Memory Lane

Discuss deer hunting tactics, Deer behavior. Post your Hunting Stories, Pictures, and Questions/Answers.
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Boogieman1
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Memory Lane

Unread postby Boogieman1 » Fri Jul 17, 2020 6:40 am

What’s everyone’s best whitetail memory? Doesn’t have to be kill related. Maybe a first hunt, or sharing time with someone who has since headed to happier hunting grounds. I often get so caught up in the chase that I forget to stop and smell the roses every once an awhile. I take for granted many things. Truth is every single hunt may very well be our last.

My fav whitetail memory took place around the age of 10 with my father. Up to this point i had only watched deer and hunted small game. Me and my dad headed out shortly after daylight to watch a cactus flat. The morning was bitter cold and I still remember freezing to death decked out head to toe in cotton. I was sitting on the ground with my back to a cedar Bush, pops was right beside me with a steaming thermos of coffee sitting on a 5 gallon bucket. He instructed me that this is only the first hunt and we have 3 days so u don’t have to shoot the first deer you see. Shortly after we spot movement headed our way through the cactus flat. Inside of a 100 yards I realized it was a buck and my heart started racing. A one horned yearling spike gave me the fever. I looked at my father for approval and he spotted my excitement and gave me the green light. At about 40 yards with a open site 30-30 I made my move. I must have shot a good 5’ over the deer as cloud of dust and rock exploded in the distance. After watching the young buck run for the hills I looked over at my dad. He took a sip of coffee and said Kilroy you definitely got all of that that one. He started snickering and jabbed me in my ribs. Think he knew I was highly embarrassed. He told me son, we are here to have fun! Did you have fun? Look you win some and you lose some but always remember the reason you are here.

A short time later he said we might need to still go ahead and look around. There’s a good chance you scared that one to death. I remember laughing. Walking the long road back to camp I remember him putting his arm around me and saying.... Good thing I brought some steaks other wise we might starve to death. We both laughed.

You know til this day when I whiff on a good deer, I say Kilroy u got all of that one. Usually brings on a cracked smile and takes the sting out.

Realize this might not sound very loving. It’s hard to put things into words that require facial expressions and knowing one’s personality. But there was nothing mean spirited about it. I love my dad!


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Drenalin
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby Drenalin » Fri Jul 17, 2020 8:22 am

Great story Boogie!

My favorite memory is probably the first out of town hunt I went on. My grandfather, two uncles, a cousin, and my dad all headed out after Thanksgiving dinner to spend the weekend hunting paper mill property in the western end of the state. As a 10 year old kid, the whole experience was just so awesome to me. I remember coming back to camp that Friday around lunch, and one of my uncles had raided all the food! He must have eaten beanie weanies and whatever other cheap grub we brought along till he popped. Found him asleep against a tree outside the camper. The next day, we got into some deer and managed to lay down three does. Still remember that meal - my uncle fried up tenderloins with potatoes, mushrooms, and onions and I ate a big steaming plate of it sitting on one of those poor girls cause there weren't enough chairs to go around. I think I got to do maybe four of those trips and they are still some of my best hunting memories.
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby backstraps » Fri Jul 17, 2020 8:40 am

Awesome stories guys!! Good Times!

Drenalin, I almost spit my drink out laughing at your post. Ive never met ya but can picture in my mind sitting on one of the does eating a big ole mess of deer meat :lol: :lol: :lol:
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby Moose » Fri Jul 17, 2020 9:44 am

First buck i ever killed was with a bow and man was this thing a monster!! My heart was pounding so hard and fast. I made a good shot and i was hunting with a high school buddy in the same timber. He came over to help me track it and i was telling him how big this thing was. Well when we found it, he looked at me and said " you shot that"? Nope, what i shot was huge. Needless to say it was a really small 6 pointer ( ground shrinkage) that i should have passed on since i had plenty of season left. A young man and his nerves lol.
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby wolverinebuckman » Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:00 am

Cool thread Boogie!
Getting my first (and only so far) deer was a really cool experience. But my favorite so far was during my second year of hunting. A friend from church allowed me and my wife to go out to his cabin on 30 Acres for a few days. We had a great time, and I seen quite a few deer in the woods. On the last morning we were there, my wife wanted to go out for the hunt with me, so we set up in a blind that overlooked a tall CRP field. We got to watch a doe and fawn feeding their way through, and just before it was time to wrap up a young buck came walking towards us. If it would have turned to its right, it would have walked right out in front of us at about 40 yards. But instead it turned to its left and headed for a cut, u-shaped path in the CRP. I said to my wife I'm going after him, and I hopped down and took off at a quick pace, looking to cut him off on the other side of the U. I ended up about 20 yards from him, but I came upon Him faster than I expected to and was out of position to draw my bow. We both froze and stared at each other for several seconds. With my muscles cramping, I decided to try to shift quickly and draw my bow... Obviously he wasn't having any of that and darted off into the woods. Never has my heart pounded so hard hunting as when we met eye to eye! Such a memorable experience.
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby muddy » Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:10 am

