Youth Deer Tag
By Les Voth
There was never a question of not taking my oldest son hunting with his first youth deer tag, but the thought of it scared me. We rarely spent time together in the woods. When it was time to hunt deer I just went out and "made meat", as quickly as I could. For me there was no art to it, just use what you've learned in your lifetime, shoot, cut and freeze - go back to work.
Terrel's younger brother Lyle learning target alignment with an empty rifle. This is the same rifle Terrel used to harvest his first doe. When Lyle was confident he put on his earmuffs and put one in the ten ring at eighty yards.
Some years we had up to eight tags to fill, accepted gifts of more game from others, and processed it all ourselves - as fast as we could. Speed in hunting, as in other things, changes techniques. I've always sought information to streamline the getting myself into the woods, getting the animal, and putting up the product. There's nothing really religious about my hunting thoughts or methods.
As in other activities, I've sometimes floundered trying to explain what and how I did what I do, because much of it has become a "by rote" method of operation. Imagine being in the middle of a complex task, and being asked how you transferred your tenth last thought into a precision activity. You have to stop where you are, recall the thought that led to the activity, all thoughts that brought you to that point, then clearly explain something you've never articulated before.
It is my fault for not spending more time discussing the important things in life with my son, like deer hunting tips and techniques, but I'm not home much - my job takes me around the continent for weeks at a time. Then I have a few days at home, and it's back to work, and "gone again". In those few days at home, many things need to be done, along with all the fun stuff. So, excuses aside, I needed to take a twelve-year-old deer hunting with his first youth tag.
The morning of the designated day I woke up six hundred and fifty five miles from my house. This could have been a viable excuse to shelve the outing, my long-suffering son always says he understands, but I'd promised it was his day to hunt. So, I used my drive time to strategize how to get a twelve year old boy as close to a deer as possible, get him into a shooting position without flustering him, and stay out of the way of his attempt to harvest meat for our table.
The preparation for the moment of departure had been done during the summer. Terrel had been shooting the rifle he was going to use two to three times a month, for months. Although I took him out to shoot numerous times, I only allowed a few rounds each time. As an accomplished violin player Terrel is steeped in the logic of purposeful practice, so practice time with a rifle became a careful, precision seeking event.
The shots he took had to count. He had to learn rifle, scope, target alignment, and trigger control, so I didn't want him to shoot so much that he began to be affected by muzzle blast and recoil, and start forming any habits related to any perceived unpleasantness. This seemed to keep him enthused, and respectful of each exercise.
Blasting into the house less than two hours before sundown, with a half hour drive to our hunting ground, there was no time for additional lessons. This was payday. I put a blaze orange t-shirt and hat on Terrel, and my usual, unwashed, mangy pullover on myself, and headed for the woods.
My possibles bag is always packed. The only thing I might have to change is the caliber of ammo I'm carrying. The knives, ropes, sharpeners, licenses and binos live in the bag.
By Les Voth
There was never a question of not taking my oldest son hunting with his first youth deer tag, but the thought of it scared me. We rarely spent time together in the woods. When it was time to hunt deer I just went out and "made meat", as quickly as I could. For me there was no art to it, just use what you've learned in your lifetime, shoot, cut and freeze - go back to work.
Terrel's younger brother Lyle learning target alignment with an empty rifle. This is the same rifle Terrel used to harvest his first doe. When Lyle was confident he put on his earmuffs and put one in the ten ring at eighty yards.
Some years we had up to eight tags to fill, accepted gifts of more game from others, and processed it all ourselves - as fast as we could. Speed in hunting, as in other things, changes techniques. I've always sought information to streamline the getting myself into the woods, getting the animal, and putting up the product. There's nothing really religious about my hunting thoughts or methods.
As in other activities, I've sometimes floundered trying to explain what and how I did what I do, because much of it has become a "by rote" method of operation. Imagine being in the middle of a complex task, and being asked how you transferred your tenth last thought into a precision activity. You have to stop where you are, recall the thought that led to the activity, all thoughts that brought you to that point, then clearly explain something you've never articulated before.
