Your First Deer!

JWFilips

Well-Known Member
I guess I started reminiscing tonight about the first deer I ever got as a lad!
It was back in 1966 after 3 years of hunting. I got it with the Marlin 336 35 Remington that my Dad bought me in 1965 (buy scrimping and saving)
Thought I would share this story and would like to hear of the others on out forum about their "first"!

The First Deer I ever shot was when I was 13 years old. I had been hunting since I was 11 at a place called Dutch Mountain. Most shots in this place were under 40 yards. About mid morning on the first day of Buck Season I noticed a Spike buck about 20 yards from me in a heavy laurel ticket. It must have taken me about 15 minutes to be sure it was a legal buck ( of that time of 4 inch spikes). the Deer was 3/4 to me with his left side showing....however I could not see the heart-lung area at all because of the ticket! Being an excited young hunter I just guessed based on his head position! So I carefully aimed at the place I thought it should be and fired my 35 Remington 200 grain bullet at that point! The thicket exploded and my deer started running down the mountain! Since I had a 336 Marlin that My Dad bought me 2 years prior I do believe I emptied my rifle at the running deer but I know I had no real aim point... Just fired away! And he disappeared over the crest of the plateau I was on!

My brother Bernie yelled down to me from the next crest above me to ask if I got him & I responded " I Do Not Know" so he told me to stay put and he came down to me.
When he got to me we retraced the area of the shot and there was hair and blood! He being an experienced hunter picked up the blood trail and we followed it down the mountain. At one point we saw the deer but it got up and hobbled away. He said to me.... we will wait and he lit up a cigarette ( back then all my brothers smoked) He said if we wait until he smoked his cigarette I would have my deer!....longest few minutes of my life but he was right we only walked a bout 20 yards and there was my first Buck!

While I was learning the fine art of Gutting a deer we saw the entrance wound on the left front quarter The bullet had key-holed after taking out a large laurel branch....missed the heart but clipped the lungs then went almost to the right side of the deer but spun back hit the liver and ended up in the left hind leg! talk about a strange trajectory! I still have that recoverd 200 grain 35 Rem bullet taken from the left rear leg of the deer I shot in the left front section between the heart & lungs on a quartering shot! Strange but true!
 

Brad

Benevolent Overlord and site owner
Staff member
Mine was with a 58 cal Zouave in 1983. A decent sized Dow was dumb enough to walk by. Load was 60 gr of Ffg Goex and a pair of patched .570 round ball. That rifled musket would place two patched balls over a single charge within 2” of each other out to 50 yards every time.
Didn’t field dress it as I had no clue what the hell I was doing. I was just a 17 year old kid who was new to muzzleloader, deer hunting, and the rest.
 

RBHarter

West Central AR
It was across the saddle at the top of Washington canyon above the Reese river south of Austin Nv about 125 ft above the top of the tree line . Dad and I had walked in about a mile from the truck . Kind of over and back on the ridge top .
There was a loafing herd that had come up from water and were just milling around to browse and nap in the morning sun about 550-625 yd across what amounts to open flat snow white granite flagstone with a few boulders 3' or so . We dropped under off side and worked down to a place we could get back over hopefully unseen or scented into a clump of 3-4 ft boulders .......3 I think .
Dad had 25-06' , 700 BDL with a target shoe 4.5# trigger and a barrel that tapered 24" to .780 at the muzzle . Ebony tips , caps , white lines on a nice walnut Monte Carlo stock , 2" leather sling .
117 gr Partition over 54 gr of H4831 WWII surplus for a balmy 3100 FPS (according to the books anyway) . The shot had a little wind left to right across the 325 yd there just wasn't a reasonable way to close . Dad instructed 12.4 yr old me to breath deeply , hold right on the front edge of the shoulder and the fat bottom edge of the duplex on top of his shoulder . 3 deep breaths and squeeze letting the last one out ....... Right a 12 yr old at 8700 ft in 33° is supposed to breath deeply , keep the forend on the sling instead of the granite , about as smooth 3-4 grit fresh resurfaced asphalt , and squeeze looking at a 32" spread 4×4 .
When I did finally squeeze the trigger some eternal 30-45 seconds later , Dad swore it was a week , the buck dropped with such force there was a fresh point tip chip . There was a wind shear or possibly no wind beyond just a few yd from the shot . It hit about 1/3 deep in the neck 4" in front of the shoulder . Major neck damage with a direct spine hit . Any wonder why he dropped like a rock ?

