Modern gun youth hunt produces nothing ... except a good time
Posted on Sunday, November 9, 2008
Modern gun’s opening day has come and gone and by now lots of hunters are either boasting of their greatness or bemoaning their ineptitude. I’ve seen both sides up close and I much prefer the former to the latter. But there’s a lot of season left so congrats or, well, keep trying.
The kiddos had first crack with the big guns last weekend and by all indications, it was a pretty good two-day hunt. Unfortunately, my two boys didn’t add to the Game and Fish stats but a hunt is measured by much more than a dead deer. What’s the No. 1 rule when hunting with kids ? Have fun. Trip 1 - The deer hunter
Is deer hunting as tough as I try to make it out to be ? Apparently not, if you listen to my 12-year-old son, Dakota. To him, seeing deer is something that always happens because, well, it always happens when he goes deer hunting.
Deer seem to be attracted to the boy and on most every hunt he’s been on, he gets a shot. He hasn’t hit anything yet, mind you, but he certainly can’t complain about a lack of opportunity. A need for better marksmanship aside, Dakota’s definitely got some deer mojo going on.
In the last few years, he’s had chances to tag several does, a button buck and a spike. Last year, he and I witnessed a huge buck with a wall-hanging rack and if not for his gun hitting the deer stand, a 20-yard shot was fixing to materialize. I wasn’t even hunting but to this day, that buck still haunts me.
Saturday morning proved more of the same. We settled into a deer stand in the White Rock WMA and watched as the sun crept over a distant mountain. I tried to snort up a dumb buck but had no takers. After about an hour, Dakota was tired of being statue still and wanted to walk around a bit. I agreed because two people in this stand didn’t make for the most comfortable conditions.
We hadn’t walked 50 yards when a big doe popped up in front of us and stopped. She was about 40 paces away but there was a little brush between her and Dakota. I told him to shoot when ready and he cut loose with my buckshotspitting 12-gauge. The doe took off and quickly vanished, leaving the two of us looking for signs of a hit. We looked, circled, looked, circled, and looked some more but couldn’t find a hint. Dakota was a bit down but not as much as I was. His first deer will eventually go down but it’ll have to wait for another time.
Trip 2 - Coyote ugly Sunday morning dawned real early thanks to the time change but Colton, my 15-year-old, and I hit the floor running. I don’t know how much my son cares about hunting but he seemed up for it on this day. The strangest part of our hunt occurred before we even got to our parking place. We were about a mile out when the headlights spotted a coyote running in front of us. The wild canine kept up the pace as we drew nearer and he wouldn’t get out of the way. We veered left, so did he. We went right, so did he. I will say this. That little sucker could run. He looked back several times and I know he was smiling.
He ran the entire mile and when it was time to hit a side road to our parking spot, old Wile E. Coyote’s cousin led the way. We finally shook him but it wasn’t until I put the gear shift in park. Colton enjoyed it. It made the trip worthwhile and we’d yet to get out of the truck.
Sadly, that was the highlight of our trip. We settled into a likely spot but the local deer population didn’t cooperate. Of course, Colton never met a noise he didn’t like to make but I can’t say much. After all, those living in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. I remember my youth. Man, I was THE bull in a China closet.
When we got back to the truck, nearby campers had apparently met Lady Luck. A man’s two grandsons had killed spike deer about five minutes apart. That was awesome though I did feel a bit jealous for Colton’s sake. I can’t believe this is his last year to hunt without a license. Where has the time gone ?
Neither hunt produced venison but I did have fun with both of my sons. Time is fleeting and occasions like these don’t come around that often, especially during those ugly teenage years.
So, whenever the opportunity arises, take a kid hunting.
Bobby Hill is the outdoors columnist for the Times and lives in Fayetteville.
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