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- Aug 6, 2014
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Been up all night, the worst part about working midnight shift is trying to sleep like a normal person on your days off. Was reading and got to thinking about my first buck. Thought it might be interesting to share our stories?
I didnt start hunting until I was 16. No one in my immediate family hunted. Two men from church who knew I wanted to learn started taking me out. Killed a few does with them, but was largely unsuccessful hunting eastern Virginia's Game Management areas. At that time, I got into muzzleloading. The areas I hunted were predominantly shotgun or muzzleloader only. My shotgun didnt do anything impressive with slugs, and while I have killed a doe with buckshot I was never a fan of it. I hunted for several years with a .54 T/C White Mountain Carbine. In 1996 I bought a Knight LK-93 that would be my constant complain for more than 15 years. I have killed nearly every "good" buck I have with that rifle. It was a stainless .50 caliber, with a camo thumbhole stock, and a Nikon Monarch 4X40 scope on it. I started shooting the Hornady SST bullet with 2 pyrodex pellets before finally landing on a Barnes Expander and Tripple 7 FFG. That gun Is still serving well, set up for my girls. It wears a straight stock now as one of my girls is left handed. It has most recently been sighted in with a 250 grain Hornady XTP over 80 grains of Tripple 7 FFG. It shoots this load remarkably well and the girls don't complain about the recoil. That rifle started my obsession with Knight rifles and lead me to the old MK-85's I enjoy finding and hunting with.
Sorry, got away from hunting. My first buck came nearly years later. I had accepted a job in Northern Vorginia, eventually moving to the North Western part of the state and commuting to work. Again, I continued trying but was largely unsuccessful hunting the Game Areas and National Forest of Western VA. A coworker and friend had gained permission to hunt a few hundred acres awaiting development on the edge of a major population area. While scouting the new land we found a fence line separating a large field from a cedar thicket. The thicket bordered an old farm pond and was surrounded by hardwoods. We located a large cedar tree in a small opening on the fence line overlooking the pond. We trimmed out a spot in the tree and put a ladder stand up. At that time I didnt archery hunt and waited eagerly for the opening day of Virginia's early muzzleloader season. I took leave for the two week season. With my schedule, that left me nearly three weeks to hunt. Opening day finally came and I was in my ladder stand well before sun up. It was easy to get in and out of, only being about 40 yards from the old driveway. Early season in Virginia can be sweltering hot, freezing, or anything in between. As I recall, it was cold and I was bundled up in winter clothes. My stand faced directly down the fence line towards the thicket. The pond was on my right and the field on my left. The thick cedars on the fence line prevented me from seeing or shooting into most of the field. A deer trail ran the fence line in front of me and past a large bush about 35 yards in front of me. As the sun began to rise I found myself looking at a rock I hadn't noticed before on the trail behind the bush. As the woods and the little thicket started filling with more light, the rock suddenly moved. I was shocked, the rock was an 8 point buck. He stood behind the bush for what felt like an eternity. I had bought the cheapest stand on sale and it had no gun rest. I remember thinking the rifle weighed a ton and was slightly relieved when the buck turned to walk away from me into the thicket. As he was walking away, I made a single grunt on the call I was wearing around my neck. Much to my surprise the buck turned and started to walk towards me. As he was walking around the bush I rose the riffle and tried to calm my nerves. As soon as he cleared the bush I impatiently fired. He was facing me almost head on when I fired aiming into his chest below the neck. My load back then was the Hornady 250 grain SST and two 50 grain pellets. I sat in stunned silence for a minute before deciding I should reload. I knew I should wait, but after about 10 minutes I couldn't stand it anymore. I climbed down and walked to the bush finding no signs of a hit, no blood or hair. I walked a few more yards still finding nothing. My hunting partner called and said he was coming to help. It seemed like forever waiting for him, but in reality was less than 15 minutes. During the wait doubt started to set in. Was I shaking so hard I missed, did my impatientance in taking a nearly head on shot simply wound? When my partner arrived we decided to walk the deer path against the fence and look for sign. As I walked looking for blood, I nearly tripped over the buck. He was dead on the fence line about 60 yards from the shot. We have ever found a trace of blood during the track. I was elated and relieved. We were both relatively inexperienced hunters trying to figure things out. We dressed the buck and got him to the driveway. We hadn't quite perfected our field dressing skills yet and I'm sure we looked like we killed a small family. In retrospect that buck wasn't much to brag about, an average 8 point with a rack just wider than his ears, but I sent pictures to everyone I knew. The skull mount is still hangs in my basement.
The "pond stand" accounted for more deer than I can recall over the years. I miss the place. I pass it nearly every day at work. It is now a high density housing development. A park surrounds the pond. I always think of the 8 pointer and other notable bucks I killed there when I pass. While I have a few places to hunt now, I still miss that place and the others we lost over the years to development. The Game Department encouraged taking does and in that area you could buy as many antlerless tags as you wanted. We killed a ton of deer in those years. We fed our families, and nearly anyone else who asked. Most importantly, we gained experience and learned quickly. I'm grateful we have been so blessed and thank the Lord daily.