Glory days .
 

Ian

Notorious member
Mine was when I was 12 or 13, not sure really. Cruising around my Stepdad's ranch at 3 mph in his LTD spotting through the brush. He stopped and pointed through the thicket directly to our left. I looked and looked and couldn't see anything but grey brush. Finally I got my Dad's .270 up across the car and poked out the driver's window and had a look. Saw a tuft of hair at about 35 yards but couldn't make out what part or even which end of the deer it was. Finally the doe shifted a little for a better look at us and I got oriented. Later it occurred to me that I could have seen a lot better if the scope hadn't been set on nine power. I whispered "I have a shot", he said "well take it!" So I chambered a round and let her have it through both front shoulders. God what a mess. He watched silently while I tried to look like I knew how to field dress her and after about five minutes of letting me struggle he asked if I needed any help, I gave in and said yes and he gave me one of the best lessons I ever had. He was a great man and I miss him dearly. My Dad gave me the rifle when I got home, it was his pride and joy but he only hunted with it a few times over the years and never got a shot. He said it's yours now, you "blooded" it. I still have that rifle and always will. Pretty sure I still have the bruise on my shoulder too.
 

fiver

Well-Known Member
my first actual got to put a tag on it deer.
nobody ever believes this, but here's the story.
I was 12 and dad got me a deer tag, but the only rifle we had was a win 92 in 357 Mag.
since we were both hunting and it was his rifle he was using it.
Me, him, my uncle Arnold [the one with the glass eye] and my Dad's Best friend Ron went hunting out in the west desert on the edge of the Toole army depot property.

we get up there and split up Uncle heading off one way Ron another and me and dad head up and around a big shale slide above a bunch of thick dead brush.
we get up and over a ridge and I tell dad I can see some deer moving down below the brush so we start moving along the brush behind them tossing rocks down below us trying to drive them up the other ridge into the open.
they ain't having any of it so we keep moving and throwing rocks and they keep moving along the edge of the brush heading back into the canyon we had started in.
Dad figured if nothing else we could push them over to one of the others so we keep it up until we end up back int he draw they are in and we are down in a dry creek bed.

sure enough they go up the draw and I hear my uncles 0-6 boom then the 30 carbine Ron has pop,pop,pop,pop,,, boom.
we can see the little buck cut across the ridge kind of running one way and getting shot at then back again about 250yds away.
dad was like you think I should shoot.
I was like you can't do any worse [shrug]
he climbs up on a big log over the creek bed and takes a shot just over it's back and it freezes.
I call out the spot and he shoot again hitting it in the femur on the off side.
he goes to rack in another round and the case had split and left the front portion in the chamber so he was dead in the water.
I hear another Boom from the 0-6 look up the hill and the Buck is running down hill and heads straight for us.
Dad says I don't know what's gonna happen get over to the side and turns the gun around like a baseball bat.
the deer comes right at us and jumps the log and my old man hits it square in the throat as it jumps the log.
the deer lands on my foot and stumbles as he knocks me down, pushing me against the creek bank.
I jump up kind of pissed off and grab a rock about 5"s in diameter and start chasing the deer down the creek bed. [losing ground]
he turned around a slight corner and I heave that rock as hard as I can, hitting him right behind the ear knocking him down, I catch up and jump on it's shoulder and pin the deer to the ground with all my weight.
Dad is about 5 steps behind me and comes up with his knife and cuts it's throat while I hang on.

a few minutes later the others make their way down and see the deer laying there and want to know how we got it without firing any more shots..
my uncle looks at us like we are lying and finally says well you got it you tag it.
 

Idaholewis

Active Member
I was 8 years old when i got My very first Deer, it was a Little Spike Buck (Blacktail) Growing up on the Wa Coast all we had was Blacktail Deer. I hunted with an Old Pre 64 Winchester Model 94 .30-30, I shot a Black Bear that same Year. I wish i stil had that little .30-30 today, I hunted with it til i was a Young Teenager, Thinking i had to have something BIGGER/Better, I gave up on the .30-30 (Even Though it NEVER let me down) And bought a Win Mod 70 in 7 Rem Mag. I came across a Picture Awhile back of me with a Deer and that little Model 94 .30-30 Across it’s Side, Good memories!

