One and Done?

It took me eleven seasons, hunting Minnesota and Wisconsin during the archery seasons and gun seasons to make it into the "Ten Pointer Club." Jill decided to try deer hunting this year--went hunting twice, saw two mountain lions and the first shot she has ever taken at big game, dropped this guy. 

Do you remember your first deer? I do. I had been hunting since I was twelve. I watched my brother shoot deer--our neighbors...friends. I didn't shoot my first deer until I was 17 and when it finally happened, it was more of a relief than any kind of sense of accomplishment.

It was almost like, "Finally! The monkey is off my back..." Now I can be one of  'those' guys on the plus side of the fence who can share stories of success rather than the same 'ole defeat of getting blanked year after year. 

I remember walking up on the deer after shooting it. I had made a good shot and the deer was dead before I got to it. I wasn't really sad but I know I felt a little bit of the weight one feels or should feel, when taking a deer's life. It's a heavy kind of feeling and a few of my friends actually admitted to shedding a tear or two after their first kill. 

A lot of what goes into that feeling of relief and sense of accomplishment, is just the lack of opportunities we had as kids, to shoot deer. Don't get me wrong. We had a lot of deer in Minnesota but we also had a lot of competition for those deer on public lands. We also had to try to get it done during a nine-day season with school and work getting in the way. I remember spending entire gun seasons not even seeing a deer, which can get incredibly frustrating and defeating. Hunting in the West is different and if you have a good 'in' on a ranch, that definitely helps. 

I have a really good relationship with a landowner west of Great Falls who let's me hunt his property. Most of the time, I take out kids or folks who have never shot a deer to this spot because it doesn't get a lot of pressure and we usually get our opportunities. And we usually see some good deer but I'd rather save these spots and these deer for the rookies and new-comers rather than the trophy hunters including myself. The landowner appreciates that as well. He's all about getting kids and other people into the outdoors that normally wouldn't get the chance to have this kind of experience or feel the sense of accomplishment it truly is to take a buck like this.

Jill, Patrick and I left the truck yesterday just as the sun was coming up. We had parked in the bottom of a drainage. The plan was to hike up a few hundred yards to an outcropping of rocks that looked over a coulee that fed down to the main drainage. We didn't get very far before spotting a couple deer opposite the outcropping where we were headed, at the top of the ridge above us. 

"There! Look." I said as I brought my binoculars up. "Oh man, it's a doe and a good buck. Really good buck. We gotta go." Plan B went into effect. 

The three of us dropped into a small coulee that fed down from where we spotted the deer. It gave us just enough cover to get down-wind of the deer and out of sight until we were in range of getting a shot. As we got to the top, I peaked over and spotted the buck chasing the doe only about 100 yards away. We all got down and crawled about 40 yards to where Jill could get up on her knees, put the .270 Ruger Hawkeye on the sticks and get a shot. 

When you look at the photo, it's pretty obvious we were in some wide-open country. If we can see the deer at 50 or 60 yards, they can see us. Things have to happen pretty damn quick and even though this is private land, these whitetails aren't like the mule deer. When they see or sense something not quite right, they get the hell out of Dodge and when they do, they don't stop for anything until they are well out of sight. 

I wanted to tell Jill to aim a little low on the deer. We were close and the bullet is still rising at that distance. Plus, I had sited the gun in for 200 yards. Even at 100 yards, the bullet would hit a little high.

We watched the deer as it circled a couple times, chasing the doe. One second it was facing away, head down, nose curled up sniffing the doe and the next; spinning, looking directly at us--head up and neck extended. It was impressive with its thick neck all rutted up, nostrils flared, feet together almost like a bull ready to charge. I was asking Jill if she had him in the scope. She did but the wind was blowing 30 mph, which is incredibly difficult to hold steady in. 

"Put the crosshairs at the base of the neck..." I was trying to coach her. 

The deer moved again. Now it was broadside. 

"There. Perfect. You on him?" I whispered.

I was fully expecting Jill to tell me she couldn't do it, which would have been fine. She's never been in this situation. She's never shot at or killed anything like a deer or anything bigger than a duck. You never know fully, how you're going to feel or react at that moment. The wind was blowing. The buck was looking at us. There were a couple of deer off to the side that looked like they may have busted us as well. It all goes so fast and before I could get a sense for what she was thinking or where she was now, on the deer...Boom! The .270 rang out and the deer dropped. 

In a perfect world, that would be the end of it. We would all walk up on the deer. It would be dead. Jill would sit in the truck while I dressed it out because it is kind of gross. We would load it up and high-five our way to a breakfast diner. But that's not what happened because those perfect shots, where the deer drops and doesn't move, aren't always the reality. 

The shot was a little high. The deer dropped but tried to get back up. Jill watched as it scooted across the ground and caught its antlers in a barbed wire fence. It struggled and we quickly finished it off with a second shot in the neck. That's never a good scene for anyone--even the grizzled veteran let alone a rookie hunter. And if it doesn't bother you, there might be some question of whether or not you have what it takes to wield the kind of responsibility to kill something like a deer or an elk or anything else we choose to hunt. 

I'm incredible proud of Jill for putting the sneak on this deer and successfully taking a good, ethical shot but I also know how difficult it was for her to watch the deer struggle. I know she's proud that she has contributed to putting food on the table and for the accomplishment but I also know it wasn't easy for her and she might not ever do it again. It was her idea to get the tag and to hunt. It very well could be the first and last deer she shoots and that's ok. Would it be different if the deer hadn't struggled? Maybe. But if you're going to hunt, you have to be ok with the reality that sometimes it doesn't work out that way. It might be your first deer. It might be your tenth but eventually, you will see the, 'not-so-clean' or perfect shot and that will have an impact on you. That feeling is a good thing and hopefully it teaches us all to know our limits and to do everything we can to take good shots so we mitigate an animal's suffering. 

I share this story because I want to promote and idea of what hunting is to me. I'm not a blood thirsty predator that pumps his fists every time an animal hits the ground or the water. It's why I really appreciate some hunting shows that show that side of hunting and can't stand the bro's out there that think it's all about the kill and having to build a separate addition on the house for all the trophies. The guys and gals I hunt with celebrate with a hand shake or a hug and even a tear from time to time. Then we all participate in the process of helping each other pack out our game as Mitch Kowalski did for me when I shot my elk this year and I did for him and his wife a few days later. I actually enjoy that part of the process as much as I do pulling the trigger because I know how important that meat is  and that's when I feel the most connected to the hunting community. 

Jill decided to do something incredibly far outside of who she is because she knew that if she were successful, she would be helping out a friend--a single mother who likes venison but doesn't have a way to get it. So that's what I'm really proud of her for--not so much that she was able to pull the trigger, but that she did so, participating in this act of building community through hunting. She put someone else's needs first, knowing it was going to be difficult but knowing she would be helping out a friend. 

Jill made it into the "Ten-Pointer Club" this year, which is impressive. The more impressive thing to me however, is her participation in a bigger and more important community of people helping each other out through hunting. Maybe next year she'll put a pack frame on and haul 80 lbs. of elk shoulder out of the mountains....well, maybe 40.

Keep 'em where they live...