I didnt start hunting until I was 16. No one in my immediate family hunted. Two men from church who knew I wanted to learn started taking me out. Killed a few does with them, but was largely unsuccessful hunting eastern Virginia's Game Management areas. At that time, I got into muzzleloading. The areas I hunted were predominantly shotgun or muzzleloader only. My shotgun didnt do anything impressive with slugs, and while I have killed a doe with buckshot I was never a fan of it. I hunted for several years with a .54 T/C White Mountain Carbine. In 1996 I bought a Knight LK-93 that would be my constant complain for more than 15 years. I have killed nearly every "good" buck I have with that rifle. It was a stainless .50 caliber, with a camo thumbhole stock, and a Nikon Monarch 4X40 scope on it. I started shooting the Hornady SST bullet with 2 pyrodex pellets before finally landing on a Barnes Expander and Tripple 7 FFG. That gun Is still serving well, set up for my girls. It wears a straight stock now as one of my girls is left handed. It has most recently been sighted in with a 250 grain Hornady XTP over 80 grains of Tripple 7 FFG. It shoots this load remarkably well and the girls don't complain about the recoil. That rifle started my obsession with Knight rifles and lead me to the old MK-85's I enjoy finding and hunting with.
Sorry, got away from hunting. My first buck came nearly years later. I had accepted a job in Northern Vorginia, eventually moving to the North Western part of the state and commuting to work. Again, I continued trying but was largely unsuccessful hunting the Game Areas and National Forest of Western VA. A coworker and friend had gained permission to hunt a few hundred acres awaiting development on the edge of a major population area. While scouting the new land we found a fence line separating a large field from a cedar thicket. The thicket bordered an old farm pond and was surrounded by hardwoods. We located a large cedar tree in a small opening on the fence line overlooking the pond. We trimmed out a spot in the tree and put a ladder stand up. At that time I didnt archery hunt and waited eagerly for the opening day of Virginia's early muzzleloader season. I took leave for the two week season. With my schedule, that left me nearly three weeks to hunt. Opening day finally came and I was in my ladder stand well before sun up. It was easy to get in and out of, only being about 40 yards from the old driveway. Early season in Virginia can be sweltering hot, freezing, or anything in between. As I recall, it was cold and I was bundled up in winter clothes. My stand faced directly down the fence line towards the thicket. The pond was on my right and the field on my left. The thick cedars on the fence line prevented me from seeing or shooting into most of the field. A deer trail ran the fence line in front of me and past a large bush about 35 yards in front of me. As the sun began to rise I found myself looking at a rock I hadn't noticed before on the trail behind the bush. As the woods and the little thicket started filling with more light, the rock suddenly moved. I was shocked, the rock was an 8 point buck. He stood behind the bush for what felt like an eternity. I had bought the cheapest stand on sale and it had no gun rest. I remember thinking the rifle weighed a ton and was slightly relieved when the buck turned to walk away from me into the thicket. As he was walking away, I made a single grunt on the call I was wearing around my neck. Much to my surprise the buck turned and started to walk towards me. As he was walking around the bush I rose the riffle and tried to calm my nerves. As soon as he cleared the bush I impatiently fired. He was facing me almost head on when I fired aiming into his chest below the neck. My load back then was the Hornady 250 grain SST and two 50 grain pellets. I sat in stunned silence for a minute before deciding I should reload. I knew I should wait, but after about 10 minutes I couldn't stand it anymore. I climbed down and walked to the bush finding no signs of a hit, no blood or hair. I walked a few more yards still finding nothing. My hunting partner called and said he was coming to help. It seemed like forever waiting for him, but in reality was less than 15 minutes. During the wait doubt started to set in. Was I shaking so hard I missed, did my impatientance in taking a nearly head on shot simply wound? When my partner arrived we decided to walk the deer path against the fence and look for sign. As I walked looking for blood, I nearly tripped over the buck. He was dead on the fence line about 60 yards from the shot. We have ever found a trace of blood during the track. I was elated and relieved. We were both relatively inexperienced hunters trying to figure things out. We dressed the buck and got him to the driveway. We hadn't quite perfected our field dressing skills yet and I'm sure we looked like we killed a small family. In retrospect that buck wasn't much to brag about, an average 8 point with a rack just wider than his ears, but I sent pictures to everyone I knew. The skull mount is still hangs in my basement.
The "pond stand" accounted for more deer than I can recall over the years. I miss the place. I pass it nearly every day at work. It is now a high density housing development. A park surrounds the pond. I always think of the 8 pointer and other notable bucks I killed there when I pass. While I have a few places to hunt now, I still miss that place and the others we lost over the years to development. The Game Department encouraged taking does and in that area you could buy as many antlerless tags as you wanted. We killed a ton of deer in those years. We fed our families, and nearly anyone else who asked. Most importantly, we gained experience and learned quickly. I'm grateful we have been so blessed and thank the Lord daily.