Me and my Grandpa, This might have been my 2nd Deer? You only got 1 tag per Calendar Year on the Wa Coast, And My first 2 Deer were Both Spikes, They looked like Twins. I had the little Horns on Plaques for Years n Years :)
u9Q67Brl.jpg


I was getting Old here :) Another Spike! My Old Win 94 .30-30
YyLRJCal.jpg
 

Winelover

North Central Arkansas
My first deer was a button buck, taken with archery equipment, out of tree stand. Deer was coming head on and I aimed between, the the shoulder blades. Dropped on the spot but had to get down and finish it off............it was only paralyzed.

First firearm deer was a doe, taken with a .50 caliber round ball (Tennessee Mountain Long Rifle) from the same tree stand. This property was in Michigan's thumb, a shotgun/muzzle loader only zone. There have been too many to count, since then.

Unlike most, there were no firearms in our house, growing up. My father didn't hunt or fish. I had no mentor. What I know I learned by myself............lots of trial and error.
 

Winelover

North Central Arkansas
First centerfire deer (doe) was taken, on the same property, with my Redhawk. Michigan had just opened up the shotgun only zone to handguns.
Load was RCBS 44- 240 SWC GC over 22 grains of 2400, CCI Magnum primer.................. shot DA at 20 yards, siting on the ground,

I am anything but conventional. :eek:
 

S Mac

Sept. 10, 2021 Steve left us. You are missed.
It's funny how we can recall all these hunts so vividly, some things in the past are forgotten. I too didn't grow up hunting, was in my mid twenties when I started. My first harvest was a big doe, still have the Polaroid. Learned in the school of hard knocks, loving every minute.
 

fiver

Well-Known Member
yeah.
my dad didn't really know anything about hunting or fishing but he took us.
his Mom wouldn't allow a gun in the house, and his dad went fishing maybe once every 5 years.

I only remember him shooting a deer one other time after that, and it ended up being two deer because another one come down the trail while we were cleaning the first one and he was by the rifle at the time.
that time was with a Marlin 336 in 375 win.
I talked him out of that rifle before he could get rid of it a couple years later and still have it.

the funny thing is both of those deer had to walk right in front of the truck to get down in the gully, but we had to walk all the way down into that gully to shoot them because that was how it's done.
I watched the second one stop and sniff around the front of the truck [looking for road salt?] before heading down to where we were.
but we all figured he wouldn't come all the way down with the smell of blood and guts.
nope, he just walked out and around the corner and stood there looking at us like ''what you guys doin?
 

CZ93X62

Official forum enigma
I grew up hunting. My first deer came at age 13, in October 1968. I used a Winchester M94 borrowed from one of my Dad's friends, Jiggs Alexander. We had gotten to the hunt site just before dawn in Jiggs' early-50s Chevy pickup, and it was kinda cold for mid-October. The premise for the trip was to scout around for mountain quail, which my Dad was a lot more passionate about hunting for than deer; quail season opened the following weekend. We had driven east down Plunge Creek Road from then-called SR 30 several miles, stopping at side canyons and running quail calls to prospect for birds. By 9:30 A.M. on this fine Saturday morning we had found a bunch of quail coveys with the calls, and felt good about next weekend's opener.

Mind you, we were a week deep into deer season at this time. All three of us had deer tags, as well. It was my 2nd season of deer hunting, CA wouldn't issue deer tags to anyone under 12 years old. CA did issue hunting licenses at age 10, though--and I was becoming very proficient with a shotgun once I graduated to the 12 gauge Win 1200 at Christmas 1967. My hit percentage on doves went up markedly during the prior month. I had huge plans for the upcoming quail and chukar seasons.

We had turned about a few minutes earlier, and were headed back to the State highway. At the Fredalba Creek crossing--about 1-1/2 miles east of SR 30--we stopped to stretch our legs and finish off the Thermos coffee and hot chocolate. "Al, get your rifle out, just in case we see something", Jiggs said. "This canyon holds a lot of deer." As always Jiggs' 30/30 had 5 rounds in the magazine. His work as a citrus grove owner in the mountain foothills meant frequent encounters with black bears or 2-legged fruit thieves, car strippers, or bandit marijuana growers. Even in The Good Old Days, San Bernardino and its rural outskirts were shady as could be.