2006 I was hunting a fence line with light and variable winds. The thermals were keeping my scent mostly where it needed to go and I spotted a big browed buck pop over the hill quite a ways away. I used my grunt tube and "growled" at him super loud, when he started walking my way I crashed the horns together for 5 seconds and by the time I got them hung back up he was running as hard as he could towards me. He hit the timber and started growling back, it was so still out that the sound was echoing thru the timber and I swear the leaves were shaking. Bet he roared a dozen times, it sounded like a dam t-rex coming in. He came by me with his head tipped back and his neck fully stretched out roaring. I Made a poor shot but still found him the next morning. 9 inch brows and crazy mass. Pushed 160 as an 8 point.
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby oldrank » Fri Jul 17, 2020 11:56 am

My Dad n 2 uncle's did a deer camp in northern Michigan when I was 21. The thing I remember the most was the music. We had a small tape player. We had 2 tapes. Black Sabbath Paranoid and Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon. We listened to those two tapes over and over for a week. Still to this day any song off of either tape reminds me of that trip. Great memories.
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1STRANGEWILDERNESS
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby 1STRANGEWILDERNESS » Fri Jul 17, 2020 12:22 pm

Boogieman1 wrote:What’s everyone’s best whitetail memory? Doesn’t have to be kill related. Maybe a first hunt, or sharing time with someone who has since headed to happier hunting grounds. I often get so caught up in the chase that I forget to stop and smell the roses every once an awhile. I take for granted many things. Truth is every single hunt may very well be our last.

My fav whitetail memory took place around the age of 10 with my father. Up to this point i had only watched deer and hunted small game. Me and my dad headed out shortly after daylight to watch a cactus flat. The morning was bitter cold and I still remember freezing to death decked out head to toe in cotton. I was sitting on the ground with my back to a cedar Bush, pops was right beside me with a steaming thermos of coffee sitting on a 5 gallon bucket. He instructed me that this is only the first hunt and we have 3 days so u don’t have to shoot the first deer you see. Shortly after we spot movement headed our way through the cactus flat. Inside of a 100 yards I realized it was a buck and my heart started racing. A one horned yearling spike gave me the fever. I looked at my father for approval and he spotted my excitement and gave me the green light. At about 40 yards with a open site 30-30 I made my move. I must have shot a good 5’ over the deer as cloud of dust and rock exploded in the distance. After watching the young buck run for the hills I looked over at my dad. He took a sip of coffee and said Kilroy you definitely got all of that that one. He started snickering and jabbed me in my ribs. Think he knew I was highly embarrassed. He told me son, we are here to have fun! Did you have fun? Look you win some and you lose some but always remember the reason you are here.

A short time later he said we might need to still go ahead and look around. There’s a good chance you scared that one to death. I remember laughing. Walking the long road back to camp I remember him putting his arm around me and saying.... Good thing I brought some steaks other wise we might starve to death. We both laughed.

You know til this day when I whiff on a good deer, I say Kilroy u got all of that one. Usually brings on a cracked smile and takes the sting out.

Realize this might not sound very loving. It’s hard to put things into words that require facial expressions and knowing one’s personality. But there was nothing mean spirited about it. I love my dad!



Your dad sounds awesome.
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backstraps
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby backstraps » Fri Jul 17, 2020 12:24 pm

Well I thought today after Boogie posted this thread... I have so many stories that are close. near and dear. Between my childhood hunts with my late Dad, my daughters first few kills, to my biggest, my most personal, hunting together with friends... but I have to laugh at how the story I decided to post came together.

This is going to be the story of my daughter's first bow kill

My daughter had finally gotten the strength and had really begun to develope the technique to shoot a compound. She had been practicing since Dec! We would shoot together almost everyday. We had little competitions, games, just any and everything we could do to continue her path of shooting a compound accurately and correctly. All through the spring and summer it was routine for us.

