Jeff Hoover
Blackhawk
- Joined
- Feb 25, 2009
- Messages
- 919
This past Saturday was opening day of muzzleloader season in my home state and I was on a mission! You see, I have a wonderful 16 year old daughter, and she had yet to get her deer this year. She shot a spike at the age of 13, her first year hunting, but had been on a bit of a dry spell the past 2 seasons. This year she wanted meat on the table! I lost access to a farm I hunted for years, a couple years ago, and everyone knows how tough hunting public land can be.
One day a light bulb went off in my head, and I thought of asking my old friend Phil. I don't like asking friends for permission to hunt on their property, especially when I know they hunt themselves. I don't want to put them in an awkward position, and respect their wishes. However, I was desperate, and asked Phil if my daughter could hunt on Saturday, one time deal, just to get her a chance of tagging something. Most sportsmen have a hard time saying no to a young hunter, and Phil was no different. I made it clear that this was Samantha's hunt, and that I would be just tagging along.
A few weeks earlier I had chanced upon a Skeeter Skelton book, and thought of Phil. Five or six years earlier, while talking guns, and such stuff with Phil, Skeeters name popped up. Phil mentioned how much he missed reading his material and knew of the books out there. He also knew of the price tag that accompanied them too. I had been planning to meet Phil for a pre Christmas lunch to catch up and surprise him with the Skeeter book and an extra Skeeter Skelton on Handguns magazine I had. It was later, as I was racking my brain for a place for Samantha to hunt, that Phil's place popped into my head.
As mentioned, I respectfully tip toed my way around asking him permission, and he obliged, whole-heartedly. The date was set, and Samantha and I started getting ready.
Saturday arrived, and it was a perfect day to hunt! It was cloudy, calm, with temperatures in the low 30's. I timed our departure time so that Phil and I could catch up and BS for a while, before the hunt. I also gave him a festively wrapped gift and told him to open it. When he did, he was stunned! He looked at me thru misty eyes and asked," how did you know?" I had to remind him of our conversation from years ago, and he chuckled,"sonuvabitch!" I knew he was tickled, and knew he would be. Old Skeet just has that effect on people.
Phil got his Polaris out and showed us the blind we would be hunting out of. It was a hickory pole constructed blind, built like a small log cabin, without the chinking. Samantha had her muzzleloader, and Phil asked if I brought mine, in case she needed a backup? I told him no, as this was her hunt and I didn't want to appear like I was being pushy and take the risk of offending him by thinking I was gonna hunt too. Phil simply said you better take mine just in case you need a fast follow up shot. Normally I do bring mine along, just for that reason, but I wasn't risking offending Phil. Anyway, Phil's gesture saved the hunt!
So we left Phil happily reading Skeeter, and Samantha and I went to the blind. It wasn't long. Within 15 minutes 4 does and fawns snuck out of the wood line and were within 50 yards of us. They had no clue we were there, as the wind was in our face. I checked with Samantha, and she said, "Dad, we've only been here 15 minutes, let's see if a buck comes out!" It's what I would have done, and she knew it. I told her it was her hunt, and to do what she wanted. 15 minutes later, the deer blew out of the field, something spooked them?
A half hour later, the deer were back. This time they hugged the wood line as they chowed on grass, 145 yards away. Samantha was ready, and said she was gonna take the largest doe when she had a clear shot. Using a trigger stick for support, she leveled her muzzleloader, took a deep breath, let half out, relaxed and squeezed the trigger……click! Misfire! Samantha looked at me. I whispered to her to slowly take the muzzleloader off the trigger stick after waiting 30 seconds, in case of a hang fire. I then gave her Phil's TC Muzzleloader, loaded with 3- 50 grain 777 pellets and a 270 grain powerbelt slug. Samantha repeated her pre-shot ritual all over again. BOOM! The lead doe was a lasered 145 yards away. I was watching thru binoculars focused on her at the shot. I could see the slug strike the doe right in the shoulder. She did the classic marlin jump and twist, switching ends and running into the woods on a hard death run, neck extended, head low to the ground. Samantha, coughing thru all the 777 smoke asked if she got her! I told her she smoked her! Samantha said ,"yeah, and I smoked myself too!" I was really proud. I think I was proudest of the composure Samantha showed at the misfire! She was a cool huntress! Yeah, and I'm pretty damn proud of that 145 yard shot, too!
