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Discussion Starter #1 (Edited)
Early in my hunting career I would hunt with my brother Bob. He introduced me to hunting at the early age of 9. Bob learned everything he knew about whitetail deer through trial and error since no one else in the family hunted. He apparently enjoyed hunting more than going to school so he dropped out to become a full time hunter or so the plan was. Bob was the first man in my community to harvest a whitetail buck. He evidently spotted it while skipping school and went home to swipe my grandpa’s old 32 Winchester special. The young buck had so many holes in him it looked like a sieve. I’ll never forget the crowd of people that gathered at our house to admire that tiny little 8 pointer. To a 9 year old boy he was as big as a moose. I believe that single episode is what hooked me onto hunting. From then on my brother was Daniel Boone.

He would religiously take me hunting every weekend or I would pester him until he would. My parents would always allow me take off the first week of gun season to hunt with Bob. Over the years Bob and I would share our hunting experiences and continue to learn. The deer population seem to explode in the late 1970’s. Bag limits were liberal. Many deer fell to Bob and I. As the years progressed I became more interested in pursuing larger deer and Bob seemed content to shoot the first legal buck.

Several years passed and Bob took me to a spot called Gum Springs to hunt. Gum Springs has one of the largest tracts of road less land in northern W.VA. As always, Bob would give me instruction on exactly what to do and not to do. He would always end the conversation by saying “ whatever you do boooooy don’t shoot no d*** doe”; back then it was bucks only. Bob sent me down a logging road and told me where to set. I hadn’t gone far when I heard deer running in the brush beside me. I looked over and saw three deer busting through the laurel to my left. I thought that one of the deer had antlers so I kicked off the safety and followed them through the brush the best I could. They disappeared into a laurel choked streambed and reappeared about 150 yards from my position up on the opposite ridge. I again thought one of the deer had a rack so I was planning on shooting it when I heard my brother Bob screaming from the hill behind me. He was saying “ d*** BOY WHATEVER YOU DO DON’T SHOOT THOSE DEER, THEIR ALL DOE “. He must have jumped the deer and watched me aiming at them and was trying to keep me from killing a doe illegally. He repeated this statement several times at the top of his voice just to be sure I heard it. I wasn’t convinced that they were all doe

The one deer that I thought had antlers was barely visible in the laurel. I thought I could make out two little tiny points sticking up. I decided to take the chance of being scalded from Bob. The rifle cracked and the deer dropped dead in it’s tracks. Bob came storming off the hill saying something like “ d*** booooy I told you not to be shoot-n no d*** doe”. I responded by saying I think it has a rack. He assured me that he had the perfect view and that I just killed a doe. Doubt and fear began to run through my young brain. I didn’t want to disappoint my brother or break any laws. So I was afraid!! We approached the deer and sure enough it was lying out on the hillside and no rack was visible. My heart sank and my ears hurt because Bob kept saying over and over “ see booooy I told you that was a d*** doe-why’d you shoot it?”. I apologized and said I thought it was a buck. I could have sworn it was a buck. The closer we got to the deer I could tell that its’ head was back under its’ chest and it was in a small sinkhole. I reached down a pulled the deer backwards by its hind feet to get it out of the sinkhole. Then all I could hear was “ **** BOY THAT’S THE BIGGEST BUCK I EVER SAW!”. He must have said it three or four times. I think I made him proud that day.:)
 

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Sh** that was a great story! I really did enjoy it and I can almost feel, in the back of my knees now, what you likely felt back then. Thanks for sharing that! :D:D
 

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May the Lord strike me down if I'm lyin', but that's just about the exact story of how I got my first deer! It was in northern Michigan, on opening day, which is always November 15th. We were hunting a military proving ground where the "clear cuts" were made by bomb blasts!

Well, dad had sat me up on a trail, along the edge of a cedar swamp. We saw tracks comin' n' goin', so we figured a deer might happen by at some point. I didn't see much and was gettin' pretty cold when dad came to get me, around 10 AM. Dad said on the way back to camp we would walk through a section of thick brush n' see if we could kick something up. The plan was for me to walk down about 50 yards and then we'd walk parallel through the brush. Only problem was, just as I was about to turn and head off the dirt road, up ahead of me, right where I'd been sitting most of the morning, I saw movement. I brought the gun up as a deer stepped onto the road. He turned my way, with a look like, "Uh oh...I screwed up this time!" I saw a glint of light above his ears, so I brought the crosshairs down and touched one off.

My poor old dad, witnessing this from maybe 100 yards away from the deer, could NOT see any antlers and later told me he was yelling, "DON'T SHOOT IT'S A D..." BANG! He came walking up to me real quick like, asking me, "Son, are you SURE that was a buck?" I was sure as could be when I'd squeezed the trigger, but just like you, all kinds of doubt came flooding into my brain! And I'll be doggone, but when we got up to the deer, it had fallen in such a way that the antlers were half-buried and there was a tense moment there before dad moved him around and we saw it was a really old 1X3 buck. His teeth were about gone and his whole muzzle was gray. Dad was sure proud and I got to see my first deer gutted out.

I was 13 years old and I still got a Polaroid of me in a blue n' gray plaid hunting coat, smilin' like a fool. :D
 

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When I killed my first California deer it was a fork with a spike on one side. When I walked up on it the fork was buried under some loose dirt an twigs and the spike was on the up side of the head. I nearly had a heart attack and thought I had misjudged the animal. It's events like these though that make certain hunts stand out in our minds for years after.
 

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All my rifle kills have serious ground shrinkage. Archery kills are always just what I thought they were. can't explain it. Just the facts. I loved the story.
 

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I used to call those little bucks, "box bucks" and that was all I ever took until I moved to Ideeeeeeho.

Did see a few none box bucks while hunting Washington, but never got a tag on one.

And oh yes, they were called box bucks because the racks were all so small they would ALL fit in one medium sized cardboard box. :D

Keep em coming!

Crusty Deary Ol'Coot
 

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Boonerman, you are quite the story teller, enjoyed it very much.
 

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Boonerman! Fantastic telling of a truly great experience. Made me feel like I was there with ya'll. A great story teller like yourself is a joy to behold. I hope you get to tell your stories to many the young person. They'll feel it just like I did ... and I'm 64.
 

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Discussion Starter #15
I believe the rack located on the shelf to the right is the buck in question?? It has been so long ago one forgets, so many memories.
 

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first buck

Boonerman, Ha! About laughed my butt off! I see that your deer hunting stories match many of my fishing stories ! Ha! That was great.key to any good story is telling it like you want it told.
 
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