After school most kids her age liked to come home, rest, eat, watch tv, go outside and play, etc My little girl has always been about her Daddy and being his sidekick. Regardless what I was doing, she wanted to be a part of it. Seeing my passion for bowhunting was no different. SHE wanted to bowhunt.

Now to get along with the story...all summer my daughter hounded me to allow her to hunt alone! IN a stand alone! So I devised a plan in late spring, just after green up, to set a short ladder stand with super good natural cover. We got the stand up on one of those early hot summer days with high humidity. She was all about doing "her" stand and making sure it was "good" She was soaked wet with sweat and never complained a bit! This spot is exactly where the deer usually exited the woodlot to cross off the property we were hunting, onto a private parcel where their yard was a buffet!!

Season was getting close and we were on a distant hilltop glassing and area. It was hot outside!! I told her it would be last light before we would see anything but we had to get setup to glass a little early due to our entrance path. We watched several deer that evening, when at last light we seen a buck! He came out just as he was "supposed" to. Basically he didnt let us down (in the eyes of my daughter :lol:) For the next several days leading up to opener, we watched and these deer were on a regular routine.

She had been used to shooting from a treestand in the yard with her harness all summer... I decided to walk her in get her setup, hooked in the harness with CLEAR and specific instructions, that harness doesnt get unhooked for any reason. 75 yards away on the backside of the ridge she was hunting, I locked onto the side of a tree. She had her mothers cell phone. We were going to keep in close communications, and I told her to make every move just like a deer was watching her because they probably would be.

Crunch time came, I sent a text, be ready its close to time. "OKAY" she replied. I had just laid my cell on my lap and it began to ring...
Me: "hey"
Heather: "I shot one"
Me: "WHAT"
Heather: "I just shot a buck"
Me: hahahaha, are you sitting down!?
Heather: Yes!
Me: STAY SEATED, and I laughed at her cracking voice!

She whispered while trying to not hyperventilate what had happened, where she aimed, how he reacted, and where he went. Then she said, "Dad he was at 9 yards! Just like we planned, how cool is that!!" She basically covered any question she knew I was going to ask :lol: :lol:
I laughed so hard and told her that was because her preparations, practice, and hard work!

I made my way to her, stood at the base of her stand as she lowered her bow, unhooked and climbed down. We took a few steps to where she shot him. There was blood on the impact sight... visual blood trail going right back into the woodlot towards bedding. Heather tracked him 39 yards! There laid her very first bow kill. a 7pt, she shot with her own first "real" bow. Low poundage , carbon 600 arrows, tipped with a nice 75gr Muzzy 3 blade fixed head. She got a complete pass thru. Lungs were no longer!!

Heather knew her limitations. She worked her but off and executed her plan perfectly. Man talk about two happy, super stoked, excited bowhunters! I wont reveal her age at the time. to prevent judgement from you Beast!! :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

Still to this day we are so very thankful for all the time we get to hunt together. Even though it isn't as much as either of us would like. Heather is an awesome hunter. She works hard and tries things outside the box. She was super close to an awesome 4.5 year old twice last year. I am hoping we can update this story in the Kill Zone, with a new one this fall....maybe title it Heather's biggest bow kill :D

Thanks for the thread Boogie, nice to read and participate in these fun threads!
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby HuntingParadise » Sat Jul 18, 2020 2:30 am

Not sure if I have one favorite memory. All of mine are more so just small things related to my dad who got me into hunting and now has to deal with my passion for it with how much I annoy him.

The first memory was when I got my first buck. I always felt I was really unlucky when it came to hunting. It took me 6 years to get my first deer which was a small six point. Looking back at it, I was just a really raw hunter. Didnt realize what you had to do to prevent deer from knowing you are in the stand or ground while also realizing what to look and hear for. Countless deer may have walked right by me and I didnt know because I either wasnt paying attention or sleeping or who knows what. After years of my dad moving me around to spots he thought I should see deer, it finally paid off. The six point came in and I shot him dead there. Dad came over at noon and helped me gut it. I was excited because I could go back to camp early and get a head start on all the food and relax. Boy was I mistaken. My dad gave me a look before he left and I knew instantly what it meant. I begrudgingly crawled back up into my stand and hunted the rest of the day but knowing I got a buck already made it go faster.

