MountainmanZ
New member
- Joined
- Jun 26, 2016
- Messages
- 17
I took my 7 yr old son out with me for a couple days so he could see what Dad does when he leaves home this time of year. We spent a day scouting, and then hunted opening day. Last season I shot a buck on opening day, so was determined to stretch this hunt out a bit, see what sorts of bucks were in the area, and not rush anything. Opening morning at 6:30 am the very first antelope to come into the blind was the largest buck we had seen the day before. I struggled to decide what to do. Shoot him, and end the hunt, which would also leave my son thinking hunting must be this easy every time, or stick it out and see what else might come in. I let him walk....!
My son got to watch a number of other antelope come into the water hole, then a blue heron arrived and literally kept 20 antelope (no nice bucks) from watering for two hours. It was almost comical how the antelope would snort and wheeze at the heron, then approach from another direction, snort and wheeze some more, but would not get within 20 feet of the water while that heron hunted what looked like salamanders. Note to self: if a heron lands in your water hole, scare it away or it might cost you a nice buck, lol!
Anyway, as the day went on we eventually took down the blind, and did some stalking before I planned to make the long drive home. I couldn't get over how into this he was for a seven year old. Never complaining, and always on the lookout for that white rump in the sage. I was beat after only getting a couple hours of sleep the night before. I had made up my mind that we would come back next weekend, but as late afternoon set in I began to realize just how much my son wanted to get a buck that day. At one point while we were pulled over on a two-track road having a snack my son put the rangefinder around his neck, and asked me to follow him. "Grab your bow," he said as he tried to lead me away from the truck in the direction of a yearling buck about 250 yards away. I began to second guess my earlier approach of passing on bucks, and I was feeling torn. Part of me wanted to hunt more days here in this place that had become pretty special to me over the years as I harvested several antelope here, including my first big game kill with a bow. At the same time, this feeling began to form in my gut that I had let my son down by not just shooting something earlier in he day when I had the chance, and now it was almost time to go home for the week. Even though I was ready to call it a day, and was exhausted, I unloaded the side by side once again, and told my son to jump in.
As we drove through the sage covered countryside I spotted a buck a few hundred yards ahead of us near a rock pile. I told my son, "Are you okay going after that one?" He replied, "Yeah. It looks like he has good cutters." He had picked up on my lingo, and had been using this "cutters" reference quite a bit while trying to get me to go after some pretty dinky bucks. We went up the road a little more, then we got out of the side-by-side, and started toward the rocks and the buck, who's attention was fixed on another group of antelope a few hundred yards away. I drew my bow, and noticed my son's excitement. His attention was shooting between my bow and the buck. I whispered, "Watch the buck..." When I saw his attention was on the buck I concentrated on my shot sequence, and let the arrow fly. It was a well placed shot at 63 yds, and I could see the buck's hide ripple as the arrow passed through it. The buck sprinted no more than 30 yards, spun, stumbled, then hit the ground.
Right away I looked at my son to gauge his reaction. No tears. I could tell he was attempting to comprehend what he'd just witnessed. We approached the buck, and I had him touch the hide, and I really emphasized why we had to be respectful and thankful for what we'd just been given. His excitement level was through the roof! We snapped a few pictures, and as I pulled out my knife and got to work the questions starting flying! He asked if we could do a European mount for his bedroom wall, but we had to make sure we found the arrow to display in the horns, which we later found stuck in the ground! Mixed feelings became clear feelings that I had done the right thing. The best hunt of my life was over, with the high possibility that a future hunting partnership had just begun. To celebrate, we stopped at the first town we came to, and I picked up a tub of fried chicken (my son's favorite), which he ate in the back seat under the light of his headlamp until he eventually fell asleep during the long drive home.
My son got to watch a number of other antelope come into the water hole, then a blue heron arrived and literally kept 20 antelope (no nice bucks) from watering for two hours. It was almost comical how the antelope would snort and wheeze at the heron, then approach from another direction, snort and wheeze some more, but would not get within 20 feet of the water while that heron hunted what looked like salamanders. Note to self: if a heron lands in your water hole, scare it away or it might cost you a nice buck, lol!
Anyway, as the day went on we eventually took down the blind, and did some stalking before I planned to make the long drive home. I couldn't get over how into this he was for a seven year old. Never complaining, and always on the lookout for that white rump in the sage. I was beat after only getting a couple hours of sleep the night before. I had made up my mind that we would come back next weekend, but as late afternoon set in I began to realize just how much my son wanted to get a buck that day. At one point while we were pulled over on a two-track road having a snack my son put the rangefinder around his neck, and asked me to follow him. "Grab your bow," he said as he tried to lead me away from the truck in the direction of a yearling buck about 250 yards away. I began to second guess my earlier approach of passing on bucks, and I was feeling torn. Part of me wanted to hunt more days here in this place that had become pretty special to me over the years as I harvested several antelope here, including my first big game kill with a bow. At the same time, this feeling began to form in my gut that I had let my son down by not just shooting something earlier in he day when I had the chance, and now it was almost time to go home for the week. Even though I was ready to call it a day, and was exhausted, I unloaded the side by side once again, and told my son to jump in.
As we drove through the sage covered countryside I spotted a buck a few hundred yards ahead of us near a rock pile. I told my son, "Are you okay going after that one?" He replied, "Yeah. It looks like he has good cutters." He had picked up on my lingo, and had been using this "cutters" reference quite a bit while trying to get me to go after some pretty dinky bucks. We went up the road a little more, then we got out of the side-by-side, and started toward the rocks and the buck, who's attention was fixed on another group of antelope a few hundred yards away. I drew my bow, and noticed my son's excitement. His attention was shooting between my bow and the buck. I whispered, "Watch the buck..." When I saw his attention was on the buck I concentrated on my shot sequence, and let the arrow fly. It was a well placed shot at 63 yds, and I could see the buck's hide ripple as the arrow passed through it. The buck sprinted no more than 30 yards, spun, stumbled, then hit the ground.
Right away I looked at my son to gauge his reaction. No tears. I could tell he was attempting to comprehend what he'd just witnessed. We approached the buck, and I had him touch the hide, and I really emphasized why we had to be respectful and thankful for what we'd just been given. His excitement level was through the roof! We snapped a few pictures, and as I pulled out my knife and got to work the questions starting flying! He asked if we could do a European mount for his bedroom wall, but we had to make sure we found the arrow to display in the horns, which we later found stuck in the ground! Mixed feelings became clear feelings that I had done the right thing. The best hunt of my life was over, with the high possibility that a future hunting partnership had just begun. To celebrate, we stopped at the first town we came to, and I picked up a tub of fried chicken (my son's favorite), which he ate in the back seat under the light of his headlamp until he eventually fell asleep during the long drive home.
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