Post by mrode363 on Feb 6, 2016 1:33:46 GMT
It was a cold and windy November morning. The sun had yet to rise and I was surrounded by darkness. This morning was no ordinary November morning. Why you ask? Only because it was the opening day of the first deer season in which I could harvest a deer! That’s plenty of reason to call it an extraordinary morning I think.
About the only thing I could distinguish around me was my dad, who sat less than 5 feet from me. We sat quietly, peering at the dark hill that sat in front of us, trying to pick up any kind of motion or noise. The sun crept up the blue sky, slowly illuminating our surroundings. I began the morning with a feeling inside of me that said my dad and I were both going to harvest a deer, but that thought began to slowly slip away with the more time that elapsed.
And that was when it happened… I caught a movement on the hill about 300 yards in front of us and quickly signaled my findings to my dad. He peered into his riflescope and his mouth dropped a little bit. He turned to me and said that there were three deer on the hill, 2 bucks and a doe. My heart began to pump faster and faster. Maybe my morning’s expectations would come true after all. What happened next is something I will never forget for the rest of my life.
My dad began to hand his rifle over to me (I had a shotgun and couldn’t reach nearly half that distance). He said to take his rifle and take a shot at one of the bucks on the hill. I was almost frozen, not from the cold, but from shock. My dad was offering me his own rifle to shoot a buck that had my dad’s jaw dropping. Without a second thought, I told that I couldn’t possibly take the shot. After all, it was his rifle, he should take the shot right… My dad asked again to make sure I was thinking straight. Once again, I denied his incredible offer without a second thought. He finally believed what I was saying and turned around.
He positioned himself for a shot as I braced myself for the gun to sound off. I couldn’t help but shed a tear or two as he lined up his shot. My dad has taught me everything I know about hunting and was now offering me his own rifle to harvest my first deer. To this day, I can’t believe he even offered me the shot. Most hunters wait their entire lives for an opportunity like this. My dad was obviously upset that he had to take the shot and felt as if he was being selfish by taking the shot, instead of me, for his memory book. Little did he know at the time that this moment would remain near the top of any experience that I’ve ever been a part of.
I could hardly focus as my dad pulled the trigger. The buck dropped in a heartbeat and a huge smile spread across my face. My dad looked to me and his sad expression soon became one of happiness.
What better way to thank my dad for all his teaching then to be a witness of one of the most memorable hunting moments of his life. I would put a bet out that this hunting experience ranks near the top of my dad’s list. The story is far from over though. You do know you have to clean out a deer to complete the harvest of the deer right? Well, here is a grand finale to complete the harvesting a deer that not many can relate to.
After a few minutes had passed, my dad and I marched up the hill to take a look at this buck up close. The buck seemed to grow with every step we took. By the time we reached the buck now nicknamed “Beast”, I understood why my dad’s mouth had dropped open. This buck is arguably one of the biggest bucks I have ever seen in my life to this very day. Now, why the nickname “Beast”? Lets just say that it’s very hard to take down a deer that weighed in at over 250 pounds and had a rack on his head fit to kill whatever walked in his path.
My dad told me to walk to the other side of the deer to watch down the opposite side of the hill for any deer trying to scamper through. As I marveled at the buck’s size, I proceeded to get a little bit too close to the buck’s personal space. The buck had one last breath of life and tried to “impale” me! Okay, I might have overdramatized, but I don’t think anyone would want to take that buck on. By the time I stopped running, I was halfway down that hill I was supposed to watch over. (If you ever want to make my dad laugh, bring up this part of the story to him)
When my heart returned to a normal pace, I walked back up the hill to where the buck lay. We proceeded to gut out the deer and get him tagged up for the ride home. To fast forward a bit, the buck was sent to a taxidermy and now looms large in our basement living room.
Every time I walk outside my bedroom, I look to “Beast” and am reminded of one of the greatest hunting adventures that I will ever embark upon. I stand there hoping that my dad is as proud of his harvest as I am. I know that the buck is registered and credited to my father, but to this day, I have a part of me that says “Beast” was my first ever harvest. Even if he is not, I will forever remember that cold and windy November morning in which I was able to thank my father for his years of teaching.