My second memory would be the deer in my profile pic. I started really getting into hunting after my first buck. I still was very raw but I was putting in way more time in the stand. I planned a hunt with my cousins for the morning but it was close to below 0 temps so I said lets wait for the afternoon as some of them were still young and I didnt want to force them to suffer through a cold morning like that and potentially turn them away from hunting. Long story short is I packed hot and had to take multiple breaks getting to the stand because of how much I was getting heated up. Got into it about 15 minutes later than I would liked but it worked out. I was in my stand no longer than 5 minutes and I thought I heard a grunt behind me. I thought I was just hearing things. I just got here, no chance a buck is close by. Well I heard another, turn around and he is there following a doe. Took the shot, downed him. I texted my dad BBD (Big Buck Down) and he didnt believe me! He came down at night and it ended up being the second largest buck taken on our land at the time which I didnt realize. I thought it was just a shooter. It was cool to see how surprised he was by the size of it.

Last memory is my first bow kill. Shot the buck an hour before light. I was worried it may have been a little low although it was right in line with the heart. Told him to wait and keep hunting until dark. Make his way over and we can track then. Well it just gets dark and I see him walking up. I though I told him to wait until dark to get out? Well he was so excited he got down right away and tried to wait as long as possible. Ended up being an easy track job with a solid 8 that went 50 yards.

I could go on and on about family memories. Blessed to have a close one that hunts. I enjoy taking the hour break and walking to my dads stand at lunch to eat our sandwiches on opening weekend of gun. I enjoy taking my little cousins hunting and sitting in blinds with them letting them take the shot on does or whatever. I enjoy getting a group to work on food plots or other land management tasks. I love the atmosphere on the saturday night of opening weekend at camp when everyone suffers through 12 hours in the cold only to warm up together with some beer and chili. I love hunting and would be able to do it if I was the only one in my family that did but the small stuff with others is what I really enjoy.
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby Kraftd » Sat Jul 18, 2020 3:11 am

Here's a little story I wrote about one of my favorite mornings.

I had every right to roll back over. It had only been a few days since I put my second bow buck of the year in the freezer, and wedged between my wife and one of the kids, the cabin bed made for a pretty cozy place to sleep the dawn away. Even if I wasn’t hunting, it was opening day of the Wisconsin rifle season and I brought the family up to keep dad company and keep the tradition alive. I gingerly lifted myself from between the ladies and quietly shut the door as dad flipped his light on.

As I sat at the table letting the morning take hold, I heard some rustling in the loft. Wrapped up in a blanket like a blond ewok, our five year-old Harper made her way over and plopped into my lap. I took a sip of coffee and watched a smile break across dad’s face while he methodically readied himself for the morning on stand. Harper and I saw grandpa off for the morning sit, then settled back in on the couch to get another hour or so of sleep. As the light slipped through the windows, I kept an eye on my phone, waiting for a call from dad that he needed help dragging, but the woods and the phone were quiet. I knew plenty of folks out hunting, but by 8:30 or so no one had sent any hero shots, or even tales of almosts. The girls were all awake now and milling around, slowly settling in to a cozy morning at the cabin, but I was getting fidgety. I still had a doe tag for my bow, and my older daughter, Isla, seemed willing to spend the afternoon with me in a stand. As they wrapped up breakfast, corned venison hash and eggs, I readied a stand to take back to the edge of the first hemlock island off of the hardwoods for an afternoon sit. When the first Disney movie hit the DVD player, I threw the stand on my back and made my way to the swamp.

The morning air was crisp, but not frozen, and the dampness made for quiet walking. All the years of watching dad and grandpa navigate the swamp had left me genetically inclined to move slowly and observe, especially at the transitions in cover. As I dipped down out of the maples into the short strip of black ash and balsam swamp before the tip of the hemlock island started, my pace slowed to a crawl. I scanned the closest edges first, then let my eyes work their way out across the head of the island. The view of the swamp was like the chaotic wallpaper in your great aunt’s guest bathroom. It was tricky to define it, but when something is out of place, it stands out. In this case it wasn’t a gaudy new tooth brush holder, it was the distinct horizontal back line of a deer, followed quickly by the flick of tines in the brush.

I froze. Sixty yards away, just off the tip of the island, there was a buck. A good buck. Outdoor writers will belabor the notion that time stands still in these situations. That 30 seconds seems like ten minutes or an hour. Whether it’s a stalk on wiley alpine muley, waiting out a flush standing over the point of a bird dog, waiting for a trout to decide if he approves of your drift, or that last ten steps before a whitetail hits your shooting lane, the happenings seem to be recorded in our brains in a way that is different from our normal everyday experiences. I think the layered details make the memory seem more intense, with greater clarity and depth that seems to occupy a space in time that doesn’t fit the reality.

