Remember your first big game shot?

[RainyLaker]

I'm a total big game newb. I've been out for bear a number of times this spring and had one come in behind me at 20 yards that I didn't hear or see until he was moving off into the brush. I half heartedly chased after him then ran back to my truck.

Last fall, my buddy took a series of 10+ photos of a mulie doe and 4 point buck humping at 25 yards without taking a shot with his 30.06. I couldn't believe him and neither the rest of us until we saw the pics. Got me to wondering what that first shot is actually like. I couldn't understand why he didn't shoot.

Please tell me your stories of your first big game shot and maybe what it took to get through that first one, confidently or not.

[Fella]

First big game was an old black bear. He was eating grass at the edge of a meadow 30 yards off the road. I got out and pointed my rifle at him but didn’t like the shot placement he offered so hesitated. He then turned and went into the bush and I followed him in. Looking back probably a bad idea because it pissed him off. Finally he turned in a clearing and stood his ground. I was 10 yards away and squeezed the trigger.

[MichelD]

1969 I think it was, I was 16. Grew up in Port Hardy and my dad was familiar with these semi alpine swampy meadows off a logging road about 45 minutes away by road then a half-hour walk into the bush. Him and my 12 year old brother and me went up there, hiked into the bush, crossed the log bridge he'd fallen across the river and were walking to the meadows. My dad and brother were ahead of me about 40 yards as we entered a small meadow and after they had passed, a buck came out of the bush to my left only about 40 yards away. I didn't have time to think. I slipped my safety off and raised my WW1 Ross 303, sighted behind the front shoulder and shot offhand from a standing position and the deer dropped. I was both still shocked that it all had happened so fast and elated at the same time when the deer got up and charged away crossing in front of my dad who shot at it, cutting hair across his back.

We never found that deer.

The next year 1970 in a nearby location I was in a similar situation crossing from one meadow through an island of trees on a ridge and then emerged off the ridge to a meadow, there about 50 yards away was a buck on the tail of a doe. I raised the Ross, sighted on the buck's neck, shot and he dropped.

it was a 4x5 blacktail. Both times I never really had time to think about what was happening.

The funny thing is that I didn't know anything about ammo in those days, using a pocketful of mixed loads with different bullet weights and types and even brands. The rear sight on that Ross is a receiver mounted peep sight that if you tip it up has a hole to sight through and an elevator screw. Left folded down there is a crude "U" shaped notch to sight through. That's what I used on that buck and subsequent deer and never missed or wounded a deer again.

The funny thing is that 15 years later when I moved to Vancouver in 1985 I went to a range for the first time in my life to sight in my guns (I had a 243 by then bought in 1976) and found out that Ross is not particularly accurate even using one single type of ammo.

[Blacktail1]

Sure do shot a poor spike buck in the ass with an arrow when I was 11 . Luckily made a good fallow up shot. Still not sure how I did that .

[caddisguy]

It was a black bear, actually the same one in my profile picture.

Was sitting on a log with my wife when we heard it snapping through the timber, right before it appeared in the little meadow. We watched it eat grass and make it's way closer to us. I took the shot and the bear dropped instantly. I was in disbelief. I didn't even see it go down, but looked over to caddisgirl and she makes this hand gesture, putting her hands together and imitating the bear flopping over.

That night was an adventure. Quite stressful at the time but very memorable in hind sight, as we ended up figuring out how to dress a big time animal (a bear of all things) well into the dark.

I actually have the video of the shot and caddisgirl doing the hand gesture thing somewhere on YouTube.

And that came after a failed attempt the previous year. We had only first tried bear hunting for 1 day the season prior and it was the last day of the season. Similar scenario. We were sitting in a feeding pocket and the bear came out. It walked right up, only several yards away. I squeezed the trigger and heard the loudest sound I have ever heard.... "CLICK"... the bear paused, literally jumped and did a 180, then ran into the next time zone. There was no "try again" since that was our first day bear hunting and the last day of the season.... I had an entire year to obsessively replay that over and over in my head wondering if getting that close to a bear was a repeatable process, so when we did get that first bear in 2015, you can imagine how exciting that was after the misfire "click" in 2014.

