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Sat out in the permanent box blind with my adult son. First day of rifle/shotgun season here. Put him on the side where the deer usually come in about 30 yards out, moving from south to north most evenings. The usual herd of 8 to 12 does and associated immature offspring showed up on my side moving from north to south 150 yards out. Quite unusual. 30 minutes after they left, this 9 point buck walked out on my side about 50 yards from me after staring at me from the scrub for 10 minutes. He never fully stopped but it was a short putt to put a .308 round just behind his ear for a clean kill. We’re meat hunters, but thought I might not want to mess up the skull on this one. Didn’t think to get a decent picture. Son took this one right after I dumped him out of the loader bucket back at the shop.
Would have preferred my son got him, but that’s how it goes sometimes. It isn’t huge by any means but it’s pretty good size for what we usually have here so I might do a European mount with it. I’ve done one before and it turned out well. Recall it being tedious and kind of nasty but not exactly rocket science. Just blow the raw brains out with an air compressor and remove the soft tissue after a good boil with some soda ash in the water. Last one cost me about $15 and a full days labor, I still have the bone bleach so might have an additional $0 to for another one. Need to remember where the giant pot got to. Even though I don’t hunt for horns it seems a shame to toss that rack out with the gut pile. I did warn the spousal unit there’s a frozen deer head in the spare chest freezer. That got me a good eye roll.
Got to thinking while we were dressing him out, I’ve dressed out and final processed dozens of deer. Enough that I’ve lost count. I’ve killed a total of three. A big cow horn at 400 yards on a buddy’s farm nearly 30 years ago, a big enough to shoot but not by much 4 pointer with crossbow earlier this year, and this one.
I helped my father hunt as he got older. He got three bucks the last season before he passed. In the beginning he’d share some meat with us and didn’t want much help, nor did he really need help. By the last couple seasons, he’d check the game cams I set up, ride his four wheeler to a ground blind I set up, and call me when he had one down. I’d run down with a tractor to get it. Then he’d watch me dress it out and apologize for not being able to help while also making sure I did everything right. We split the meat 50/50 and he still enjoyed hunting so it was a good deal for both of us.
My father never allowed me to hunt on the property owned by the trust where he lived adjacent to me. He and I were co-equal trustees but it was all originally his and of course the trust was just for business purposes so I never pushed it and didn’t even ask why. Figured if that’s the way he wanted it, it was his prerogative.
He didn’t want my son to hunt there either but I got pretty sideways with him about not letting his only grandson hunt while he let a neighbor take 6 a year before he even took one for himself and shamed him into it. I helped my son hunt from the time he was a kid until now. He’s killed many more deer than I have even though I’ve been sitting beside him for probably half of them. We split that meat 50/50 with dad as well. My father was always proud of him when he got something but didn’t want any part of teaching him anything about weapons or hunting.
I guess the point of all that is hunting has always been a weird dynamic in my family. Might not even do it, but white tail deer are made out of really delicious meat, so…