We loaded up the Polaris with our gear, and took it back to our vehicle, giving the doe plenty of time to die, tho I knew she was dead on her feet after the shot. Phil came with us, after a short tracking job, we found her piled in the brush. She made it all of 30 yards!
Samantha helped pull the doe out of the brush and examined her, showing great respect, as she stroked the does head and body and trying to hide the mixed emotion of euphoria, sadness, respect, and knowing that she had just killed something. Something non- hunters never get to experience, or understand. It's one of the biggest paradoxes there is. Killing what you love. Hunting is conservation, and Samantha knows this.
Samantha wanted to gut the deer! I told her she could, but to let me make the main incision, as it is real easy to nick the stomach, "like that!" As I nicked the stomach, and corn stew oozed out. I gave Samantha the knife and she cut the viscera away from the cavity, and we rolled the doe over and emptied her of her organs. Phil stood in the background, smiling. He then told Samantha he was proud of her shot, but more proud of how she wanted to get her hands on her deer, and help drag and gut it.
We got the deer to Phil's shed and hung her from the tractor bucket to rinse her out. Phil suggested some hot coffee as the deer drip-dried. So that's how we finished the hunt, drinking coffee with an old friend, Samantha nursing hot chocolate, listening to her dad catch up with an old friend. As the sun was setting, there was a natural pause in the conversation. It wasn't an uncomfortable pause. We just watched the sun set, as we reflected on the day. These are the times we cherish, where words are not necessary, but the atmosphere speaks volumes. It was a great moment!
Samantha and I loaded up the deer, and were headed to the butcher shop as we said our farewells to Phil. Samantha thanked him, and gave him a hug. I don't care how crotchety you are, even a crotchety old retired state trooper, when you get a sincere hug from a 16 year old, you gotta smile! And boy did he ever! We crept down Phil's winding driveway as the last rays of sun went over the mountaintop. All in all, it was a pretty good day for all of us!
The 270 grain powerbelt was found on the off shoulder, bulging the skin and weighed 230 grains recovered weight.
One day a light bulb went off in my head, and I thought of asking my old friend Phil. I don't like asking friends for permission to hunt on their property, especially when I know they hunt themselves. I don't want to put them in an awkward position, and respect their wishes. However, I was desperate, and asked Phil if my daughter could hunt on Saturday, one time deal, just to get her a chance of tagging something. Most sportsmen have a hard time saying no to a young hunter, and Phil was no different. I made it clear that this was Samantha's hunt, and that I would be just tagging along.
A few weeks earlier I had chanced upon a Skeeter Skelton book, and thought of Phil. Five or six years earlier, while talking guns, and such stuff with Phil, Skeeters name popped up. Phil mentioned how much he missed reading his material and knew of the books out there. He also knew of the price tag that accompanied them too. I had been planning to meet Phil for a pre Christmas lunch to catch up and surprise him with the Skeeter book and an extra Skeeter Skelton on Handguns magazine I had. It was later, as I was racking my brain for a place for Samantha to hunt, that Phil's place popped into my head.
As mentioned, I respectfully tip toed my way around asking him permission, and he obliged, whole-heartedly. The date was set, and Samantha and I started getting ready.
Saturday arrived, and it was a perfect day to hunt! It was cloudy, calm, with temperatures in the low 30's. I timed our departure time so that Phil and I could catch up and BS for a while, before the hunt. I also gave him a festively wrapped gift and told him to open it. When he did, he was stunned! He looked at me thru misty eyes and asked," how did you know?" I had to remind him of our conversation from years ago, and he chuckled,"sonuvabitch!" I knew he was tickled, and knew he would be. Old Skeet just has that effect on people.
Phil got his Polaris out and showed us the blind we would be hunting out of. It was a hickory pole constructed blind, built like a small log cabin, without the chinking. Samantha had her muzzleloader, and Phil asked if I brought mine, in case she needed a backup? I told him no, as this was her hunt and I didn't want to appear like I was being pushy and take the risk of offending him by thinking I was gonna hunt too. Phil simply said you better take mine just in case you need a fast follow up shot. Normally I do bring mine along, just for that reason, but I wasn't risking offending Phil. Anyway, Phil's gesture saved the hunt!
So we left Phil happily reading Skeeter, and Samantha and I went to the blind. It wasn't long. Within 15 minutes 4 does and fawns snuck out of the wood line and were within 50 yards of us. They had no clue we were there, as the wind was in our face. I checked with Samantha, and she said, "Dad, we've only been here 15 minutes, let's see if a buck comes out!" It's what I would have done, and she knew it. I told her it was her hunt, and to do what she wanted. 15 minutes later, the deer blew out of the field, something spooked them?
A half hour later, the deer were back. This time they hugged the wood line as they chowed on grass, 145 yards away. Samantha was ready, and said she was gonna take the largest doe when she had a clear shot. Using a trigger stick for support, she leveled her muzzleloader, took a deep breath, let half out, relaxed and squeezed the trigger……click! Misfire! Samantha looked at me. I whispered to her to slowly take the muzzleloader off the trigger stick after waiting 30 seconds, in case of a hang fire. I then gave her Phil's TC Muzzleloader, loaded with 3- 50 grain 777 pellets and a 270 grain powerbelt slug. Samantha repeated her pre-shot ritual all over again. BOOM! The lead doe was a lasered 145 yards away. I was watching thru binoculars focused on her at the shot. I could see the slug strike the doe right in the shoulder. She did the classic marlin jump and twist, switching ends and running into the woods on a hard death run, neck extended, head low to the ground. Samantha, coughing thru all the 777 smoke asked if she got her! I told her she smoked her! Samantha said ,"yeah, and I smoked myself too!" I was really proud. I think I was proudest of the composure Samantha showed at the misfire! She was a cool huntress! Yeah, and I'm pretty damn proud of that 145 yard shot, too!
We loaded up the Polaris with our gear, and took it back to our vehicle, giving the doe plenty of time to die, tho I knew she was dead on her feet after the shot. Phil came with us, after a short tracking job, we found her piled in the brush. She made it all of 30 yards!
Samantha helped pull the doe out of the brush and examined her, showing great respect, as she stroked the does head and body and trying to hide the mixed emotion of euphoria, sadness, respect, and knowing that she had just killed something. Something non- hunters never get to experience, or understand. It's one of the biggest paradoxes there is. Killing what you love. Hunting is conservation, and Samantha knows this.
Samantha wanted to gut the deer! I told her she could, but to let me make the main incision, as it is real easy to nick the stomach, "like that!" As I nicked the stomach, and corn stew oozed out. I gave Samantha the knife and she cut the viscera away from the cavity, and we rolled the doe over and emptied her of her organs. Phil stood in the background, smiling. He then told Samantha he was proud of her shot, but more proud of how she wanted to get her hands on her deer, and help drag and gut it.
We got the deer to Phil's shed and hung her from the tractor bucket to rinse her out. Phil suggested some hot coffee as the deer drip-dried. So that's how we finished the hunt, drinking coffee with an old friend, Samantha nursing hot chocolate, listening to her dad catch up with an old friend. As the sun was setting, there was a natural pause in the conversation. It wasn't an uncomfortable pause. We just watched the sun set, as we reflected on the day. These are the times we cherish, where words are not necessary, but the atmosphere speaks volumes. It was a great moment!
Samantha and I loaded up the deer, and were headed to the butcher shop as we said our farewells to Phil. Samantha thanked him, and gave him a hug. I don't care how crotchety you are, even a crotchety old retired state trooper, when you get a sincere hug from a 16 year old, you gotta smile! And boy did he ever! We crept down Phil's winding driveway as the last rays of sun went over the mountaintop. All in all, it was a pretty good day for all of us!
The 270 grain powerbelt was found on the off shoulder, bulging the skin and weighed 230 grains recovered weight.
