My First Deer

Following our family tradition, we made our annual trip back to the “government road” to hunt the first day of deer season in the big woods. As my dad was taking my brother with him for the first time, I had the pleasure of hunting with my Uncle Rob.

I can still remember the morning like it was yesterday. The air was cool and crisp. The warm sun shining through the trees was melting what little snow had accumulated over the previous weekend. We sat on the ridge of one of our favorite big woods locations. The morning started off slow with no sign of deer.

Despite the sun shining on a generally average late November morning, around 10 AM I grew cold and bored as any 12 year old would, and decided to take off my boots to put some foot warmers in (something I am sure previous generations may not approve of).

Immediately Uncle Rob said, “Deer right behind you.” ~ perfect timing ~ I slowly grabbed my rifle (a Remington Model 70 chambered in .257 Roberts passed down by my late grandfather to my mother and then to me) and turned around. Thankfully, I had been leaning on an uprooted tree base, the trunk of which we had been using as a makeshift bench rest while viewing the ridge below us where we hoped the deer might come from.

Moving as slowly as a 12 year old full of blood pumping adrenaline could, I mounted my rifle on the base of the tree. Through the scope, I saw a large doe in a perfect window broadside at just 60 yards. I centered the crosshairs and tried to remember the slow breathing my dad taught me at the shooting range, however all of that seems to go out the window when you have a deer staring at you.

Uncle Rob began to whisper, “Whenever you’re… ‘POW!’…ready” My trigger finger clearly beat him to the punch.

Immediately I knew I made a great shot and we shared a hug that I still remember like it was yesterday. He asked how I knew I made a good shot, but it was just a gut feeling that came over me. Soon after we followed up the shot and came up upon my first deer – a beautiful mature Pennsylvania mountain doe.

My dad and brother made their way over from a neighboring ridge, the “1st Finger” as we call it, and we all shared a lunch recounting how the morning went down. Later that day, Uncle Rob and I were in the same spot, where he was able to connect with a nice 6 point.

It is amazing how I can remember each and every detail of that day. From what I was wearing to the way the fresh mountain air smelled to the feeling that came over me as I was able to share the experience of my first deer with my Uncle. It is a memory that will truly last a lifetime.