buck without spooking the deer. I just saw the buck was legal and for some reason remained relativly calm compared to my experiences in the 1971 season. My safety came off and cross hairs found the chest area. At the shot the buck bolted forward as it bounded at full speed ahead away from me. WHen I was looking for sign of a hit where the buck was standing I looked up to see my mom waving at me. She was seeing a huge buck running off behind he at the time and was trying to get me to turn around to look or get out of the way so she could shoot. Not sure of the message I started to follow the obvious tracks of the buck I'd shot. After 40 yards I found him laying expired from my one shot that had been on target.

My mom found me un able to say more than "Oh My God" for about a minute. The buck was huge in body and antler. After finding out about the other buck I insisted my mom try to follow the tracks while I tried to use my cottontail rabbit cleaning skills to dress the buck.

It took me 2 hours to "empty" the deer... By then my mom had returned and with rifles unloaded and on our backs we picked up the antlers to drag my prize to the nearest road about 1 mile to the west. We hefted the deers head off the ground and leaned forward to pull and nothing happened. We were both about 5'6" tall. We looked at each other and were almost out of ideas right there. lacking skill my mom used logic. We carried our gear and guns ahead about 50 yards and made small dragging distance goals on the level terrain. It took about an hour to reach the fence we'd crossed that morning. The problem was we couldn't fit the 30 inch wide antlers between or under the wires. We saw a gate and trail to the north about 300 yards so my mom went to investigate while I stayed to try to drag the deer on my own. A few cattle were in the area and soon my mom spotted a fellow riding a horse so she started to wave her coat to attract some attention to her location. She met the rider at the trail and I watched as they talked for a while. Then I watched in disbelief as my mom was helped up onto the saddle and they both rode off together. About 30 minutes later it all made sence as they returned with the cowboys jeep.

The Cowboy Red Whitting from Paisley Oregon helped us take my first deer to our camp and get it hung up for skinning.
Red said he'd not seen such a large buck for years and was ful of congratulations for us both. He was especially impressed at my moms gumption to take her son out hunting. That's my mom.

I had studied taxidery and had decided to mount my first deer whether it was a spike or a new world record. I was busy measuring the deers features and then skinning the cape all along being thrilled from head to toe about the antlers mass.

At school I had one friend I shared my news with and it was not Chip L. Chip knew I'd been hunting but he never cared to ask about my hunt. I found that odd and annoying since it would be "less cool" for me to just announce my deer hunts results without being asked. Chip would tell stories about shooting deers in the hind quarters or loosing a wounded deer as though it was no big deal so I was not to keen of picking his brain about deer hunting any more. We were aquaintences not friends it seemed.

One day the fall of 72 Chip was complaining at the lack of does in the Alsea Unit where he had a doe tag. I told him I could show him a few places to find does as I'd archery hunted the unit that year.

He said he'd come by my house after school with his hunting partner to look at my maps. When he arrived I had my deers antlers sitting in sight in my room but I didn't say a thing about them. Chips said not a word about the antlers either. It was a sand off... We talked about my doe hunting ideas for a while. It was chips hunting friend that finally said something like "Hey those are some nice antlers" Right away Chip asked with hope in his voice.. "Did your dad shoot that deer?" I cooly said "No, that's the deer I shot this year."

At that point I think CHips head exploded all over my room as he tried to figure out how come my first deer was so huge. I had no idea of course but I had my theories it had to do with all thoses artistic renderings and reading about hunting.

No matter how I meassured my first deer though it was short of the 190 minimum for Boone & Crocket. It did rate a 186 3/8 score when I had it scored about 10 years ago for the Oregon Record books. I think if it had been a B & C deer my head would have exploded.

SB

[ehunter]

Well great stories guys and great memories. I went hunting with my grandfather to Eastern Oregon I did not get a deer so came home and hunted around the area I grew up in. My dad couldn't go with me (he didn't like to hunt but supported our hobbies) and I was only 13 so he decided to let me use a shot gun with slugs this was in Western Oregon since I was hunting and on my own he thought it would be safer. I waited for him to get home so I could go hunting. Well he forgot the slugs handed me his old family heirloom a bolt action 30,30 savage with open sites. I was estatic and took off to hunt well I found a forked horn, took a shot at about 40 yards aimed for his heart dropped him and ran up to him. While I was hopping around and saying oh boy oh boy another hunter showed up. He grinned and said this is your first deer I almost shouted yes. He said he was just about to pull down on this same deer when he heard the shot and the deer dropped he said nice neck shot son, I didn't say any thing. :grin: He helped me clean the deer and we drug him out to a country store porch and called my dad. I was pretty excited setting there on the porch waiting for my ride home. People would honk their horn in the cars and wave. Different day today now you almost have to hide your animal

[Fishstix]

Still working on it.