This year in the overall deer season brought many new things along with some of the old tried and true habits. Yet the whole 2019 chapter will not be disclosed in this story as I feel it deserves something of its own, though I am happy to give you insights of what is to come and am excited to see what fully transpires. This will never be a season that I hope I never forget ever till the day I die and if I don't do justice or you guys have questions feel free to ask in a PM for my journal story which is a lost and restarted story and restarted story in itself
This will be about rifle (you die hard spot stock/ridge walkers sorry in advance with no disrespect) just as I have for so many years as a little turd in our area it is scout, spot, sit. To be honest I don't know when I started hunting with dad on the land but darn I have lots of memories and it is so many more than killing so that goes in whatever I am writing, you see I hunt the family farm with an greedy gratis tag with certain areas I am not able to hunt for others.
I will be the first to say that I am a horn/meat hunter with most that know me backing that up as thy hit me upside the head with dad and since that little kid pre-teen hunting with his father it is what it is. It taught me a lot with almost all being in respect for the animal that will help feed us, but heck horns are cool some right. In my big to me writing I will go more into this and hopefully more from my past. Now onto the Cliff Notes of the Chapter.
The afternoon of 4:00-4:05ish Nov 22nd a shot rings out of the silence, seeing fawns and a few young does , with one mid mature doe scatter with buck brush in my face. For me it is outing day number 11 in my usual spot for afternoon/evening, 11 days when I should've killed 35min into the first sit on opening Friday. Never pass on first day that your are happy with on the last, sure I looked at horns but looking at body passed at 75yds with a couple hours left. I leave night number one little after sunset after taking a shot an missing on a yote. After what I seen I kept telling my friends and myself it all comes down to the hours in the blind, becomes a form of mental confinement game I guess and I long for you guys that run gun. I get some great views that are my secret but still think of what your run and gun guys see, because I think we can agree on the views.
Out of 11 usable outings in 16 potential days to hunt I as hard as I can and start even questioning my decision as something feels wrong, but I have been with my back against the wall before and been itchy to move or go to to Muzzy. One way or the other I am finding the end of story for my parents to enjoy, kids, friends, you guys, myself to enjoy.
Every sit is almost a chapter, watching sunset against the trees, the number of deer that where within less than 5-25yds, that tubby red squirrel I called Edgar I always watched, the sound of the the distant highway, the sound of the mama cows actually calling in their big calves in to make sure they are safe (Experienced Mama Cows know time is coming), coyote howling on the ridge but can hardly see and another responds and I want to stay but its time to leave. So many sits where it is observing with a head on the swivel, learning patterns I have not seen consistently my whole hunting life in this spot. I actually start wondering if I'm just hunting a memory because the morning of Nov 23 2019 it is my responsibility and privilege to coordinate to move my parents off of the farm they have worked so hard for, that they cultivated memories for me and on that day I will begin to take over responsibility and after winter my wife,2 girls and I will be there and another generation gets a shot. On Nov 22nd it is apparent of 3 things, I get it done on the 22nd, or I am going into the 24th with my 7yr old daughter well covered and start passing the tradition on the exact ground dad taught me, hell he just let me know grab a gun and your blue healer and do what you want. I'm not much for emotion but damn it if it all didn't finally get me. The picture coming will have to do the rest of the story and with all of your respects I want to use most of this in a final writing as I am fighting the emotions again.
At around 4:00-4:05pm Nov 22nd 2019 a shot rings out of nowhere and I see a mature doe run north, a couple fawns scatter. Time to move and I feel something warm in my chest with panic, then as I am squeezing the trigger about to trip he falls over and I know it is over. When this deer is taken to the farmhouse the story is over, its time to close the book on all of this when dad sees this deer beings he is leaving tomorrow morning. By God it took time but none of this is a story, stories end. This is a chapter, a chapter of a 7yr old girl cutting deer, a chapter of 1 last buck with dad still on the farm full time, a chapter of what I get to teach my children in regard to respect for animals that have given their life to feed us and how we give thanks every time we are given the chance to enjoy it.
Sorry for the long post
This will be about rifle (you die hard spot stock/ridge walkers sorry in advance with no disrespect) just as I have for so many years as a little turd in our area it is scout, spot, sit. To be honest I don't know when I started hunting with dad on the land but darn I have lots of memories and it is so many more than killing so that goes in whatever I am writing, you see I hunt the family farm with an greedy gratis tag with certain areas I am not able to hunt for others.
I will be the first to say that I am a horn/meat hunter with most that know me backing that up as thy hit me upside the head with dad and since that little kid pre-teen hunting with his father it is what it is. It taught me a lot with almost all being in respect for the animal that will help feed us, but heck horns are cool some right. In my big to me writing I will go more into this and hopefully more from my past. Now onto the Cliff Notes of the Chapter.
The afternoon of 4:00-4:05ish Nov 22nd a shot rings out of the silence, seeing fawns and a few young does , with one mid mature doe scatter with buck brush in my face. For me it is outing day number 11 in my usual spot for afternoon/evening, 11 days when I should've killed 35min into the first sit on opening Friday. Never pass on first day that your are happy with on the last, sure I looked at horns but looking at body passed at 75yds with a couple hours left. I leave night number one little after sunset after taking a shot an missing on a yote. After what I seen I kept telling my friends and myself it all comes down to the hours in the blind, becomes a form of mental confinement game I guess and I long for you guys that run gun. I get some great views that are my secret but still think of what your run and gun guys see, because I think we can agree on the views.
Out of 11 usable outings in 16 potential days to hunt I as hard as I can and start even questioning my decision as something feels wrong, but I have been with my back against the wall before and been itchy to move or go to to Muzzy. One way or the other I am finding the end of story for my parents to enjoy, kids, friends, you guys, myself to enjoy.
Every sit is almost a chapter, watching sunset against the trees, the number of deer that where within less than 5-25yds, that tubby red squirrel I called Edgar I always watched, the sound of the the distant highway, the sound of the mama cows actually calling in their big calves in to make sure they are safe (Experienced Mama Cows know time is coming), coyote howling on the ridge but can hardly see and another responds and I want to stay but its time to leave. So many sits where it is observing with a head on the swivel, learning patterns I have not seen consistently my whole hunting life in this spot. I actually start wondering if I'm just hunting a memory because the morning of Nov 23 2019 it is my responsibility and privilege to coordinate to move my parents off of the farm they have worked so hard for, that they cultivated memories for me and on that day I will begin to take over responsibility and after winter my wife,2 girls and I will be there and another generation gets a shot. On Nov 22nd it is apparent of 3 things, I get it done on the 22nd, or I am going into the 24th with my 7yr old daughter well covered and start passing the tradition on the exact ground dad taught me, hell he just let me know grab a gun and your blue healer and do what you want. I'm not much for emotion but damn it if it all didn't finally get me. The picture coming will have to do the rest of the story and with all of your respects I want to use most of this in a final writing as I am fighting the emotions again.
At around 4:00-4:05pm Nov 22nd 2019 a shot rings out of nowhere and I see a mature doe run north, a couple fawns scatter. Time to move and I feel something warm in my chest with panic, then as I am squeezing the trigger about to trip he falls over and I know it is over. When this deer is taken to the farmhouse the story is over, its time to close the book on all of this when dad sees this deer beings he is leaving tomorrow morning. By God it took time but none of this is a story, stories end. This is a chapter, a chapter of a 7yr old girl cutting deer, a chapter of 1 last buck with dad still on the farm full time, a chapter of what I get to teach my children in regard to respect for animals that have given their life to feed us and how we give thanks every time we are given the chance to enjoy it.
Sorry for the long post