We had been sipping our drinks for about 5 minutes when I heard something crashing through the buckbrush and manzanita on the west canyon wall. It was a muley buck, righteous 4 x 4 too. He was wasting no time headed uphill, about 80 yards away and opening that distance quickly. I jacked a round into the chamber, and he turned a bit right to "contour" up the canyon wall. With Dad's advice ringing in my head--"Shoot through the deer to its far front shoulder"--I swung a bit ahead of the fleeing critter and KEEPSWINGINGKEEPSWINGINGKEEPSWINGING......I didn't hear the shot, but felt the recoil and heard the THWOCK when the bullet struck flesh. The deer collapsed, kicked a few times, and went still. My First Deer.

I started toward it, Jiggs said "HOLD!" gently. "Keep it covered, let it bleed out before you approach. If it gets up, hit it again." We waited a few minutes, no motion, then slowly made our way to the downed buck. He was done. "Hell of a nice deer, Al! Hell of a shot, too" Jiggs said. My Dad was quiet, but smiling broadly and wiped away a tear or two. First deer--largest I have ever shot (145# on the hook)--and also the longest shot at about 125 yards. Young eyes and open irons by a shotgunner who could hit moving things a bit. A treasured memory.
 
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blackthorn

Active Member
I shot my first Deer about 2 months before my 13th birthday. I was out on my Dad’s farm, with my little dog, looking for jack rabbits. The only gun I had was an old Winchester “rabbit” rifle. Single shot, extractor nonfunctional, stock broken through the wrist and held together with stove-pipe wire. The action on that rifle slid into the (separate piece) trigger, which was suspended on a pin through the stock (forend) and due to the wire “fix”, it had a hair trigger. One loaded the gun but did not pull back the cocking piece until you were ready to fire. Now, you very seldom got a second shot with that set-up so, I learned to be a pretty good shot. So, there is the background. The dog and I were out in a bare field, on top of a little hill when she started to growl and look down hill toward the road. A big Mule buck jumped the fence and came uphill toward me. I quick-scooped out a hole in the snowbank and pushed the little dog in, sitting in front of the hole to keep her there. Now, Dad had told me never to use anything more powerful that a short in that gun because he felt it was wore out and even shorts were hard to dig out with my jackknife sometimes. I had a few shiny silver, copper-washed Super-X longs in my pocket and I swapped the short for one of those. Having accomplished that, I sat and watched that big buck walk up to within 25 or 30 feet of where I was crouched. The breeze was form him to me. The buck stopped, and turned his head away from me. I took a careful bead on the back of his head right at the junction of his head and the base of his ear. I fired and down he went. So here I was out in the open field (but close to the bush) with an illegal Deer. I managed to drag him under the fence into the bushes and went home to get Dad. That Super
 
F

freebullet

Guest
First was a fat doe with a smokepole. 50 yd shot, drt. I remember it was minus 5, I forgot my knife & had to dress her with a folding fillet knife I found in the far reaches of the hunting pack. A definite learning experience.
 

creosote

Well-Known Member
Blackthorn,
you can't end it like that.
Not even a word from our sponsors? :confused:
My best friend an I brought home a pheasant when we were about 10, (out of season) We got it with our pellet guns. His dad was pissed!!!
I didn't know any difference. My dad didn't hunt or fish.

The two of us got our hunting license at the same time. I was eleven and a half. Minimum age for Utah.
Didn't have anyone to go deer hunting with till I was 22. Got my first, second and third with a bow. (Kalifornia)
While skinning one in Utah (late 80's)
I noticed scares under the hide. It ended up being mountain lion claw marks and teeth. That deer had an exciting life.
 

CWLONGSHOT

Well-Known Member
My first was also with a bow. IIRC my first half a doz where all with a bow. We have just started a archery season a few years before here in CT. We hunted our place in upstate NY in the Catskills. Transitioned from a Recurve to dads Allen Compound. Missed his at 10yds and schlocked him at 55/60! I got deer in Pennsylvania NY and CT that year I turned 14.

