The First Deer Hunt

Posted By on October 25, 2017

Brody Loftin (10)

Brody happily displaying his shotgun at port arms.

I didn’t realize how much work Mule Deer hunting was (mentally and physically). Don’t get me wrong, it was a spectacular day that I will never forget. My first hunting trip was with my Dad and his friend, Mick, in Unit 38, Payette Islands. This was personal property and to be legal, Mick contacted his boss to verify it was approved for us to hunt on his land.

It was not perfect weather, but I was excited about my first deer hunt. The air was chilled, and sprinkling rain fell down my camo onto the soggy ground.  I had a tag for either sex, but my first deer was going to be a buck.

Brody’s 870 Remington Wing Master 12-gauge shotgun.

As we moved through the brush, I saw 4 deer behind the bushes; it was hard to see what sex these were with the rain and the brush in the way. The deer ran out, and they were all 4 does. Good choice, not to shoot so early in the morning. I decided to move on with my 12-gauge shotgun, an 870 Remington Wing Master, carrying that 1.5 ounce slug for my first deer.  My Dad pointed out a 4-point buck that was in the clearing; this was not a safe shot. Mick was in front of me, and all I could do is watch the beautiful buck take off out of sight.

Brody excited and holding his young buck prize.

All three of us were very wet, and we went back to the pickup for lunch and to get warm. At this point, I was a little disappointed since it was getting later in the afternoon and I could possibly not get a deer in 2016. Went back out for the last try of the day. I spotted a deer, I could see horns but couldn’t see how many it had, to me it looked like a monster deer. I put the sneaky pete on him, and then he heard me. I held perfectly still without breathing.  He started to run, I asked myself “Was this a safe shot” then I thought back quickly to Hunter’s Education. I made my decision then I shot. I made a connection with my deer in the shoulder blade. Excited with fear running inside me, I went to find my deer. It was a spike, but he was not dead. I didn’t want him to suffer and asked my Dad if I could borrow his .380 pistol and shot him in the back of the head.

Brody’s 870 Remington Wing Master 12-gauge shotgun. 

After I had confirmed that he was dead, I filled out my tag and placed the tag in his mouth. As my Dad and Mick showed me how to dress the spike, I thought to myself…I felt bad for killing an innocent animal and not sure if I could do it again in the near future. For now, I will not waste my meat, we decided to make jerky out of him. My grandpa prepped the horns for my memory of my first deer hunt.


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