First Deer Contest Winner

WINNER OF MY FIRST DEER CONTEST!!!

My First Deer

To my chagrin, as the blast reverberated, the whitetail whirled and vanished. While I attempted to conceal my disappointment, we thoroughly inspected the doe’s initial position.

Editor’s note: This is the winning entry in Northwoods Sporting Journal’s My First Deer Contest. This winner will receive $100.00 for his winning entry. There were many other wonderful first deer stories, some of which will be published in future issues of the Sporting Journal.

BY Jerry Scribner

November, 1967…At age fifteen with visions of approaching adulthood, I was doggedly pursuing the harvest of my first deer. I was on Day Mountain in Strong stalking a few paces in front of my mentor after two fruitless deer hunting seasons. For years I had yearned to join my father on his annual autumn whitetail hunting adventures. Dad had always firmly stated that I could begin deer hunting when I became a teenager at age thirteen.

As I glanced around the edge of a conifer thicket, I laid eyes on a wary doe staring at me from thirty yards. Slowly raising my .32 Special, I aimed and fired. To my chagrin, as the blast reverberated, the whitetail whirled and vanished. While I attempted to conceal my disappointment, we thoroughly inspected the doe’s initial position. Discovering small droplets of blood, we followed the trail until darkness overtook us. Returning to our truck, we drove home in silence.

That evening my uncle and cousin stopped by. My cousin had experienced a similar encounter with a large buck late that same afternoon. Plans were put in place to attempt to locate his buck at daybreak. Afterwards we would search for the deer I had wounded. With a heavy heart, I slept very little that night.

Bad Day

Our hunt for my cousin’s buck was unfortunately in vain. Thus, we returned to Day Mountain and resumed the quest for my doe. Within an hour of taking up the track, we found the deer in swale grass where she had succumbed. Given that we had recovered her, my spirits were elevated somewhat with the recognition that I had my first deer.

Back in those days, some sporting goods stores would barter merchandise for deer pelts. Thus, I acquired a fixed blade hunting knife in exchange for the doe’s hide. Since that trade, I have carried that knife for the past fifty-eight deer hunting seasons as my field dressing tool of choice.

Table Fare

We were not an affluent family. Any contributions of food to our dinner table were cherished. Thus, suppers that included the venison from my doe were very special. While serving supper, Mom would often remind us “Clean your plates or no dessert!” That was never an issue when it was a “Jerry’s deer meat” meal.

During the ensuing deer hunting seasons, I harvested many whitetails including a few over 200 pounds. That first deer weighed a scant 112. That said, the memories of that hunt are more vivid and precious than those of the “wall hangers.” It was that moment in my journey through life that helped me imagine that maybe I had attained adulthood.

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