The Joys

My third child has finally hit an age where he is ready and capable of squeezing the trigger on his first deer. The girls had great interest when younger but once middle school arrived their affection for other hobbies has taken precedence. Hopefully, I’ll be able to pass my passion for hunting on for at least another generation. My son and I often practice with bows and a .22 and finally stepped up to shoot an acceptable deer-caliber rifle this summer. Much to my satisfaction he shot a very tight pattern and was not fazed by what recoil the rifle did have.

A shutdown at work kept us from participating in the Michigan youth season but Indiana also has their act together and offers a special youth season in Sept before the Oct 1st archery opener. Well aware that there was no chance an 8-year-old would sit still, I erected a popup blind to conceal as much movement as I could. The stage was set overlooking a pond riddled with deer tracks where they were coming in to drink. Not only was there a water source but the strip of woods we were in had ag fields on either side and was a major North and South travel corridor for local deer.

Choosing the afternoon to hunt, we snuck towards the blind on an absolutely gorgeous early Fall day. I commend DNR’s that offer youth hunts, if for nothing else weather like this (although there are many more reasons I support youth hunts). One particular maple tree had already turned fire engine red with a few other trees just beginning to show signs of their annual color change. Without issue we got settled in and waited. The waiting only lasted about 15 minutes and then it shifted to a battle with boredom. The struggle was real.

While most of the trees were still green there was one maple that made it clear Fall was just around the corner.

Having recently purchased a nice rotating blind chair for myself, my son quickly focused his attention on how much more comfortable my chair looked than his. I happily switched with him just to keep the party going. The newness of the chair promptly wore off and the next question was how much longer we needed to sit. It was already time to break out the snacks and we hadn’t been in the blind for an hour. This bought a little more time but not much. A couple squirrels collecting acorns helped a little but the dreaded, “I’m bored” finally came out.

Knowing there is a delicate balance between keeping it fun, but yet giving us a chance to actually see game, I had to do something. Recommending that he use the extra sweatshirt we brought as a pillow, he should lay down for a bit while I kept watch. It actually worked and astonishingly he fell asleep. Mind you it was 5 in the afternoon when he started snoring. Happy that we would have some more time together in the blind I kept a vigilant watch. 30 minutes later things got fun. As if scripted, a lone, young deer appeared directly in front of the blind. Popping from dense edge of the hardwoods into the short grass surrounding the pond meandering up for a drink.

Maybe it was the tranquility the hunt offered him or it could have been he was bored out of his mind. In either case my son found the easiest way to pass the time in the blind was snoring.

“Cole, wake up. Cole, wake up. There is a deer right here, wake up.”

“Huh?”

“There is a deer right here, wake up. Do you want to shoot it?”

“No.”

“There is a deer at the pond. Do you want to shoot it?”

“Not right now.”

“We don’t get rain checks son. If you want to kill a deer you need to do it now. Do you want to shoot

this deer?”

“I guess.”

At this point the deer was 60 yards away and oblivious to our existence. The gun was wedged into the shooting sticks with the barrel just outside the blind. Here is where I expected my son to take the gun and settle in for the shot. However, he just stood there. Finally coaxing him into shouldering the firearm, we were making progress. At this point the deer turned and started walking broadside along the edge of the water shortening the distance between us and it.

“Can you see it?”

“No. All I see is black”

“Move your eye closer to the scope. Can you see it.”

“No.”

“Don’t look through the scope. Do you see the deer in front of us?”

“Yes.”

“OK, try again now that you know where it is. It’s just to the left of the oak tree in front of us.”

“I don’t see it. Ok, now I see it. It stopped behind a tree.”

“Just wait, it’ll move. It’s stepping out to the right of the tree. Do you see it now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have it in the crosshairs?”

“No.”

“How about now?”

“Ya, I got it.”

“Shoot when you’re ready son”

Click. The gun had misfired. We were hunting with an MSR so I quickly pulled back the cocking handle and released causing a very loud noise. The gun had now jammed. Looking up the deer was only mildly alarmed and approaching closer. I pulled the handle back, releasing a shell, and allowed it to slam back. The gun had jammed again. Now more curious than ever the deer cautiously approached. Dropping the magazine and pulling the handle back one more time, the shell that had originally been chambered fell to the ground. It was there the whole time causing the jam. Finally having the bullet removed from the chamber, the magazine was inserted, and a second round was finally loaded. At about this moment, the deer had enough and bolted. We watched as the white flag waved goodbye.

After the dust settled, examination of the first shell in the chamber showed evidence that thefiring pin had hit the primer but it failed to go off. Even with the harmless mishap I still consider the hunt a success and a story I hope my son will tell to his kids.

Looking at the primer on the ejected casing, the pin had struck it, just not hard enough. We sat in amazement as I explained to him what had happened. Unbelievable. Playing the sequence of events back in my head, I had to smile. Urging my son that there was still plenty of time left I convinced him to sit back and wait for a bit longer. The adrenaline kept him on task for another 30 minutes but eventually, he asked if we could go. Figuring we’d had an experience for the ages on our first outing and wanting him to come back again, I agreed to start packing up. Cole unzipped the blind and stepped out.

“Dad! Dad!”

“What son?”

“Did you see all these deer? There are deer everywhere. Can you see them? There goes another one!”