Accompanied by my 10 year old son Aidan a couple of weeks later, I harvested a little forked horn buck. This was a special experience to share with my younger son but I was also a little disappointed one of my older ones wasn't there to take advantage of the opportunity to shoot their first buck.
I'd made plans for a 4-day season finale hunt with my oldest son, Riley (13), for this weekend. We were set to stay at a cabin on a close family friend's private property in Mendocino County. However, a work issue arose unexpectedly this Monday and I had to cancel our plans. I woke up late Thursday morning to find it was raining hard. A storm with substantial rainfall was forecast for the next couple of days so I spontaneously decided to take one of my older boys on a day hunt out in the mountains about two hours from our coastal home. Caleb graciously deferred to his older brother, so Riley and I left town around 9:00 am.
It started raining so hard I thought more than once about turning around and heading back home for the comfort of a good book by a warm fire in my den. To make matters more interesting, I discovered to my great chagrin that my windshield was leaking. Water was literally running down the inside of the windshield and dripping through the dash onto the driver's floorboard. One can't shoot a buck from your couch though (at least not in my neighborhood) so we pressed on.
When we hit our general hunting area, we immediately found the heavy, persistent rain had the deer up and moving outside their normal daytime pattern. We spotted 4 spikes and numerous does within a relatively small area. At about 1:45 pm, we were traveling along a graveled forrest service road when we spotted 3 deer in the trees about 25 yards in front of and above us. One was a doe and another a tall spike buck. I stopped to glass the 3rd one and immediately saw he was a nice, plump 2x2 forked horn buck.
I told Riley, "It's a buck!" and to shoot it. As he moved into position and chambered a round, the deer walked further up the hill into the woods. I stood still, watching as Riley took over. My job was done and now it was up to him as he followed alone after the deer. My heart was pounding as I saw Riley throw the rifle to his shoulder a short time later, steady himself, aim and fire. He assessed his first shot and took a second. For a moment I was worried he might have missed as he was shooting at a moving buck in timber in the pouring rain.
My worry changed to elation as Riley turned toward me and excitedly exclaimed, "I got him!" I ran forward and arrived by his side just in time to see the buck expire behind a tree about 35 yards further up the hill from our location.
I could not be prouder of my son or more thrilled to have shared this amazing experience with him. I unexpectedly lost my own father, Mark, a year ago this November. Two weeks before he died, dad took me on an elk hunt that I will fondly remember and cherish forever. My father took me into the the woods each fall to go buck hunting. He taught me how to safely and competently use firearms, navigate the woods, and hunt for game. My dad imparted in me a great passion and respect for all things outdoors--hunting, fishing, camping etc. and I am committed to passing this legacy on to my children and grandchildren too.
My son's first little buck might not be a monster for the record books, but it will always be a world class trophy in both of our hearts.
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