My first deer kill story..... Let's hear yours

I think i was 11 years old. My dad wouldn't let me carry a gun yet. I was leaning against a telephone pole with my dad's friend and fell asleep. He nudges me and pointed to a deer standing out about 50 yards away and handed me his 25-06. I shot and it jumped up in the air and fell over dead. I remember being so excited. We went over to the deer and couldn't find a bullet hole in it. Then I remember him saying good shot!. I don't think he ever found a bullet hole and I seriously think I missed it and it had a heart attack or something and died.

Came around a curve on 77 doing 50ish or so and a buck jumped across.

Rolled him and came to a stop.

Looking at damage and he popped up all wobbly.

Didn't have a gun in the car. Two hard hits with an 18in crescent wrench and he was done.

Felt bad.

9 yrs old in 1987 hunting with my dad at his bosses place off Angola Road. 600 acres that was well managed along with all the neighboring properties. Cold morning in December. Had to watch 2 8 pts and a 6 pt walk by since they were 2.5-3.5 yr old deer that weren't allowed to be shot. About 2 hrs into hunt my dad woke me up from the box stand floor when a couple does came out. Shot one at about 80 yds with .243 that had been given to me by my grandfather. Made a double lung shot and she ran about 50 yds. Died in the bottom of a creek. Got covered in blood.

Later that morning I was riding a little honda 70 3 wheeler grinning from ear to ear. Wasn't paying attention and slammed it into the bosses front bumper. Just a few scratches, so everyone laughed it off.

mid 90s, hunting with my dad in a open tower type blind in NW LA. 2 does and their yearlings come out on the road through the pines we're hunting at about 150 yards. Dad tells me to shoot the biggest one. 3 shots later they're all still standing there Dad makes me take the gun down, gives me some words of wisdom, and reminds me that I only have one bullet left. Last shot connects and she made it about 10-20 yards before she fell.

1981. I was 14. Dad and my brother and I had just recently started hunting. Got in a club that ran dogs. Dad and I are about 100 yards apart and dogs are coming our way. Hearts pumping. None of us had ever killed. We all have shot guns. Four point runs up on Dad at about 40 yards and stops broadside. He shoots abs deer heads my way. He yells hear he comes. Now my heart is pounding. He comes by hauling arse and I knocked him down. I yelled at Dad that he’s trying to get up. He yells shoot him again. Dragging out the deer and here come the dogs again. He drops a young doe. We had a blast that day. That night Dad had a heart attack. One of the club members is driving us to the ER on back country roads going 80 mph. Get to the ER and Dad slumped over in my arms. They were able to save him and we hunted many more years together. Lost him a few years ago

I was 9 or 10 hunting at our lease in the pine thickets of northern Morehouse Parish. I had fired down on a few deer before, with no such luck. Back then we had like 1 doe day per year and the bucks didn't live very long. If one made it to the mythical "forked horn" status it was newsworthy. One day we are sitting in the truck waiting on it to quit raining so they could turn loose the Walker hounds. I asked my dad if I could walk out to a stand that was down a woods road near where we were parked. He agreed so I walked down there and climbed up in the stand. As soon as it quit raining I looked up and see a deer arse out in front of me. I watched it for a while, when it finally raised his head and I saw the damndest thing. Horns. 3 of them. I raised my .44 Magnum rifle up, shot, and watched it drop like a sack of shite. I couldn't believe it. Then it started kicking. So I shot. Then it kicked some more and I shot some more, until I had shot all 5 of my bullets. No sooner had the smoke cleared than I see my daddy busting arse down the woods road coming toward me. He was pretty perturbed and asked what in the world I was shooting at. I told him that deer laying over there and pointed to it. He walked over, looked at it and said "Great, you shot a big doe and it's not doe day". My heart dropped. Then I saw that he was grinning and bailed out of the stand and ran up to my prized 3pt. After celebrating, we examined the results of my 5 shots. My first shot hit the thing right upside the nose, which we later found out broke the deer's neck. A .44 Mag from 50 yards don't play. The other 4 shots didn't hit a damn thing lol. Good times.