[IronNoggin]

51 falls ago. I was eleven. Second year packing a rifle for deer - mulies.
Year before Pa dropped one I tagged. Lesson learned was to be both quick and accurate.

This time around I again saw the 4 point mulie first. 125 yards up a canyon above us.
Semi hidden, but I could see it's head, and a basket ball sized hole in the brush centered on it's chest. Lined up the ancient scope on Gramp's old 250-3000, and center punched it's heart. It ran like hell right at us. Pa quickly overcame his surprise and lifted his rifle to his shoulder just as it tumbled to lie right at our feet.

Mixed emotions that day.
Proud, somewhat overwhelmed by what I had done, and somewhat pensive over taking another's life.

I have not missed a single season without a harvest since. Most years multiples of that.
Fully expect to do so as long as I live.
Most often go through the same emotional response damn near every time.

Cheers,
Nog

[lovemywinchester]

I didn't start until i was 40! It's never too late to get hunting. My first mulie was with my buddy. We saw the buck and it took off then stopped. I could see it but my buddy couldn't. I was hunting with my old lever gun so he handed me his 30-06. I put it right on the bucks head and blam! I popped my hunting cherry. I borrowed another guys 270 and killed a doe that same year. Don't give up or get too frustrated RaineyLaker! Time in the bush, going slow and good mentors are the key. Here is a link to my first year. Maybe you can get some motivation from it.

http://www.huntingbc.ca/forum/showthread.php?59065-Blacktail-down-for-the-hat-trick

[wideopenthrottle]

I am having trouble remembering the first animal I shot at but remember well the first I hit..

it was a WT doe (quite small) that I took on an LEH near rock creek...

I was slowly walking down a road after the 3 of us split up in the morning near first light...I was a few hundred feet down the road when I looked up the hill to my left and there were 3 deer (I only saw 2 of them)…

the 2 I saw were both good sized -buck and doe...they were partially hidden behind a clump of bushes at about 120 yds...

I had no rest and no clear shot as they went behind the bushes...one walked out from the other side of the bushes and I managed to get an off hand shot through the boiler room. it was not one of the 2 I had seen..it was small but it was my first...

[KodiakHntr]

Like it was yesterday...
Six years old, shooting over dad's shoulder. Shot a spike muley square centered up and down and front to back, right through the liver with a 6mm Remington that I still have. Must've taken him 10 minutes to get me to the point where I could see that deer in the shadows. Deer hit the ground so fast he bounced.
I don't remember all the animals I've killed without reminders at this point, but that memory is crystal clear.
Good thread.

[decker9]

I remember my first big harvest like it was yesterday,

32 years ago, I was 8 years old. My dad hunted goats a lot, and I was finally big enough to go. After a normal episode to get into goat country, we belly crawled up over a ridge on day 2, peeking over to see my billy standing there about 100 yards away. I loaded a 160gr round nose in my custom 6.5x55BJImp that my grandad had built for me, my dad whispers “right in the middle of his shoulders”, I think I had felt the first stage of the trigger before he said a word lol.

My goat fell into a hell’holl, so myself and the other 8 year old with us sat above while dad and his friend retrieved the goat. I didn’t mention, the last thing I clearly remember as the “dad’s” were glassing up the goats, one dad says to the other… “we’ll be sleeping over there if we shoot that goat”, with a reply of “agh, it’ll build character”.

With nothing but a space blanket and 1 package of itchyban between us 4, it was a long cold windy wet night under that balsam tree, huddled up beside my dad, cooking goat on a stick.

[quadrakid]

First shot ever at a big game animal, 59 inch Yukon moose. Put two an inch apart through his lungs and all he did was shake and stare at us. A few more and i was standing over a mountain of dead critter.

[Codes44]

I don't know if you're buddy realizes 4 point muley's don't exactly grow on trees around here! He'll soon regret that decision I imagine as it may be years before he see's another haha.

My first shot and first big game animal was a spike moose, 115 yards - 7MM Mag. Felt like I won the lottery! It was a grind getting him out though, that was before I knew enough to quarter the sucker! That was many years ago of course, but still remember the exhilaration and then total respect for the animal....no ounce of meat was wasted I can tell you that.

[northcoastfun]

Some days I can’t remember what I put on my toast for breakfast... but I certainly remember my first big game animal. Standing point on opening morning of Saskatchewan whitetail season . I was at a pinch point and literally watched a very decent buck scream by me in road gear . Never even raised the rifle . Seconds later a spiker runs out and pauses long enough to look at the strange looking orange teletubby trying to keep the cross hairs from shaking so bad . The Remington 760 in .270 did its job . 42 years ago

[vincentcui]

My first big game shot was black bear in region 3, circa 2014. It felt so good; memory is super fresh that I could recall every second before and after I pulled the trigger. It's like the day you lost your V-card, always unforgettable regardless of it's good or bad (and of course, good is better than bad lol).

[boilerroom]

First and only. Got a moose while hunting with my two buddies. Guy in the lead spots two moose in a meadow and motions me up with him. As I get to him he drops to a knee and is fussing with his rifle - trying to fix a jam. I get the scope on the bull and keep asking my buddy "Do I shoot him?"... didn't want to take "his" moose. It starts to walk away so I aim for its shoulder with my 6.5CM and drop him. Such an amazing feeling after hunting for mule deer for 5 years without ever pulling the trigger.

[RainyLaker]

These are some incredible stories. I appreciate each of you for sharing. I try to visualize that first shot because I don't want to do what my buddy did. Honestly, I think he froze. The more that I'm in the bush, the more pieces I learn to go over and over. I feel I'm right with you on your first shots. Wow!


I didn't start until i was 40! It's never too late to get hunting. My first mulie was with my buddy. We saw the buck and it took off then stopped. I could see it but my buddy couldn't. I was hunting with my old lever gun so he handed me his 30-06. I put it right on the bucks head and blam! I popped my hunting cherry. I borrowed another guys 270 and killed a doe that same year. Don't give up or get too frustrated RaineyLaker! Time in the bush, going slow and good mentors are the key. Here is a link to my first year. Maybe you can get some motivation from it.

http://www.huntingbc.ca/forum/showthread.php?59065-Blacktail-down-for-the-hat-trick

I love being in the bush, trying to learn the lay of the land and how every thing moves through it. How cool is it to find a bed, scat, or any kind of sign. To feel the wind and wonder what it's doing at the end of the cut block. Kind of wish I had known to just stick with a career in fisheries biology or c.o. Takes patience and knowing it's possible btw. Too far from retirement and not enough holiday time to spend what I'd prefer to spend out there. Seems it's harder these days to be a hobo. :|

[Foxton Gundogs]

Blacktail fork horn Sechelt 1958 with Gramps' 25-20

[whitlers]

R5 Doe draw. Missed a buck that morning so was pretty upset. Ended up bumping a beautiful heathly Doe at less than 20 yards. Shot her clean through both lungs and found her piled up less than 30 yards away. Older gentlemen I was with guided me through the field dressing process and off to camp to hang. I remember walking up on my first dead animal and not knowing how to feel. A bit excited but a bit remorseful.

[Iron Glove]

About 15 years ago, first time ever hunting, maybe 10 minutes from the cabin. Neighbour took me out in his Samurai and we cruised around on a beautiful sunny day for a few hours, didn't see a thing so we figured we'd head home.
Come a round a corner, there's 3 does and a small buck just off the trail. I jump out, fumble a few rounds into the 30-06, cycle the bolt and go prone to get a good shot. Take my time, line it up but a doe kept getting in the way, finally, clear shot, pull trigger "CLICK." Forgot to make sure there was a round chambered. Buck wanders off a few 100 ft. Follow it, line up another shot "Bang". Missed.
Buck wanders off again a few 100 ft. line up a shot, "Bang." Deer drops.
We walk over to a little depression in the ground where the deer dropped, no deer, no blood, no nothing, deer must have tripped just when I shot.
I'm really pissed, my Buddy is pissing himself laughing so hard. Spot the damn deer, line him up, Buddy is laughing "Common, just shoot the damn thing."
"Bang Flop" and it's down.
Pretty stunned ( me that is ) , we dragged it to his Samurai and off we went to the cabin where we hung and prepped it.
So, of course getting a deer first time, minutes from the cabin on a sunny day, I figure this hunting thing is pretty easy.
Nope, found out over the years that it's a lot harder than that. :mrgreen:

[oddsix]

Yep, 14 years ago with my old man. 14 years old. Hit Highway 24 at 4:45am. Blaze of Glory by Bon Jovi playing until we hit the FSR. Not 50 yards in the first slash we turned into, Muley spike on my right. Hopped out, aimed, shot high, put one through it's spine. It didn't take another step. That was the first time in my life my old man gave me a hug haha. He was a proud dad. Can't wait to see my little guy do the same in 10 years.

[srupp]

Hmmm yes decades and decades and decades ago.Dad worked hard but large familly times were always tough..always.
Kraft dinner and wieners..
Identical brother Gerald and I took his Mazda 808 and hit the woods to try and help.shot a massive moose and needed to go get Dads Ford pickup
Filled the freezer with tender delicious moose meat ..great memories..
Thanks for letting me remember.
Oh ya Gerald took the shot I just grinned
Steven

[Bigdoggdon]

11 years old hunting with my dad. We'd walked a clear cut in the morning and saw a couple of does. We were driving to another spot when a 2pt blacktail stood up on a small bluff above the road at 30 yards, we stopped, I got out and loaded the 270, put the crosshairs on his neck and squeezed the trigger. Down he went. My dad jumped out of the truck cheering. We walked up to the deer dad looks at me and says "you blew his leg off" and I'm like "no I didn't, there's my bullet hole in his neck". Upon closer examination the deer was indeed missing one of his front legs. The bone protruded out below the shoulder and was bleached white. The wound was completely healed. Everything below the knee was gone. Presumably another hunter had shot him earlier in the season or maybe even the year before and he got away only to meet up with me and become my first deer.

[Hugh Mann]

It's a pretty lame story.
October, 2017, about 10am.
Was going duck hunting with a couple guys a few years ago. Had my deer rifle too, because well, they're in season too. Driving to the first pond, I spot a deer, call it out. Truck stops, I glass the deer. Two point mule buck! In the grass beside it, a second two point buck! Bail out, grab the gun and load a couple rounds, a Sako AV 270 winchester. About 70 yards, boom, deer goes down. Buddy starts unscrewing the duck Choke from his shotgun, running after the second buck, and drops it with buckshot. Turns out I spined my deer, and so I delivered a coup de grace. None of us had ever dressed an animal, so that was a flustercluck, but we got it done. Had the deer at the butcher a couple hours later, and if memory serves right, we went back out and bagged a few ducks later that day.

[fuzzybiscuit]

8 years old in 1980 on the Island. Buddy and I were shooting our pellet guns out in the bush a few miles from home when a cougar walked out 20 feet from us and turned sideways. Up came the old .22 cal break-open pellet gun and I plugged that sucker right behind the shoulder. It jumped straight up in the air and then high-tailed it out of there like it was on fire. It was almost as fast as my buddy was running in the opposite direction.

[SBrad]

Was out moose hunting on a lake in region 6 saw a cow calf on the shore and decided to try to circle in behind them and call while still hunting through the timber, 30 min into my first day the branches start shaking big bull moose charges in to 10 yards no time for thinking just shoot. It was a crazy experience. Not something someone could forget.

[250 sav]

1979 hunting with my dad, spike buck at what I thought was 200 yards, but dad said was a 100. He told me to put my 20 gauge and slugs down and use his 270. Boom ran 20' and piled up. Had liver, onions and potatoes for dinner at camp with my dad, uncles and both grandpa's. Excellent memories.

[hawk-i]

White tail buck using grampa's 760 30-06 (1970) alberta, wasn't the cleanest kill...poor old buck deserved a better demise than that.

[sakohunter]

Bowen Island, Deer hunting with a long bow and wooden arrows. Walking back to the truck after a day of hunting all flustered and discouraged at the top of the mountain there. Walked right past a beded Doe. Took a few paces past the doe nocked an arrow turned got set and shot. It wasn't a great hit and the deer ran clear down to the bottom of the mountain there. Tracked the deer into a pile of slash where the doe expired. I know how much they love hunters over there so went into the pub washed the blood off had a beer and got off the island. 59lbs on the hook at Ennis meats. We all start somewhere.

[moosinaround]

Hmmm, Calf moose for me. Walked along the edge of a grain field, spotted a cow moose, with a calf. Loaded the ole 300 win mag, dropped the crosshairs on the head of the calf and BOOM, BOOM!!! I shot, at the same time my buddy shot! looked up, a cow and a calf ran away??? WTH??? My buddy went looking for blood, and I was pretty certain I saw a moose drop? Sure as $hit I hollered at my buddy, "Moose right here"!!! It did drop in its tracks!! First animal I field dressed by myself too! A couple of guys showed up as we were dragging the moose out whole, they helped us throw it in the back of the truck, and now to this day, I have no money, because I spend it all on guns, ammo, and hunting $hit, THE END!!??, or was it the beginning?? Moosin

[swampthing]

My first big game kill happened when I was a young boy, and was with a rimfire so we wont bring that up! I vividly remember my first big buck though! It was my first hunt to the alpine lookin for anything better than a 2 point muley. I was hungover bad because thats what young men do when on an adventure. It was 1pm and very hot when I hit tree line on the beautiful alpine mountain on sept 1st. I took in the sights of the shulaps range and finished off my small canteen of water. I stood up and turned to look up the steep mountain. There bedded 100 yards above me was an incredible non typical velvet buck. That was the day I learned what buck fever was! I convulsed and shook horribly as I tried to steady myself against a small sun alpine spruce. I couldnt get it together and the buck finally bolted from his bed! Reflex took over and I swung on the buck emptying all 5 rounds out of the mini 14s magazine. I dropped the clip and slammed home a spare as the buck cartwheeled to a stop! It was an incredible moment I will never forget. It was then when I noticed an even larger typical 4 point 200 yards away. I stared in awe as he moved away over the mountain. As I was new to this alpine thing I had no backpack! Only my youth helped me drag that buck, the heaviest I have ever taken, off that mountain. That gorgeous 5x7 buck had me hooked and I have been mountain hunting ever since that day almost 40 years ago.

[JagrM]

This is a long winded story of my first ever shot on a game animal. But I started to recount the story and had a great time reflecting on it and looking back at some pictures. Everything from the binoculars I used to the old 30-30 I used I have to this day. I actually haven’t harvest an animal unless I’ve had my 30-30 with me. So I hope you all enjoy and I look forward to hearing more stories. Cheers.


So the story I’m about to tell happened 14 years ago but I remember it like it happened yesterday.


My dad and I 13 years old at the time had planned to hunt Remembrance Day as I had the Friday off of school and he had it off work. We packed up early and got to my relatives ranch. My father grew up spending a lot of time on this ranch and had a very good lay of the land.


We started hiking into a secluded meadow about 2 km from the truck. I had never been to the area before and it was a lot of steep side hilling on a east slope with a good sized creek in the bottom. We hiked slow for a an hour and a bit and approached the edge of the meadow which was rectangular in shape with a raised ridge that formed a sort of bowl shape on the North and west side of the meadow where the south border lie level with the meadow and was heavily wooded and to the east it fell off into the canyon down to the creek.


As we approached the meadow he motioned me forward to go ahead of him and we crested the east slope in the south east corner of the meadow. This is when he told me to pull out my binoculars, an old pair of Bushnells I received from my grandfather earlier that year. I looked around the meadow and saw nothing. I took my binoculars down and looked at my dad. He had his binos up looking to the North east of the meadow. This is when I remarked “there’s nothing there” (Looking back on it now I don’t even think I had my class up for more than 20 seconds) my farther replied “look into the north east corner again”. I took my glass and looked towards the NE. All I could see was a bunch of good sized willows with forest behind and not much else. I took my binoculars down and without even looking at me eyes still in his glass he said “keep looking”. Frustrated I looked again and that’s when I saw him. I could only see the top 3rd of his back and his neck and head. My heart stopped it was a large two point feeding in the willow at about 100 yards away. My heart stopped.


Following my fathers lead we backed down the slope and moved North beneath the crest of the creek valley. We moved slow, really slow and I remember him looking back and saying slow down more than once. For a 13 year old boy seeing his first deer with a gun in his hands it was all I could do to not run.


We poked over the crest of the river valley and glassed in his last known position. The buck had moved and was now facing east but was also less obstructed by the willow. We were about 60 yards away and he told me this was my time. Laying prone on half on the flat half over the ledge I cocked my model 94 Winchester that i had received from my god fathers dad in September on a moose hunt i was invited on. At this point the buck looked up but only for a moment before going back to snacking. I lined the old iron sites on the bucks shoulder. I was shaking pretty good but had practiced a lot so I took a deep breathe and squeezed the trigger.


The sound of the rifle was so loud after the prolonged silence of a mule deer hunt that it felt like the concussion broke the air like a pane of glass. I lost the deer in the recoil and just stared in the direction of the shot. After that I kind of don’t remember anything for a bit.


I’m not sure how long we waited, I think I was in shock but my heart beat sounded almost as loud as the old lever action in my head. My father grabbed my shoulder and urged me ahead. We went up to the area the buck was standing and looked for sign. We suspected a good hit as there was a lot of blood. We followed the blood trail into the woods and there laying head was the buck. It was a high lung shot on a quartering to angle. My father asked for my rifle and I approached the buck. I still to this day feel the empty feeling when I walk up on a harvested animal, something like guilt but not. For sure a tad solemn but feeling but super excited all at the same time. Half of me wants to jump around screaming but the other wanted to just fall asleep. It’s a feeling like nothing else. We sat in silence for awhile as I admired my kill. After I had my moment we had a bit of a celebration. Then we went to work on my very first deer…

[bigneily]

My first was a whitetail doe , actually it was a button buck but we didn't know that till my dad and I walked up to it . It was 41 years ago when I was 8 years old , one shot with a 22-250 and dunnzo. I remember that when.my dad cut the meat we had to label the packages as to who's deer we were having for dinner ...lol... memories not forgotten

[Islandeer]

1970.
Goldstream watershed.

Rainy blowy November day, in Dads old Datsun truck.

Creeping along near Jack lake, Doe walked out, behind the shoulder Dad whispered.
The old 25/35 cracked and it was done.

I felt so proud, and happy!!

I remember being amazed at Dad gutting the deer.

Liver, heart and onions for supper that night!

I was 10, remember every morsel of that moment with Dad.
It was the beginning of many successful hunts in the Watershed,amazing times creeping timber there.

[warnniklz]

Before I was walking, my dad and 2 g-pa's had me out and about. There was lots of hot spring/summer days drinking warm grape juice observing burnt stumps on the hill below looking for bears. There was also the deer hunting days in "deep" snow (it's deep when you're 5) carrying your apple and granola bar around trying to keep up with father. He would often turn around and tell us we were being too loud. Not that we were talking or whatever, we just didn't know how, or possibly able to walk quietly. Especially at his pace.

I remember being a small child and using dry grass as toilet paper. Well... I had jeans on and an itchy ass for the rest of the day. I was maybe 6 or 7 at the time, but after that I got my grandma to sow me up some fleece camo hunting pants and disowned jeans from hunting.

Even though I spent all those years, learning, me and my brother helping my dad pack critters out of the woods... after I got my hunting license, it was still a few years before I shot my first big game animal. We would often have friends and family up from the coast for a long weekend to try and get them critters. So it was often power hunting on a thanksgiving weekend. I would have chances to shoot deer, but was often told "we can come out another time to get a better deer".

