The First Time

I opened the truck door and slid out of the passenger's seat. I made sure the point of the gun was leading the way. I just prayed the gun barrel did not bang up against anything as I was getting out. I knew we had to be quiet by the way my father was talking, in hushed tones, as we were riding in the truck. I never understood the reasoning behind that certain procedure, but I knew what it meant.. BE VERY QUIET!

I started to close the door, doing it very slowly, inching the door closer and closer to being closed, until I felt the door and the wall of the truck meet. I gave it a slight push, and CLICK!!!! It was the loudest sound I think I have ever heard. I was sure it resonated throughout the entire forest and no creature within 2 miles was not running for their lives! I looked at Dad and he was already loading his gun. Maybe it wasn't that loud after all. I was trying very hard to do everything right. I was fifteen years old and this was the first hunt that I would actually get to carry a rifle.

I had my dad's .308 semi automatic Remington. It had a scope for accuracy and the gun felt heavy in my hands. I had shot this gun many times in my short life, but only at the targets behind our house, and never at anything living. I started to load it. First, I'd take the clip, with four shells in it, and slide it part way into the gun. Next, I'd slide the chamber open and slip a final, fifth bullet into the breach, let the chamber close by just letting go, making sure it locks. Finally, push the clip all the way in until it "clicks". Always recheck the safety on a gun. Mine was on.

I looked up and Dad was standing there, waiting for me.

He said "get your light out, but keep it pointed in front of your feet, don't step on any branches. Follow me."

All of this was conveyed in a whisper and I just nodded and turned on my flashlight. It was still very dark outside, and the ground was crunchy from the cool night air, but there was no snow yet in mid-October. Dad started walking up the trail, and I was right behind him.

This was not my first hunt, not by a long shot. This was only my first hunt holding a gun, or at least, this big of a gun. I had been going to hunting camp for at least 5 years, and hunting squirrels in the woods around my house, with a .22 caliber rifle for the past couple of years. But I had never shot an animal as large as a deer. I've never been with anyone, my father, or other relatives, when they have actually killed a whitetail deer. I had seen many deer while at camp, and have been there right afterwards, while the cleaning and gutting was going on, but I had never actually seen one killed.

I was not that concerned anyway because I was sure I was not going to see a thing on this, the opening day of the season. At that time, in the Adirondacks, in the early 80's, you might see a deer one time in ten. You may not see a buck the entire season. If you were lucky enough, or good enough, to see a buck then you may only get a good shot one time in two. My father had killed a buck every season for the past ten years, and he was a very good hunter. He knew the land, and he knew the deer. Everyone at camp knew he was good too. How else would I have known about the 10 in a row? Dad's friend Gale, who had been hunting with dad since they were in their teens, had only killed two bucks in his life at that point..... CRACK!

Jesus, I had stepped on a branch. It was loud. Dad turned around and looked at me. I couldn't see his eyes but I thought I could see his head swivel back and forth a little bit as if to say "What did I say?!"

He turned back around and kept walking. I just kept following, vowing to pay closer attention to what was in front of me. We walked down a little slope and crossed the two logs laying side by side, providing a small foot bridge to get over the creek. The rush of the water was much louder than that branch I broke. I bet the deer didn't even hear me.

We went back up the rise, and as it crested I could see the fur trees down below, in a small gully. The path continued down through the trees, and I knew, from experience went back up hill again, bearing right, towards what was called Burnt Hill. Dad turned around and pointed, with his light, to the ground. There was a runway right in front of him. The deer used this runway to go from the hills up ahead, and on the right, down to the swamps to our left. Dad knew his stuff, as he had scouted this whole area before hunting season. He had placed a tree stand at the base of Burnt Hill, and he was going to sit me somewhere near this runway. The little hill we were standing on was called The Sand Hill.

"Go right in here". He pointed his light off to the right of the path. "Find a tree to sit against, and look down, in front of you, and a little left. If they come they'll come through there". He whispered quietly. We were standing very close to one another.

I shook my head in agreement, and started to walk off the path. After a few steps I looked back over my left shoulder and saw dad's light heading down the path, towards the fur trees. I am feeling a little bit anxious, but my main concern is finding a tree that I can sit against and still see down the hill. I got to the top of the small hill, and I can see a rock face to my right, with the hill rolling down and to the left, into the fur trees and ending in sort of bog.

I find a nice, big, birch tree to lean against, I turn off my flashlight and sit down on the ground.

Check the safety again. Good, it's still on.

It is dark, and really quiet. It's not very cold, probably 45 degrees, and I'm wearing a heavy wool coat. The sun has not risen, but it's pending arrival is just changing the night sky in the east to that little bit lighter shade of night sky that comes right before you're sure it's daylight. Daylight is coming, and I'm glad because I can't see anything but shadows down the hill, to the left.

Check the safety again. Really, I don't think I'm going to see any deer today, runway or not. The only thing I have to worry about is making sure I do not accidentally shoot myself. Check the safety again. It's still on. Obsessive even at 15.

This tree is really comfortable. I have a Hot Seat that I'm sitting on. For those unaware, a Hot Seat is a Styrofoam filled bean bag that hooks to your pants and holds nicely a hunter's, or ice fisherman's, butt. It also holds nicely the heat from your butt, thereby keeping your underside warm and dry. I was warm, and I was comfortable, and I was feeling tired. I normally don't get up at 4:45 am, and I wanted to close my eyes....

SNAP!

I opened my eyes at the sound. It was very loud, and was made by something heavy. Oh shit! It was light. Not bright, ten o'clock in the morning bright, but bright enough to see everything around me. I had fallen asleep!

I looked left, towards where the sound had come from. There, walking through the fur trees, was a buck! I saw the antlers first! It's head was down a little, and it looked like it was sniffing as it walked. I needed to get my gun up. The deer, at that point, walked close enough to the hill I was on that I could no longer see him because I was sitting on the ground!!!!

If I stand up I'll get to see him! He's going to get away! I start to get up, and right then, at that moment, the deer crested the hill. I froze. The deer stopped and put his nose to the ground. He had not heard me and all of my goings on, he took a step, right behind a tree.

I took this as my opportunity to get my gun up and the scope on him. I could see his rear end, and I could see the antlers. Everything else was behind the half fallen tree. I took the safety off and waited. All I needed to do was have him take..one..more..step.

He stepped out from behind the tree and I knew I had to shoot him. I was shaking so badly that the cross hairs on the scope kept moving all around. I knew I needed to shoot him behind his front shoulder, to be able to hit the heart and lungs, and hopefully kill him quickly. The cross hairs kept moving, my aim was not steady. Finally, as the cross hairs swayed near his front shoulder, I squeezed the trigger.

POW!!!!

The blast was loud, really loud. It echoed through the trees. It hurt my ears. Oddly, I don't remember feeling the kick of the gun. I had always felt it at the target range, but do not remember it at all while shooting a deer. There was some smoke, and as I blinked to see where the deer was I could see something moving, on the ground, right where the deer had been standing. He was down.

I got up quickly, making sure the safety was on again. Holy shit! I had just shot a deer. He was still moving and I walked over to him. I took the safety off and put the barrel of the gun under his jaw. BLAM! He was dead.

I put the safety on again, and set the gun against a tree. I got my knife out, and was trying to figure out how to gut this thing when I heard something coming through the trees!! It sounded just like another deer! I grabbed the gun and stood perfectly still, waiting. This can't be happening. Jesus! Another one? No freaking way. Something was coming, I could hear it. There's a glimpse of something, walking through the trees.. oh shit. Oh, "Hey Dad!"

"did you get him?!"
"yes."
"what is it?"
"I'm not sure."
"Does it have horns????"
" Yes, it has horns." I could gather where my father's thinking was taking him.
"It's an eight point". I said. It looked like a big deer to me. wow.

"Where were you sitting?" He asked
"right there" I said, pointing at the tree I was sleeping against.
"where??" He asked with some disbelief.
"Right THERE. Dad, right there, against that birch tree". I pointed to the tree again.
"That close?" It was true. The shot this mighty hunter had made was all of about 30 feet.

"Good job, Eric".

Thankfully, dad showed me how to clean the deer. We then slung our rifles and proceeded, together, to drag this deer towards the truck. I was not acting excited. I was not whooping and hollering. I was not talking quickly, in a hurried voice. I was in awe.

We got to the truck, and Gale and his son, David, were the first one's there. They had been hunting near us, and Gale immediately assumed my dad had shot it. I was just sitting there, not saying anything. Dad said, "I didn't get it". I just sat there. David said "nice buck". Gale said "what do you mean you didn't get it?"

It was coming, and I have never felt better in my entire life.

"Eric shot him. One shot, right through the shoulder." There was pride in his voice, and I could see on David and Gale's faces the expressions of bewilderment.

That still may be the greatest day of my life, other than my wedding day and the days my two kids were born. I actually made my dad proud and could see it in his face and eyes.

We unloaded our guns, and as I opened the door to get in, I reached down one more time. Yup, the safety is still on.