This was one of those moments, and like many of them it was broken by a crash. I knew the buck was upwind, but as I shook from my trance of hyper-focus, I heard a deer crash off to the south through the cedar swamp. I snapped back into assessment mode. That had to have been his doe. Dad mentioned that when he checked a trail cam the afternoon before a good eight and a doe ran by him towards this section of the swamp. They were probably holed up for the last 12 hours. Lockdown, when the bucks seem to vanish into thin air, tucked away in thick corners with does.

When she ran off, the buck was busy raking some alder brush, distracted by his own hubris and need to display his dominance. As it became clear he would not reflexively follow her through the swamp, my brain ran scenarios like a computer, trying to figure out the best way to get him moving towards dad, who was sitting 150 yards away through another swamp drainage on the next island over. He had no idea I was there, watching him, but to break south and try and push him that direction was risky, and would likely mean a running shot for dad through the thick stuff.

Fighting my desire to make something happen, I stayed still and watched the buck. Slowly, he shook his own fog off and I watched as it was evident he started to wonder where his doe had gone. When you’re 35 or so years deep in woods time, it stands to reason you start to develop a sense for your quarry. Holding the trump card of a loud crashing run to loop around him if he changed course, I was pretty certain he was in the process of figuring out that whatever busted his doe out of the swamp was behind him, so perhaps heading west wasn’t the worst choice he could make. I suspect he had already gotten what he needed from her, which likely made his dec
ision all the easier. After what seemed like another five minutes, I watched as he dropped down into the next swamp finger, walking with purpose, but not running like a spooked buck would.

He was on a collision course with dad, and the echo of a rifle shot was inevitable, so I stood, and waited. Time had regained meaning and context, so when three minutes went by, then five minutes, I resigned that the buck disappeared into the swamp like a ghost. Just as I made my first step in what seemed like 30 minutes, moving to hang the stand on my back, dad’s rifle echoed out. I pumped my fist in excitement. Dad still had no idea how this had all played out, and I was already running the story back in my mind so I could give him every little detail. Maybe they would have made their way over to him without my sneak, but more likely they would have remained ghosts in the swamp.

I shot dad a quick text, probably confusing him as to how I could have known he shot, then looped back around to the cabin to grab all of the girls. This was why I had been bringing them along for the gun season for three years. Hunting is family to a lot of us, and I was humbled and grateful for the experiences that were just a short walk through the swamp. Fifteen minutes later the three ladies and I were walking up to dad’s stand.

He gave us the story from his side, the buck had worked the swamp edge all the way around the island to end up 20 yards in front of dad, and I filled him in on the front end of the tale. The girls got to jump in and help grandpa field dress the deer, and I grabbed an antler and dragged the buck to the road.

Image

While I finished up the braised shoulder from the buck I shot the week before for our dinner, I thought about the morning. I have a hard time imagining that we will have a hunt like this anytime soon. Hunting is family and family is hunting to us, but when it all comes together in a way that settles that point, it really is a good reminder of what this all means. The next morning dad and I skinned and quartered his buck out together. Just like the morning before, I caught a smile on dad’s face as we tugged the skin off the buck and started breaking him down.

Image
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UntouchableNess
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby UntouchableNess » Sat Jul 18, 2020 3:24 am

I had a friend back in junior high who's family owned a farm about a mile west of the small town I lived in. We lived right on the west edge of town, so I could walk out the back door, catch the railroad tracks to use the trestle to get across the creek, then follow fence lines through fields to get out to their farm. They had some row crop ground, but also had 90 acres of mature timber. In the main valley coming out of the timber on the south end, they had built a pond. Next to the pond, they also built a log cabin. It had a loft and a wood burning stove. His family were deer hunters. My dad really never got the bug, so this was my exposure to whitetail deer hunting.

Shotgun season in Iowa always kicks off the first Saturday of December. Pretty sure the year was 1975, my friend asked me if I wanted to go with his family and uncles deer hunting. I asked my parents and got the green light. Our plan was that we would camp in the cabin, wake up the next morning to mill around in the timber, hopefully pushing deer to people on/in stands. We went down to the cabin that Friday afternoon, built a fire in the wood burner, cooked something, all I remember is that the cooking oil was old, possibly oxidized/rancid and that was about all one could taste. It was pure heaven though, feeling like pioneers out in a log cabin. We climbed up in the loft to sleep for the night.