I was 14? at the time. Maybe 15. Remembering numbers is hard, but I do remember the event very vividly. It was thanksgiving weekend. My dad's friends were up from the coast to get a deer or two. We hunted HARRRD. It seems to me it was unusually hot that year. None the less, we were having troubles getting one deer on the deck in a spot that use to produce easy deer. It was the last day of the Vancouverites hunting trip. Me and my dad decided to relocate to another area. We headed back for the war wagon and were on route.

This deer came up out of the ditch along my side of the truck. I remember everything slowing down and really being able to look at this deer's eyes. Just above those eyes was bone.

With the magazine to my Savage 99C in my right hand, I used my smallest two fingers to pull the door lever on the old 86 chev. My dad all in one motion put the clutch to the floor, shifted to neutral and I heard the "shoot that one right there" With rifle in hand, I was out of the truck before the wheels stopped turning. By the time I had the 308 loaded, the buck was back in the ditch, just inside the trees. I lined up on him. Perfectly broadside moving right to left, I fired.

Through the old 3-9x40 redfield wideview scope, I watched the deer hunch up and disappear over the edge. By this time my dad had the truck parked and was behind me. I recounted of what happened. We went in after the buck and he didn't go 15. I had hit him in the liver. I would like to say it was because he was moving that direction... but after shooting that old 308 some more, I know I just can't shoot model 99s.

I tagged him out and we had the tenderloins that night for dinner. Father's friends never did get a deer, so we gave them mine (I didn't get to fill my 2nd tag, but that was ok with me). They left me the antlers and memory anyways.

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[jonz]

I remember it very well. 15 years ago, my 3rd season of hunting. A 2 point blacktail buck on Texada Island, November 2006, taken with a .270.

[jimzuk]

My first was a 4 point muley I think I was 18 years old. It was a ways off the closest road and it took 3 of us to drag it out.

[longwalk]

30 plus years ago hunting a hayfield with my older brother and his friend. The two of them chased a two point mulie off some private property that we did not have access to while I set up and waited. One shot from the Tikka 270 that I had borrowed from my brother and it was all over.

[JoeSixPack]

September 24th, 2008, I was 11. My dad and I were walking a fresh clear cut. As we came over a rise, we stopped and I spotted a cow moose on the tree line. The cow walked into the block, followed by a large bull and another cow. They were about 250 yards away. With no rest, and me being unable to hold the old 303 steady without one, we watched them walk across the block. About halfway across, they stopped, and the bull bred one of the cows. When they slipped into the tree line, we hightailed it down the block road to a large stump that I could use for a rest. A couple of cow calls by my dad and we can hear sticks start to break. Out steps this big bull, probably 50 inches wide, and stops just at the edge of the timber 80 yards away. I was shaking so bad from excitement I couldn't shoot. I remember my dad saying "Shoot him! Shoot him quick!". I never pulled the trigger, and that big old bull turned back into the trees and walked out of my life forever. I was dejected.
Not two minutes later, I heard a stick crack, looked up, and out stepped a small bull 200 yards away. We shifted position slightly, and I said "I can take him dad!". BANG. I shot that little bull through the heart at over double the distance that the big bull was not minutes before.
Walking up I remember being emotional about taking a life, but when we recovered it I was overcome with excitement. Easily one of my fondest memories.

[RainyLaker]

Amazing posts everyone! You help me to see myself in these stories but also to see the importance of teaching my young kids, family and friends as well. My kids are 6 and 9 (boy and girl though still working on their individualized gender lol) and I think I still have a chance to teach them all that my Dad taught me and that I am relearning. The responsibility, respect, ethic, comradery and all else that goes hand in hand. Anyway, here's my first shot story.

Geeze, I guess I remember it like it was three days ago.

'Dad and Son' from this board was very generous in showing me the ropes and some beautiful countryside. Using his quad, we drove miles upon miles through a maze of cut blocks. I wanted to stop at every blackened stump or pile of scat. There were 100's. 'Dad' had faith. We drove endlessly, looking through the trees, up and down hills and then wouldn't you know it, we almost ran one over. Spooked a 3-4 year old boar off the road at 20 feet. We were both looking somewhere else.