It is my fault for not spending more time discussing the important things in life with my son, like deer hunting tips and techniques, but I'm not home much - my job takes me around the continent for weeks at a time. Then I have a few days at home, and it's back to work, and "gone again". In those few days at home, many things need to be done, along with all the fun stuff. So, excuses aside, I needed to take a twelve-year-old deer hunting with his first youth tag.
The morning of the designated day I woke up six hundred and fifty five miles from my house. This could have been a viable excuse to shelve the outing, my long-suffering son always says he understands, but I'd promised it was his day to hunt. So, I used my drive time to strategize how to get a twelve year old boy as close to a deer as possible, get him into a shooting position without flustering him, and stay out of the way of his attempt to harvest meat for our table.
The preparation for the moment of departure had been done during the summer. Terrel had been shooting the rifle he was going to use two to three times a month, for months. Although I took him out to shoot numerous times, I only allowed a few rounds each time. As an accomplished violin player Terrel is steeped in the logic of purposeful practice, so practice time with a rifle became a careful, precision seeking event.
The shots he took had to count. He had to learn rifle, scope, target alignment, and trigger control, so I didn't want him to shoot so much that he began to be affected by muzzle blast and recoil, and start forming any habits related to any perceived unpleasantness. This seemed to keep him enthused, and respectful of each exercise.
Blasting into the house less than two hours before sundown, with a half hour drive to our hunting ground, there was no time for additional lessons. This was payday. I put a blaze orange t-shirt and hat on Terrel, and my usual, unwashed, mangy pullover on myself, and headed for the woods.
My possibles bag is always packed. The only thing I might have to change is the caliber of ammo I'm carrying. The knives, ropes, sharpeners, licenses and binos live in the bag.
Youth Deer Tag
The rifle and ammo I chose for Terrel's first big game hunt was a Marlin XS7 in .243 Winchester, topped with a Bushnell Elite 2X7 power scope. It is a light outfit and shoots just inside an inch at a hundred yards. I had to shim the recoil lug and hog out the barrel channel to get it to shoot that way, but it works well now.
My reasoning for taking a twelve-year-old boy hunting his first deer with a .243, was that every kid, and woman, blessed with a .243, shoots a bigger deer than the genius that directed them to carry that caliber. These days, the argument goes, it's the ammo choice and shot placement, more than the caliber, that is important - based on the size of the game, of course.
Terrel's tag was for a doe, so I wasn't so concerned about failure to penetrate issues with a huge bodied buck, but my choice of ammo still included 100 grain Nosler Partitions.
On our drive to the woods I was wracked with uncertainty about how to handle someone who still doesn't connect his head with his feet. How will I get him to walk quietly, recognize and seek cover, move slowly without any jerky movements, and focus on the animal I'm directing him to with a minimum of motion and noise on my part.
"Don't slam the car door," I said on my way out of our carefully concealed vehicle.
"Walk on the track to reduce noise."
"Move your feet slower and don't stomp."
"Watch that flat over by the river. Sometimes there're deer sleeping there. They'll stand up if they hear us, and we'll have a second or two to shoot before they run."
I reached over and pinched the shoulder of his t-shirt and started to direct him where I wanted him to walk. This way I could also regulate his speed. Because he demonstrated a respect for my knowledge, this worked. His responses were exactly what I wanted.
When his footfalls got too noisy I whispered where to put his feet. He did.
I was amazed at the lowering of the decibel level as we crept toward where I thought the best chance was to fill his tag. My hopes of his being successful began to rise as Terrel began to mirror what I demonstrated to him, and asked him to do. In fact, halfway down the tree line we were walking, I actually began to concentrate on hunting, instead of on the fears I had brought to the field.
Peeking over a small knoll on the western edge of the trees, with a soybean field to our left, I spotted a number of deer well into the field to the north of us. Immediately, but slowly, I had Terrel get down, out of sight. I could see the deer run for cover into the trees to our right, but because we disappeared so quickly, they didn't seem extremely alarmed. They'd be back. Time to get set up for when they start filtering back out of the trees.
I got Terrel sitting, with only his head and shoulders above the crest of the knoll. From this position he could cover most of the land below us. I stayed on my knees behind him, with the brim of my hat touching the back of his head, so I could whisper instructions, but still see.
Less than ten minutes later deer were scattered over about a twenty-acre area in front of us. Then one saw the tops of our heads, and got curious. It was a mature "long nose" doe that appeared to be dry. With her head in the air, neck stretched to full length, one step at a time, she worked her way up the knoll - right at us. When she stopped at about sixty yards, I told Terrel, who had been tracking her through his scope at my direction, to shoot. A full frontal shot. It would have to be directly at the front of her chest.
After what seemed to be an eternity the rifle thundered, belching a fireball into the fading evening light. The doe stood unmoving in spite of the noise and fireball, looking directly at us. I tried to see any indication of her being hit. None. He had missed at sixty yards!
"Cycle the action slowly, but don't stop until you've got it done," I whispered. "She's still there. Still a good target. Don't quit. When you're reloaded - shoot again, right away."
He did it as well as if he'd practiced for twenty years. At his second shot she went down like she had the ground pulled out from under her.
Hugs all around. Relief, joy, satisfaction, exuberance, and just a little wood yard dance. All these things felt and expressed. We did it. No more reason to fear or worry. Meat in the freezer! The only tag we drew that year, and it was filled. There would be some proud parents, parents of parents, siblings and friends.
Terrel and his first deer, a mature doe taken with a Marlin XS7 .243 Winchester.
My reasoning for taking a twelve-year-old boy hunting his first deer with a .243, was that every kid, and woman, blessed with a .243, shoots a bigger deer than the genius that directed them to carry that caliber. These days, the argument goes, it's the ammo choice and shot placement, more than the caliber, that is important - based on the size of the game, of course.
Terrel's tag was for a doe, so I wasn't so concerned about failure to penetrate issues with a huge bodied buck, but my choice of ammo still included 100 grain Nosler Partitions.
On our drive to the woods I was wracked with uncertainty about how to handle someone who still doesn't connect his head with his feet. How will I get him to walk quietly, recognize and seek cover, move slowly without any jerky movements, and focus on the animal I'm directing him to with a minimum of motion and noise on my part.
"Don't slam the car door," I said on my way out of our carefully concealed vehicle.
"Walk on the track to reduce noise."
"Move your feet slower and don't stomp."
"Watch that flat over by the river. Sometimes there're deer sleeping there. They'll stand up if they hear us, and we'll have a second or two to shoot before they run."
I reached over and pinched the shoulder of his t-shirt and started to direct him where I wanted him to walk. This way I could also regulate his speed. Because he demonstrated a respect for my knowledge, this worked. His responses were exactly what I wanted.
When his footfalls got too noisy I whispered where to put his feet. He did.
I was amazed at the lowering of the decibel level as we crept toward where I thought the best chance was to fill his tag. My hopes of his being successful began to rise as Terrel began to mirror what I demonstrated to him, and asked him to do. In fact, halfway down the tree line we were walking, I actually began to concentrate on hunting, instead of on the fears I had brought to the field.
Peeking over a small knoll on the western edge of the trees, with a soybean field to our left, I spotted a number of deer well into the field to the north of us. Immediately, but slowly, I had Terrel get down, out of sight. I could see the deer run for cover into the trees to our right, but because we disappeared so quickly, they didn't seem extremely alarmed. They'd be back. Time to get set up for when they start filtering back out of the trees.
I got Terrel sitting, with only his head and shoulders above the crest of the knoll. From this position he could cover most of the land below us. I stayed on my knees behind him, with the brim of my hat touching the back of his head, so I could whisper instructions, but still see.
Less than ten minutes later deer were scattered over about a twenty-acre area in front of us. Then one saw the tops of our heads, and got curious. It was a mature "long nose" doe that appeared to be dry. With her head in the air, neck stretched to full length, one step at a time, she worked her way up the knoll - right at us. When she stopped at about sixty yards, I told Terrel, who had been tracking her through his scope at my direction, to shoot. A full frontal shot. It would have to be directly at the front of her chest.
After what seemed to be an eternity the rifle thundered, belching a fireball into the fading evening light. The doe stood unmoving in spite of the noise and fireball, looking directly at us. I tried to see any indication of her being hit. None. He had missed at sixty yards!
"Cycle the action slowly, but don't stop until you've got it done," I whispered. "She's still there. Still a good target. Don't quit. When you're reloaded - shoot again, right away."
He did it as well as if he'd practiced for twenty years. At his second shot she went down like she had the ground pulled out from under her.
Hugs all around. Relief, joy, satisfaction, exuberance, and just a little wood yard dance. All these things felt and expressed. We did it. No more reason to fear or worry. Meat in the freezer! The only tag we drew that year, and it was filled. There would be some proud parents, parents of parents, siblings and friends.
Terrel and his first deer, a mature doe taken with a Marlin XS7 .243 Winchester.
Youth Deer Tag
Now it was time to work. The Partition did just what it was designed to do. It entered just to the left of the deer's centerline, broke most of the ribs on that side, and exited the left quarter. Even with the end for end penetration, the only meat that was wasted was a little on the inside of the front shoulder. With the entrance being inside the shoulder, the bullet traveled internally throughout, until its exit. The bullet exited without causing any more damage than a double caliber hole you could "eat right up to".
With the deer gutted, dragged, and loaded, Terrel and I headed home in the dark.
"They're not all that easy, you know," I said.
"I know."
They don't all just walk up to you, you know."
"I know."
"Next time you can drag it out."
"Sure Dad."
"What was the difference between the first and the second shot?" I asked Terrel.
"I missed the first one!" Terrel answered, incredulous that I didn't get it.
"Yeah. I know you missed. But what was different?"
"Oh. Well, I shot too fast the first time. The second time I made sure I was lined up before I pulled the trigger," he explained.
"OK. Did you move too fast because you were excited the first time?" I was curious, partly because I've never suffered that elevated heart rate syndrome that others are victims of. When I look through a scope deciding whether to pull the trigger - I just see the work, should I connect. I'm weird that way, I guess.
Terrel admitted he shot too fast because he was excited. Then I asked him if he was excited the second time. He said he was then too, but with an unexpected twist.
Two miles from home, supper, and celebration, Terrel, having admitted excitement caused his first shot to miss, and allowing to being just excited during the second shot, calmly instructed me, "But you can control that."
Wow.
From behind my son on that knoll, I couldn't read him at all. He wasn't talking, as I instructed him. He never moved, except to articulate his wrist during reloading. He sat stock still, never giving any indication of his excitement - it was all internal.
You can take an inexperienced hunter into the woods and come out with the game you set out to find, regardless of your fears and insecurities because - you can control that.
Les Voth learned to hunt whitetail deer and coyotes in his native Canada, and has hunted both as often as possible in eastern North Dakota since immigrating to the United States.
Join the discussion of this article HERE at the Article Discussion Forum.
With the deer gutted, dragged, and loaded, Terrel and I headed home in the dark.
"They're not all that easy, you know," I said.
"I know."
They don't all just walk up to you, you know."
"I know."
"Next time you can drag it out."
"Sure Dad."
"What was the difference between the first and the second shot?" I asked Terrel.
"I missed the first one!" Terrel answered, incredulous that I didn't get it.
"Yeah. I know you missed. But what was different?"
"Oh. Well, I shot too fast the first time. The second time I made sure I was lined up before I pulled the trigger," he explained.
"OK. Did you move too fast because you were excited the first time?" I was curious, partly because I've never suffered that elevated heart rate syndrome that others are victims of. When I look through a scope deciding whether to pull the trigger - I just see the work, should I connect. I'm weird that way, I guess.
Terrel admitted he shot too fast because he was excited. Then I asked him if he was excited the second time. He said he was then too, but with an unexpected twist.
Two miles from home, supper, and celebration, Terrel, having admitted excitement caused his first shot to miss, and allowing to being just excited during the second shot, calmly instructed me, "But you can control that."
Wow.
From behind my son on that knoll, I couldn't read him at all. He wasn't talking, as I instructed him. He never moved, except to articulate his wrist during reloading. He sat stock still, never giving any indication of his excitement - it was all internal.
You can take an inexperienced hunter into the woods and come out with the game you set out to find, regardless of your fears and insecurities because - you can control that.
Les Voth learned to hunt whitetail deer and coyotes in his native Canada, and has hunted both as often as possible in eastern North Dakota since immigrating to the United States.
Join the discussion of this article HERE at the Article Discussion Forum.
