Nate's First Deer

The deer hunt has always been like a holiday in my family.  From the time I was little I looked forward to going deer hunting with my Grandpa John.  Riding around in the truck or jeep eating kippered snacks and unlimited junk food would be anyone's idea of a good time, right?  As I got older he even taught me how to drive the jeep on those cold, often wet, weekends!  When I got to be a teenager, I started to enjoy spending time with the Averett Girls on opening weekend for the annual shopping extravaganza while all the boys went up the canyon.  Even though I didn't go out on opening weekend, my dad would still take me hunting on the horses after the opener.  I shot my first deer when I was about 13 or 14 and one of the first things we did was take it to see Grandpa.  When I met Nate and realized he was eager to get into hunting but hadn't had much of an opportunity, I knew we would be a good match!

The Deer Hunt of 2018 didn't start off any differently than other years.  On opening weekend Nate went to spend the weekend with my Dad and brothers, and I hung out with my mom and the girls (shopping, splurging, and spending any extra money we had).  When Nate came home late Saturday night, he was a bit disappointed remarking that they hadn't seen many deer.  Not a very surprising remark, we had noticed on our drives up the canyon that there weren't very many deer around. I reminded him that the hunt lasts all week and said that we could go out looking the following weekend.  

As the following weekend neared my dad invited us to come hunting with him on the horses Saturday afternoon.  Nate had made plans to hunt with his brother on Friday, but assured me he would be home in time on Saturday to come with us.  As I helped my dad get ready that morning, there was still no sign of Nate.  We had planned to leave around noon, and twelve o' clock came and went with no indication Nate was even close to making it home.  At about twelve thirty he finally called.  Irritated and annoyed I answered the phone and he explained they were just at the mouth of Spanish Fork Canyon and would be home soon.  I hung up, sill annoyed at his lateness, and told my dad who calmly said we could go ahead and wait for him.  Nate arrived and we were on our way.  

As we headed over to the designated area my dad wanted to hunt up Provo Canyon, the excitement of the trip began to set in.  We were going deer hunting, and even in the truck on our way up, I couldn't help but scan the hillside for the flashes of white that Grandpa John taught me long ago signified the backsides of deer.  

We arrived at the designated spot, met up with my Uncle Todd, saddled the horses, and were on our way.  One of the best parts about hunting with dad is that it often means you get to hunt on the horses.  Scanning the brilliant orange, brown, and yellow hillside that signified fall, I couldn't help but be reminded how much I love riding the horses.  It's truly amazing to be able to ride through the mountain on the back of a horse without a care in the world.  Dad and Todd settled into discussing whatever it is dad's talk about and I sat back and relaxed.  

We made good time, winding our way up the mountainside.  Passing a lot of sage brush, pine, and even rocky slopes along the way.  Each change of scenery brought me scanning once again for any movement, flash of white, or turn of a head that meant an animal was nearby.  About halfway through our ride we saw a good lucking bull elk, and stopped to take a look at him.  Even though he wasn't what we were hunting he was still a neat animal.  We continued climbing, and I noted that the terrain was getting dangerously steep.  Dad reminded Nate and I more than once that one wrong step or move, and a horse could slip off the trail, rolling to the bottom. 

After what seemed like forever, we reached the top of the mountain we were climbing.  From the top we could see down into the canyon below.  The combination of yellow, brown, and red was breathtaking up against the forrest green pine trees.  We stopped for a minute to stretch our legs and make a plan.  Dad and Todd decided that continuing to ride along the ridge line was a good idea, so without further argument we set off climbing even higher than we had before.  

As we cut across the ridge line on a game trail, the scenery opened up a bit.  Taking advantage of the open space I started to scan the area.  Directly in front of us were a group of Quaking Aspen trees or "Quaken' Ass" as Grandpa always called them.  Directly below was a small copse of pine trees about one hundred yards away.  The angle of the sun was such that the area underneath the pines was dark and shadowy.  As I squinted into the trees, something caught my eye.  At first I thought it was just a log, but the way the branches stuck up in the air was funny.  Just as I was pulling up my binoculars to see, Cassie (the horse I was riding) lurched forward.  Frustrated that nobody else had thought to stop and look in this spot.  I softly called for dad to wait.  Finally able to pull out my binoculars, I turned to the copse again.  When I finally was able to focus in on the "log", I instantly realized it wasn't a log at all, but a deer!  "It's a buck!" I said softly and jumped off of Cassie, pointing in the direction of the pine trees.  

There was a flurry of activity as I grabbed my gun and turned back to find the deer.  Dad came over and held Cassie and Tut (Nate's horse), Todd scrambled to get a hold of his horse and Dad's, and I saw Nate settle in next to me with our .270 that we bought the year after we got married.  I drew my brother Randy's .243 to my shoulder, and attempted to put my scope on the buck.  Frantic, I searched and searched, not being able to focus in the scope.  I heard Nate remark softly that he had sighted in the buck.  Then dad whispered, "He's getting up!".  

"That's a nice buck." Uncle Todd added, "Somebody needs to shoot!"

"I can't find him." I whispered, my frustration at having my brother's gun and not my own setting in for a moment, "Nate you need to shoot him!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, shoot! He's getting away." Todd added as I reaffirmed yes. 

Trying furtively to sight in the buck one last time, I heard a loud BANG!  

"I think you got him." dad remarked as the buck stumbled down the hillside, still trying to get away.  "Nate you need to get down there now!"

Everyone burst into activity once again.  Grabbing his backpack from the horse, Nate began bounding down the mountain.  As he pursued the deer, the three of us moved to find a spot to tie down the horses.  As we were backtracking across the ridge, I caught a glimpse of Nate pursuing the deer just as the deer jumped over a log.  It was the first time I saw how big the buck actually was.  I actually cried out loud for my dad to look at the size of the antlers! We promptly found a small group of trees and tied each horse up.  As we were tying up the last horse, we heard two loud BANGS again.  

"Did ya get him Nate!" Dad cried out.

"Yeah!" came the muffled reply. 

Grabbing his stuff, dad began to descend the hillside to where Nate was.  Todd volunteered to attempt to find a good route for us to use to get back to the horses, and told me to follow my dad down to Nate.  

As I approached the spot where Nate was at with the deer, I heard my dad approaching,  "Wow he's a nice one!"  

"Yeah," Nate replied, "I couldn't believe how big he was when I first walked up."

It was then that the deer finally came into view.  I counted silently one, two, three, four, five points by one, two, three, four, five, six.  The buck was a 5 by 6 point, and he was big.  Easily the biggest deer I had ever been able to see get shot.  I caught a glimpse of Nate's face and he was grinning from ear to ear.  He was as excited as I have ever seen him in that moment.  We took pictures quickly, and then Nate and Dad used what little sunlight there was left to quarter him out and gut him.  Todd came along next and working together, we began the long hike back to the horses.  

A younger version of myself might have been jealous that Nate got to shoot the deer that I originally spotted.  As I've thought about the experience in retrospect, I think the reason that it didn't bother me too much that Nate shot him and I didn't, lies simply in the fact that I have learned to enjoy the hunting experience.  As I mentioned at the beginning, I've always been around hunting.  I've been on hunt after hunt where we don't see deer and nobody gets to shoot anything. I learned from those hunts that being with the people you care about in nature is what makes hunting so enjoyable.  It's not all about shooting animals, it's about making memories. That lesson made the story of Nate's first deer one that neither of us will never forget.  The whole experience was something to remember, even if I wasn't the one to shoot the deer. Because for true hunters, shooting the animal is just one part of what makes the hunting experience so great.