Good memories!!
I dont have pics on this phone of those above.

This was my first with my New Martin Bow I bought myself @ 17.

2CBD3491-0047-42DD-B2CE-64BDE755BCCB.jpeg
 

Ole_270

Well-Known Member
Deer were pretty scarce yet when I was young, think 1964 was the first year they held a season in Kansas. I remember I was in Jr High when I saw my first one. No one in the family was a hunter since my Maternal Grandfather quit bird hunting years before that. I ended up taking my first in my mid 20s, a busted up forky on a neighbors new alfalfa patch. Caught him facing me as he was coming through the hedgerow. The ol 270 about flipped him over backwards. A couple years later I started on a run of at least one a year that still continues today. Lots of those years saw me butchering 3-4 of them with the doe tags.
 

blackthorn

Active Member
"Blackthorn,
you can't end it like that.
Not even a word from our sponsors? :confused:"

When I post, I usually write in a word document and copy/post to the thread. Yesterday, I got in a hurry cause the wife was waiting to go out for lunch and I missed the last few words. SO---That Super-X came out in three pieces and I got a stiff lecture from Dad.

So, that was the end of the original post. Mother was up most of that night canning Deer meat. Dad took the skin, guts and head (which I really wanted) down to the river and dumped them through the ice. We did not have much but we ate well.
 

L Ross

Well-Known Member
My first will forever be a tainted memory. I was down in a crick bottom with my Dad on opening day of 1966 toting a Climax 20 ga. single shot with Federal paper cased slugs. A buck came slipping along the other side of the crick and stopped. Dad told me to take the shot and I did and the buck ran off unphased. We crossed the crick, really the upper end of a small low land river we had been trapping rats, coon, and mink on for a month, by crawling across a downed tree. No sign of a hit, not blood, no hair, the buck did not appear to be hit. We followed the tracks in the mud and soft maple leaves for a couple of hundred yards and Dad finally declared what I had been dreading to hear, "I guess you missed." When we got back to the stand Dad sat there looking around carefully and said, "Look at that elm right in front of you." There was the neatest half moon cut on the bark about 8 ft. in front of my muzzle. Dad opined as that must have caused the miss.
That was on Saturday. On Thanksgiving morning Dad and I were at the same spot when what looked like the same buck came down to the crick and actually knelt to drink. I didn't have a clear shot from my angle so my Dad raised his 1148 20 ga. and fired. The buck took off stumbled and fell after a short dash. We crawled across that downed tree again and found the buck with a steaming 20 ga. slug hole in that wet grey hair right behind the left front leg. Also we found the bottom jaw of the buck had been hit and broken and was hanging down. Dad said to me,"Looks like you hit him after all." The deer was kneeling trying to drink because his lower jaw was all busted up and I felt like crying.
Back in those days venison was a very important part of out larder, and even though most folks we knew took a deer out of season with a .22 whenever they could, my Dad forbade that. So we had to make do with the two we had, (Dad got an eight pointer that season), for the year for our family of 5. Dad made about a buck eighty an hour back then working at a kraut plant. Well that poor buck turned out to be older than the hills, rounded roman nose, white and grey muzzle, teeth worn to the gum line, and big bases on the funny rounded 3 point, (eastern count), antlers. Ma tried cooking my buck and it stunk up the kitchen and the beagle mix hounds wouldn't eat it. Between being old and feverish it was non edible. Saddest hunting season for me of my life.
 

Kevin Stenberg

Well-Known Member
For the first 7 years. I never saw a deer. In 1977 i was discharged from the A.F. early enough to get home for the opener. I was sitting on a stand site my mentor had located and used previously. I was using my grandfathers 94 in 30/30. Which i still have, and still use.
The buck was one of those deer that appear from no where. At 15 yards there he was. He was broadside and at the shot it dropped. Being new i didn't put a second shell in the chamber because the deer was down. Seconds later it got up turned around and stumbled back in the direction it had come from. I was totally at a loss. I remember thinking. WHAT DO I DO NOW!!!
Its a good thing it only went about 20 yards and it went down for good. I probably wouldn't have found it if it had gone much further. Being totally at a loss as to what to do.
Then i had to figure out how to gut it.