The cold woke us up before the sun came up, the fire in the wood burner had died during the night. We peaked out the door of the cabin and what a beautiful sight! It had started to snow in the middle of the night, huge fluffy flakes, 6-8 inches on the ground and still coming down. We dressed and got ready to head out.

All the trees were coated in snow, a true winter wonderland. Since it was still snowing, we knew any tracks that we came across should be fresh. I followed in my friend's footsteps as we wound our way up and down the hills of their timber. He spent a lot of time looking down for tracks, I scanned the trees ahead. The new powder snow muffled our footsteps, so we were able to walk up on three different groups of deer that morning. Seeing those bucks against the snowy backdrop is burned on my mind to this day. It was probably at that moment that I became a deer hunter for life. Our role was to push the deer, so we weren't shooters. We did manage to push a very old buck past one of his uncles, who "Texas heart shot it".
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Boogieman1
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby Boogieman1 » Sat Jul 18, 2020 6:46 am

Those are some great memories guys :clap: Hope more tell there’s cause this kinda stuff is my favorite to read. Always amazed me how 2 guys could hunt together on the same day and take away 2 completely different sets of memories.

For me.... My father is getting on up there in age and I have reached a point in my life where I realize everything he did and one day he won’t be here anymore. My dad had a gift 4 teaching life lessons out of everything. Most I didn’t realize at the time but the older I got the more I understood what he was doing. My pops is the first one I call when I get a buck. I always call him in the evenings to talk, so during deer season when he gets a call around noon. He answers the phone with a WHAT YA GET. He peppers me with questions that remind me of my childhood watching him pull in from a fishing trip. The day I can no longer make that call is gonna be a very bad day for me. So I’m glad I have all the memories.....
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby seazofcheeze » Sat Jul 18, 2020 7:13 am

I was probably 8 or 9 years old, 1991 or 1992. Opening day of Michigan's rifle season, and I wasn't old enough to hunt yet, just tagging along for what was one of my very first deer hunts.

My step dad took me out and we sat next to a huge oak tree just off the corner of a cut cornfield. I sat overlooking a small clearing and the woods about 80 yards away and my step dad sat 180 degrees on the opposite of the tree looking at where the field and timberline met the field edges. He gave me very specific instructions, "If you see a deer, don't move a muscle, and don't say anything." Noted!

We were only there maybe 20 minutes, when what I thought was the world's biggest buck (probably a 2 or 3 year old 8pt) appeared out of the timber I was looking at, 80 yards away. It was a still morning, with temperatures below the freezing point. The buck walked out of the timber and his every breath was visible when it hit the cold morning air. The crunching of the leaves under hoof got louder and louder as the buck closed the distance from 80 yards out, walking at a steady clip directly towards our tree. I remembered my instructions, and I didn't say a word or move a muscle. The buck moved closer and closer, and the crunching leaves got louder and louder. I expected my step dad to shoot at any second. At 5 yards, the buck finally spotted me sitting at the base of the tree, probably trembling at that point, given away by my breath visible in the cold air.

A flash and a snort later, and the buck was bounding back to where he came from. My step dad wheeled around at the sound of the snort, but never got a shot off. He later told me he never realized the buck was coming in from behind us, and he kept scanning the edges of the timber where he thought the buck might pop out. :lol: That day is likely the single event that hooked me on deer hunting for life.
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stash59
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Re: Memory Lane

Unread postby stash59 » Sat Jul 18, 2020 9:25 am

Mine is one the many stories my dad always told. He was hunting northern WI. Came across about 15 sets of deer tracks, moving as a herd. Took him the better part the day to catch up. With about 1/2 hour of shooting light left. He eventually moved in to where he saw 2 bucks. One was a really good 8 point. The other a true monster. Much bigger body than the 8. With a rack that had a larger frame, and, "too many points to count". To quote pops! He took aim at the bruiser buck. Just as the trigger broke, as he squeezed. The big 8 jerked up his head. The 8 was standing forward of the monster buck. The gun went off, and the 8 dropped in it's tracks. Hit in the neck.

Took pops and 3 other men. 2 days to drag that buck out. Half of the last day with the help of an old steel wheeled tractor. Dad always ended that story with. " We were all glad I didn't shoot the big one!"

This story fanned the ember in my DNA. And burst it into flame. With a goal of killing at least 1 monster whitetail buck in my lifetime. Haven't had much luck achieving that goal. Probably should have dreamed of killing 1 every year. Maybe I'd have actually killed a couple after almost 50 years of trying. I owe my hunting passion to my dad and that story!!
Happiness is a large gutpile!!!!!!!


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