NKQualtieri
Well-known member
Well, I got a chance to go out for the first time this fall yesterday, so I thought I'd share the story with you guys and then add on as I continue the hunt. So it’s not a “live hunt” so much as an ongoing one, but hey, semantics, right?
One of my co-workers was awesome enough to take me out dark and early yesterday morning after a few other opportunities have fallen through, and we headed out of Bozeman to a spot that is not so much a mountain hunt, but more of your riparian habitat, whitetail-in-a-field, kind of MT hunt. A fill-the-freezer type of hunt, if you will.
We pulled up to the spot, got our gear together, and started walking. The sky was just turning and a trio of deer busted us from about 400 yards away. Not a ton of cover, nothing we could do about that.
We posted up for a bit and watched a young buck walk the line of the fence toward us. Beyond the fence lines all around us were scores of whitetails. Uncountable numbers. With the river below us they were all making their way towards daybeds. The light continued to grow and shed the reality that the deer were all around us. But out of reach. The buck busted us, turned tail, and ran into the dark ether beyond another fence line.
The sun began to grow higher and the deer continued moving further and further away, the closest deer at hand were at least a quarter mile off, that was it for the morning. Walking back to the truck, my co-worker walked out to the lip of a hill--he's much taller than me so I couldn't see what he could--and said:
"Shoot that deer!" To which my response was "Right now?"
I love being caught off guard in the early am.
Anyway. The forky sat about 60 yards below us. I chambered a round, sat on my butt, and looked through my scope. He was stopped broadside the entire time I got settled in, then he began to walk. My heart was beating through my chest and it almost felt like it was moving into my rifle. I can't explain it. He was right there. But I didn't want to screw it up, or take a bad shot, and he just wouldn't get to that still broadside position again. The white flag came out for both of us and he was gone.
"It happens fast, doesn't it?" my friend said as I lowered my rifle. Holy smokes. Yes.
A few thought-provoking things on this first experience...I was really nervous prior, and it wasn’t a good kind of nervous. it was fraught with doubt and a sinking feeling that I couldn’t shake. I went out to the gun range on Saturday and I felt good about my shooting at 100 yards but not as good as I wanted to feel at 200. I didn’t know if I could pull the trigger, I didn’t know if I wanted to. I’ve been looking forward to the gutting/processing aspect but I didn’t feel that excitement at all.
So when I got up at 4:45 in the am, I began going through my morning ritual. Poured my coffee. Lifted the fog. Went to meet my co-worker. And once we started for the hills, I thought about what a successful hunt would mean.
I could write at length of the things that account for the roots of that nervousness. Like how I have never once killed an animal that I have eaten, and how that is a norm in our society. Or how there is a level of violence and death that come into play with every animal that I’ve eaten, and only now at 31 have I come around to the point where I can begin to take some responsibility for that. And that the reason that I have come to this point has been more a part of place than anything else, of living in a state where hunting is more normal and accessible than a lot of the US.
And now on the hunt for my first animal, all of this weighs heavy and is in the process of coming to fruition.
At the point where I held my crosshairs on that deer, I knew I could do it. I knew I could pull the trigger and that I would when the right opportunity hit. It’s a sense of agency I didn’t know I could have.
I am less nervous, and more anticipatory, and this upcoming weekend, I’ll try again.
And in the pattern of another illustrious HT-er, here's my one photograph from this hunt, I like that idea, it's succinct--but I couldn't find who posted it so credit is missing.
A brilliant Montana sunrise:
One of my co-workers was awesome enough to take me out dark and early yesterday morning after a few other opportunities have fallen through, and we headed out of Bozeman to a spot that is not so much a mountain hunt, but more of your riparian habitat, whitetail-in-a-field, kind of MT hunt. A fill-the-freezer type of hunt, if you will.
We pulled up to the spot, got our gear together, and started walking. The sky was just turning and a trio of deer busted us from about 400 yards away. Not a ton of cover, nothing we could do about that.
We posted up for a bit and watched a young buck walk the line of the fence toward us. Beyond the fence lines all around us were scores of whitetails. Uncountable numbers. With the river below us they were all making their way towards daybeds. The light continued to grow and shed the reality that the deer were all around us. But out of reach. The buck busted us, turned tail, and ran into the dark ether beyond another fence line.
The sun began to grow higher and the deer continued moving further and further away, the closest deer at hand were at least a quarter mile off, that was it for the morning. Walking back to the truck, my co-worker walked out to the lip of a hill--he's much taller than me so I couldn't see what he could--and said:
"Shoot that deer!" To which my response was "Right now?"
I love being caught off guard in the early am.
Anyway. The forky sat about 60 yards below us. I chambered a round, sat on my butt, and looked through my scope. He was stopped broadside the entire time I got settled in, then he began to walk. My heart was beating through my chest and it almost felt like it was moving into my rifle. I can't explain it. He was right there. But I didn't want to screw it up, or take a bad shot, and he just wouldn't get to that still broadside position again. The white flag came out for both of us and he was gone.
"It happens fast, doesn't it?" my friend said as I lowered my rifle. Holy smokes. Yes.
A few thought-provoking things on this first experience...I was really nervous prior, and it wasn’t a good kind of nervous. it was fraught with doubt and a sinking feeling that I couldn’t shake. I went out to the gun range on Saturday and I felt good about my shooting at 100 yards but not as good as I wanted to feel at 200. I didn’t know if I could pull the trigger, I didn’t know if I wanted to. I’ve been looking forward to the gutting/processing aspect but I didn’t feel that excitement at all.
So when I got up at 4:45 in the am, I began going through my morning ritual. Poured my coffee. Lifted the fog. Went to meet my co-worker. And once we started for the hills, I thought about what a successful hunt would mean.
I could write at length of the things that account for the roots of that nervousness. Like how I have never once killed an animal that I have eaten, and how that is a norm in our society. Or how there is a level of violence and death that come into play with every animal that I’ve eaten, and only now at 31 have I come around to the point where I can begin to take some responsibility for that. And that the reason that I have come to this point has been more a part of place than anything else, of living in a state where hunting is more normal and accessible than a lot of the US.
And now on the hunt for my first animal, all of this weighs heavy and is in the process of coming to fruition.
At the point where I held my crosshairs on that deer, I knew I could do it. I knew I could pull the trigger and that I would when the right opportunity hit. It’s a sense of agency I didn’t know I could have.
I am less nervous, and more anticipatory, and this upcoming weekend, I’ll try again.
And in the pattern of another illustrious HT-er, here's my one photograph from this hunt, I like that idea, it's succinct--but I couldn't find who posted it so credit is missing.
A brilliant Montana sunrise:
