Jstocks
Expert
So I made a post with a picture recently about my daughter killing a 7 pt with my Dad’s Ruger 44 Carbine. This is actually the reason I want to get one of my own just to have. Here it goes, I’ll text to make it short enough and get the meaning of this event across.
I do ask for some leeway here for the guys and let’s not belittle the method and get the heart of the story I’m wanting to share.
I grew up hunting in a family of dog hunters. Our way was no different than many others in our area, and over time it evolved from what it was when my Dad killed his first buck in 1970’s in the Pearl River swamps on the Ms/La state lines. Lots of fellowship and community shared on hunting trips. Lots of kids have seen their only opportunities in life to learn the woods from either my Dad or my Grandpa and their attitude of the more the merrier, and willingness to share hunts with kids who just otherwise wouldn’t get to go due to various reasons.
Over time, we’ve all seen the bigger parcels around us shrink. Along with that, game cameras, tv shows, hunts measured in inches on a wall rather than experience, and the spread of selfishness in our sport has really separated the community and social aspects that used to be at the heart of Southern Deer hunting.
My family has a long history of hunting with the 44’s. My Dad and grandpa both have them and even though they have fancier rifles that will shoot further and are more effective, this has always been what they’ll reach for.
As I’ve grown up and moved around for work, I find it harder and harder every year to make time for getting to the camp with my Dad. I truly love the dogs and I know he looks forward to the season all year. He loves his dogs and I don’t know anyone that treats their hunting dogs with more care. My kids have grown up around this and even though we don’t live that lifestyle, (for those who know a true hound hunter, it is a year around lifestyle), we still try to make time every year for it.
My Dad had some tests done recently and I had a bad feeling I knew what the outcome was going to be. Heavy hearted with this, I told my oldest daughter we absolutely had to make some time to go spend with him at the camp. I wanted to get her out of school but she had too many tests and obligations, so we left Saturday morning at 3:30 am to drive to central Ms and meet Dad at the meeting spot for the morning plan. As we pulled up everyone was around and we said our hellos and quickly got ready as it was nearing 8 am and they were getting the morning lined up to make the first run.
I’ve always been lucky, and several of the guys prodded me a little about how we’d kill one and such. I just laughed it off looking forward to riding with Dad and fooling with his dogs. 3 generations in the truck, just enjoying the weekend before I had to go back to South America for work for a month.
We had some good activities the first day and my daughter had several close calls but just couldn’t react fast enough to get a shot. We had steaks with my Dad and Uncle and his lady friend at their new camp that they had put on some land they purchased a few years before.
Sunday morning was nice and we had a nice sit on the edge of a cutover while some dogs trailed below us. They eventually went north and we walked out to talk to Dad who was on the next stand and he was observing two dogs who were trailing still down below us. As we were standing there, I had told my daughter to stand to the side of me and him in case a deer came. We were watching the dogs and listening to them as they only trailed every minute or two on a cold track.
As we stood there, my Dad was kidding with my daughter and said “if a buck comes I want to hear that 44 go “BANG, ‼️ BANG” and at that time a buck that had been laying in a brush pile the whole time jumped up a 100 yards from us and was running across in front of us. We both started telling her to shoot, and I think she was froze. I had the deer in my scope and I told her to shoot at least 3 times before I finally tried him just as he was getting out of where we could see him good in the sage. At first we thought I had got him, but no blood and found his track crossing the road.
The next run, she and I had to maneuver a bit to get to a spot where the dogs were coming. This time, I told her where to get so she could see a little saddle that I knew they liked to cross. It was perfect weather and raining some so the dogs could smell good and they were really running this deer. I watched from 75 yards back as she did exactly as I had taught her and hid well so when the deer come through, he wasn’t paying attention to her at all. She had 4 good shots on him at about 50 yards, and she hit him once with my Dad’s 44 Ruger Carbine.
After a bit of excitement, we got her deer in the creek and the guys whose dogs it was helped us get him out. We picked my Dad up who had been driving the dogs, and everyone was all smiles. Sure he was a small 7 point, and a lot of hunters even would ask why shoot him, he’s young, etc….
I don’t measure memories in inches of antlers and he was plenty big enough to provide a special moment for all of us. That is what truly should ultimately matter to the hunter.
It was a long ride home after cleaning the deer, but dang well worth the time spent. We got home after midnight, and she slept in then got up to school late. My Dad had to drive home to an equal 4 hour drive, because he had a Dr appointment the next day and it confirms what I expected. There’s a recovery in front of him, and we will be there for him, but I hope it’s the memories like we have and the drive to have more of them that motivates him to help fight whatever battles we have in front of him during this time.
Spend time with your family and the ones you love. None of us are promised tomorrow, except through God’s Son. In that game, inches of antlers don’t matter.
I do ask for some leeway here for the guys and let’s not belittle the method and get the heart of the story I’m wanting to share.
I grew up hunting in a family of dog hunters. Our way was no different than many others in our area, and over time it evolved from what it was when my Dad killed his first buck in 1970’s in the Pearl River swamps on the Ms/La state lines. Lots of fellowship and community shared on hunting trips. Lots of kids have seen their only opportunities in life to learn the woods from either my Dad or my Grandpa and their attitude of the more the merrier, and willingness to share hunts with kids who just otherwise wouldn’t get to go due to various reasons.
Over time, we’ve all seen the bigger parcels around us shrink. Along with that, game cameras, tv shows, hunts measured in inches on a wall rather than experience, and the spread of selfishness in our sport has really separated the community and social aspects that used to be at the heart of Southern Deer hunting.
My family has a long history of hunting with the 44’s. My Dad and grandpa both have them and even though they have fancier rifles that will shoot further and are more effective, this has always been what they’ll reach for.
As I’ve grown up and moved around for work, I find it harder and harder every year to make time for getting to the camp with my Dad. I truly love the dogs and I know he looks forward to the season all year. He loves his dogs and I don’t know anyone that treats their hunting dogs with more care. My kids have grown up around this and even though we don’t live that lifestyle, (for those who know a true hound hunter, it is a year around lifestyle), we still try to make time every year for it.
My Dad had some tests done recently and I had a bad feeling I knew what the outcome was going to be. Heavy hearted with this, I told my oldest daughter we absolutely had to make some time to go spend with him at the camp. I wanted to get her out of school but she had too many tests and obligations, so we left Saturday morning at 3:30 am to drive to central Ms and meet Dad at the meeting spot for the morning plan. As we pulled up everyone was around and we said our hellos and quickly got ready as it was nearing 8 am and they were getting the morning lined up to make the first run.
I’ve always been lucky, and several of the guys prodded me a little about how we’d kill one and such. I just laughed it off looking forward to riding with Dad and fooling with his dogs. 3 generations in the truck, just enjoying the weekend before I had to go back to South America for work for a month.
We had some good activities the first day and my daughter had several close calls but just couldn’t react fast enough to get a shot. We had steaks with my Dad and Uncle and his lady friend at their new camp that they had put on some land they purchased a few years before.
Sunday morning was nice and we had a nice sit on the edge of a cutover while some dogs trailed below us. They eventually went north and we walked out to talk to Dad who was on the next stand and he was observing two dogs who were trailing still down below us. As we were standing there, I had told my daughter to stand to the side of me and him in case a deer came. We were watching the dogs and listening to them as they only trailed every minute or two on a cold track.
As we stood there, my Dad was kidding with my daughter and said “if a buck comes I want to hear that 44 go “BANG, ‼️ BANG” and at that time a buck that had been laying in a brush pile the whole time jumped up a 100 yards from us and was running across in front of us. We both started telling her to shoot, and I think she was froze. I had the deer in my scope and I told her to shoot at least 3 times before I finally tried him just as he was getting out of where we could see him good in the sage. At first we thought I had got him, but no blood and found his track crossing the road.
The next run, she and I had to maneuver a bit to get to a spot where the dogs were coming. This time, I told her where to get so she could see a little saddle that I knew they liked to cross. It was perfect weather and raining some so the dogs could smell good and they were really running this deer. I watched from 75 yards back as she did exactly as I had taught her and hid well so when the deer come through, he wasn’t paying attention to her at all. She had 4 good shots on him at about 50 yards, and she hit him once with my Dad’s 44 Ruger Carbine.
After a bit of excitement, we got her deer in the creek and the guys whose dogs it was helped us get him out. We picked my Dad up who had been driving the dogs, and everyone was all smiles. Sure he was a small 7 point, and a lot of hunters even would ask why shoot him, he’s young, etc….
I don’t measure memories in inches of antlers and he was plenty big enough to provide a special moment for all of us. That is what truly should ultimately matter to the hunter.
It was a long ride home after cleaning the deer, but dang well worth the time spent. We got home after midnight, and she slept in then got up to school late. My Dad had to drive home to an equal 4 hour drive, because he had a Dr appointment the next day and it confirms what I expected. There’s a recovery in front of him, and we will be there for him, but I hope it’s the memories like we have and the drive to have more of them that motivates him to help fight whatever battles we have in front of him during this time.
Spend time with your family and the ones you love. None of us are promised tomorrow, except through God’s Son. In that game, inches of antlers don’t matter.