He may have been upset at the time, but soon was able to celebrate with me in another amazing hunting story. And what might that story be? That story became a memory just a short week later. But that is a story for another day…
Until the next memory is revealed, I wish you luck in your hunt to be somebody.
About the only thing I could distinguish around me was my dad, who sat less than 5 feet from me. We sat quietly, peering at the dark hill that sat in front of us, trying to pick up any kind of motion or noise. The sun crept up the blue sky, slowly illuminating our surroundings. I began the morning with a feeling inside of me that said my dad and I were both going to harvest a deer, but that thought began to slowly slip away with the more time that elapsed.
And that was when it happened… I caught a movement on the hill about 300 yards in front of us and quickly signaled my findings to my dad. He peered into his riflescope and his mouth dropped a little bit. He turned to me and said that there were three deer on the hill, 2 bucks and a doe. My heart began to pump faster and faster. Maybe my morning’s expectations would come true after all. What happened next is something I will never forget for the rest of my life.
My dad began to hand his rifle over to me (I had a shotgun and couldn’t reach nearly half that distance). He said to take his rifle and take a shot at one of the bucks on the hill. I was almost frozen, not from the cold, but from shock. My dad was offering me his own rifle to shoot a buck that had my dad’s jaw dropping. Without a second thought, I told that I couldn’t possibly take the shot. After all, it was his rifle, he should take the shot right… My dad asked again to make sure I was thinking straight. Once again, I denied his incredible offer without a second thought. He finally believed what I was saying and turned around.
He positioned himself for a shot as I braced myself for the gun to sound off. I couldn’t help but shed a tear or two as he lined up his shot. My dad has taught me everything I know about hunting and was now offering me his own rifle to harvest my first deer. To this day, I can’t believe he even offered me the shot. Most hunters wait their entire lives for an opportunity like this. My dad was obviously upset that he had to take the shot and felt as if he was being selfish by taking the shot, instead of me, for his memory book. Little did he know at the time that this moment would remain near the top of any experience that I’ve ever been a part of.
I could hardly focus as my dad pulled the trigger. The buck dropped in a heartbeat and a huge smile spread across my face. My dad looked to me and his sad expression soon became one of happiness.
What better way to thank my dad for all his teaching then to be a witness of one of the most memorable hunting moments of his life. I would put a bet out that this hunting experience ranks near the top of my dad’s list. The story is far from over though. You do know you have to clean out a deer to complete the harvest of the deer right? Well, here is a grand finale to complete the harvesting a deer that not many can relate to.
After a few minutes had passed, my dad and I marched up the hill to take a look at this buck up close. The buck seemed to grow with every step we took. By the time we reached the buck now nicknamed “Beast”, I understood why my dad’s mouth had dropped open. This buck is arguably one of the biggest bucks I have ever seen in my life to this very day. Now, why the nickname “Beast”? Lets just say that it’s very hard to take down a deer that weighed in at over 250 pounds and had a rack on his head fit to kill whatever walked in his path.
My dad told me to walk to the other side of the deer to watch down the opposite side of the hill for any deer trying to scamper through. As I marveled at the buck’s size, I proceeded to get a little bit too close to the buck’s personal space. The buck had one last breath of life and tried to “impale” me! Okay, I might have overdramatized, but I don’t think anyone would want to take that buck on. By the time I stopped running, I was halfway down that hill I was supposed to watch over. (If you ever want to make my dad laugh, bring up this part of the story to him)
When my heart returned to a normal pace, I walked back up the hill to where the buck lay. We proceeded to gut out the deer and get him tagged up for the ride home. To fast forward a bit, the buck was sent to a taxidermy and now looms large in our basement living room.
Every time I walk outside my bedroom, I look to “Beast” and am reminded of one of the greatest hunting adventures that I will ever embark upon. I stand there hoping that my dad is as proud of his harvest as I am. I know that the buck is registered and credited to my father, but to this day, I have a part of me that says “Beast” was my first ever harvest. Even if he is not, I will forever remember that cold and windy November morning in which I was able to thank my father for his years of teaching.
He may have been upset at the time, but soon was able to celebrate with me in another amazing hunting story. And what might that story be? That story became a memory just a short week later. But that is a story for another day…
Until the next memory is revealed, I wish you luck in your hunt to be somebody.