My first deer I actually killed my self and not one I missed, but my dad went along with that I killed it, was this one.
This is back when I was 16 and when we ran dogs all the time, which doesn’t happen often these days.
This buck was with a doe and my cousin killed the doe basically right after the race started.
The buck basically ran in a circle for 2 hours, it would get close to someone and turn around and go the other way.
Around 9am someone on the radio said that they were going to drive their jeep into the woods to try and push it out.
915am they said it was headed towards dad and I. I get out of the truck, since it was raining, and started walking down the road.
Out of the corner of my eye I see movement and me and the damn buck about ran into one another. I turned and shot from my hip and dropped him 5 feet from me. Pretty sure I shite my pants. This deer is on the wall now and I’ve killed bigger since then.

Thanksgiving week I was 9 years old with my dad on my grandmother's land in Boligee, AL. I was so pumped because my dad took me out of school the Friday before Thanksgiving and I got to go hunting with him for 9 straight days. We did that from every year from 4th grade all the way through undergrad, best times of my life.
Anyway, we have my dad's .270, and I had only shot a .22 and a .410 at that point. A 4 point with 1 point broken off comes out, and he let me shoot at about 125 yards. I missed it ran and stopped at 175 yards, he told me I had one more shot, I just barely caught him in the spine and it splintered and went through a lung. I can't wait to do the same with my little boys when they are old enough. What was awesome to me about that too, is my grandmother's place is pretty big, and my mom and I both killed our first deer at the same spot 30 years apart.

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My first big buck kill story..... Let's hear yours

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My first big buck is surreal to this day....

One of my dad's friends owned about a 100 acre "island" surrounded by marsh near the mouth of a SELA River. They called it hog island, b/c they mostly killed hogs. They had a deer rule, bucks only.

11/25/2003 - I was 15 - Tuesday before Thanksgiving

Dad's friends son, in his upper twenties asks if I want to go hunt the island with him in the morning, after some begging my dad let me skip school and go.

We meet up at the boat house and hop in a little 12' flat boat and motor about 1 mile down the river in the morning dark. I'm thinking it's cold as eskimo pussy, but it was probably not too bad, just poor gear and young and dumb at the time.

When we motor in to the "island" we get our chest waders on and head in about 1/2 mile through the marsh.

He puts me in a ladder stand on the first corner over looking the marsh and a couple smaller islands to our east/north east. He walked down a few hundred yds to another ladder in a similar set up just further down.

Well, I think around 7am a doe pops out about 200 yds away in the marsh in front of a small island and starts heading my way. I'm bino her and her back is just caked in mud. I know a buck is on her. So I keep my binos plastered on the little opening where she came out, about the time she makes it in front my stand (about 45 yds out a defined trail ran from that little island through the marsh in front my ladder, and then proceeded down past where my buddy was sitting).

So about the time she's right in front of me, I see a rack come through the brush head down on the little island and hit the marsh trail. As soon as he clears the brush his head shoots up and he starts grunting and stomping and trying to wind that doe. I can see his breath coming out his mouth/nose.

He immediately starts hauling arse down the trail following right in her path, he's stomping to all hell and grunting the whole way. I barely had time to drop the binos pick up the 7mm08 I had and get ready. He crossed right in her footsteps, and I squeezed off. I had no clue how big he was, just knew he was a nice buck. Right after I shot he kind of staggered and took a step, I quickly tried to reload for a follow up shot. I didn't look away from him and was shaking so I jammed the bolt a little. I couldn't get it chambered, so I looked down for a split second to clear the jam and right when I looked back up he dropped in his tracks.

My buddy radioed me, "what'd you shoot?" ME " I don't know, he's big" My buddy "you son of a bitch! I'm coming down"

I climb down and make my way through the marsh to the buck, as I walk up I start counting points and my legs start trembling and basically gave out once I put my hands on him. I was shaking for a solid 5 minutes. My adrenalin was going insane.

My buddy showed up and was in shock. Nobody had ever killed anything in this area that even came close. He said the muddy doe was right in front his stand when he heard me shoot.

He made me drag the buck through the marsh back to the boat by myself . I threw up once. Combo of nerves, adrenalin and effort dragging him. He weighed 220 on the rack

Main frame 10 pt with two tiny little kickers that I claim a 12 pt. Can hang a ring on both.