It seemed small to me but I was happy it was alone. I knew it to be a shooter. 'Dad' confirmed. Definitely not a two year old like I had said I wouldn't take. Oh look at me and being so noble. ;)

It ran uphill but not far, stopped and turned broadside for a look cause this is apparently what they do. I had the perfect shot at less than 50, squeezed and nothing. My Sauer 80 300 win mag built in West Germany really likes the bolt jammed shut. I ejected and reloaded, again nothing. I didn't want to make too much noise. The bear was really patient with me. I ejected again and the bear was growing tired and started walking towards the cut line.

It was out of sight above me so I ran to where I knew he'd come out. This time I rammed the bolt in a rather prejudicial unpleasant German fashion and stopped where I needed to. The bear came out, slowly and I aimed and fired. It ran 40 yards stopped and looked at me. I ran with him, loaded, aimed and shot again. He ran into the cut line to rest against a tree.

He was still moving a bit, his head slightly and also hanging onto the slope with one paw. Since he was behind the tree I couldn't get a shot so I climbed up to him just as his remaining strength fell from his body and his paw lost purchase to this world. He took a few breaths and I shot him a third time to be sure he was ok.

I wasn't emotional, more single minded, tunnel visioned, focused. I guess being a 45 year old late bloomer affords me that. I just wanted to make a clean shot. I moved around him and checked to see that his eyes were open. Thanks SRUPP. They were and I then laid down tobacco and offered prayers to the creator for this animal, my first.

If there's one thing that is amazing about hunting, it's the learning. Learning about connection of how I move through and fit into this natural world that I've so easily fallen out of. This is a true gift. Non hunters can't understand this. And none of my friends (even hunting friends) nor family want anything to do with me right now for they don't know why I would go out of my way to kill something so integrated into the natural scape. To me, it's the connection that I feel as a hunter, that can save me and my family from losing perspective of the truly important. To think of a future where monocultured farms, cities, gardens, lawns, forests are creeping ever closer, I will fight and be a counter force to that.

My deepest gratitude goes to 'Dad' of Dad and Son for his generosity and mentorship (as I remember fondly my Dad). It's a huge risk to go hunting with someone you don't know. The risk goes from being in danger to having an outright miserable cranky day spent with some crazed wingnut. That potential is on both sides. 'Dad' was gracious, generous, good company, helpful. Thank you!

PS I did think the bear was beautiful, cute and gentle but only until I saw the fight still etched into it's curled lip as it breathed it's last breaths. This animal was just entering his prime. I measured him after he'd tensed up. He was 5'3" and 140lbs field dressed. I was amazed by the size of his head when I came close. We later saw a bruiser on the road ahead of us. He was walking away from us without a care in the world and from 500 yards, you could see his swagger, his thighs not touching unlike many wannabe 20 something coeds. As we approached, he tried to run and you could see the fat rippling through it's body with each stride. I'm kind of glad to have had a smaller animal to start on.

[Rob Chipman]

Floating the Blackwater about 45 years ago on a snowy morning. Buddy and I heard some thumping, I look over my shoulder and see a cow moose looking out of the willows.

I say "What should we do?"

Buddy says "Shoot 'er"

I shoot offhand, over my left shoulder back upstream (not much distance, thankfully), right in the center of the chest.

Bang flop.

Walked up on her and was afraid she might be alive, so I decided to pop her in the head from about 10' away. Took off the top of her ear.


You remember the first time you processed a moose? You know, with the broken Korean jack knife? You get the picture :-)

The canoe had about 1" of freeboard when we were finally loaded up.

Good times.

[HarryToolips]

Not much of a story for my first but, my first was a muley buck in a group of does, he wasn't even aware of my presence I hammered him dbl lung at about 40 yards...I remember standing there looking stunned and thinking k now what do I do because i never grew up hunting and only had one friend at the time who was a hunter so I had never seen an animal field dressed other than on you tube, fortunately a rancher was driving by and he helped me do it...lol I put more effort into watching processing vids after that so the subsequent harvests were much easier to deal with...