Well I have not had the chance to hunt whitetail, so I'll share my first pronghorn hunt.

My Dad, Brother, and I got up way before dawn and headed out to a spot that my dad had picked out. When we arrived it was still pitch black, but as the sun started to crest upon the horizon i could see that Dad had placed us on the top of a ridge opening across a wide basin. As the light started to come on you could see the white flanks of many pronghorns in the basin. (By the way, I was once on a high school field trip and one of the girls on the bus jumped up and pointed out the window and said "LOOK AT THE WHITETAIL!!". I knew there were no whitetail in that part of CO, so I whirled around and plastered my face to the window. They were lopes and I laughed my a$$ off. Unfortunately to this day I cannot look at a whitetail or a lope w/o remembering that incident....)

Anyway, we started stalking in toward the main group slipping down the slope trying to keep a main finger of a ridge between us and the lopes.

As we got closer we would poke our heads over the ridge or brush to get an idea of where the herd was and what they were up to. It was amazing. They had no clue we were in the area (wind was favorable) and were running around. The bucks would sometimes "sprint" between pockets of the group. If you haven't seen a pronghorn sprint, that is something you need to see sometime.

Anyway by about 9-9:30 we had worked ourselves within 75-100 yards of the main group and were just inside this ridge. We were preparing to go around the ridge and get closer, when out of nowhere another group of lopes came around the opposite side of the ridge and were no more than 25-40 yards away! You could hear there feet stamping as they rounded the ridge and I about jumped out of my skin at their suprise appearance.

There were probably 12-20 head in this new group and when they came around the ridge they did not see us (we hit the deck behind some brush), but they did smell us instantly. They stopped dead and their heads were looking around to spot "that strange scent" (the wind was not in our favor). Before they bolted I popped up and picked a female and shot.

Opening day, one stalk, and done by noon. Some years you just get lucky....

[ This Message was edited by: bitmasher on 2003-08-19 23:22 ]

I got my first whitetail when I was 12 in Minnesota. Since I was young and prone to get lost in the coulees and ravines in the area, my job was to be one of the standers in a party hunt.

It just before Thanksgiving, and pretty cold. There were 4-5 inches of snow on the ground as I worked my way to the bottom of the ravine with my 20 ga Model 11 and waited alone among the deadfalls with as much patience as someone that age can muster.

I'd been there long enough for my fingers and toes to start to tingle when I heard the sound of something quickly moving toward me along the bottom. About the time it dawned on what I was hearing, a doe came around the bend headed straight for me. There was a moment of disbelief that a deer had actually appeared, and I stood there with my jaw hanging open until I remembered what I was supposed to do. By that time my chest was pounding, my hands were shaking, and I had the worst case of tunnel vision you could imagine. As I raised the shotgun the deer hesitated at the motion in front of her, and I snapped off the shot at about 25 yards the moment the stock hit my shoulder.

She went down immediately, and I mentally patted myself on the back for being the mighty hunter. But then as I walked up and cleared the deadfall between us, there she was lying on the ground looking straight at me with the most horrid expression of fear and accusation. I wasn't expecting that. I was so shaken up that I missed at the first attempt to finish the job, and then finally succeeded with the second.

I felt terrible about it, but learned something valuable that day: since then I've never taken a shot unless I had a solid sight picture, and every deer since has been a one-shot kill.

[ This Message was edited by: expatriate on 2003-08-20 19:06 ]

I was 13 and living in florida when my Dad called me and said he was proud of me getting all A's on my report card so he said I have a gift for you i was all shaking what could it be. He said I got you a ticket to come up to Nebraska for your very fist deer hunt with me. I was so happy that i was goin to hunt with my dad because he never let me shoot just sit in the stand with him. So come season i flew into Nebraska to shoot my first deer ever. That night i didnt get any sleep at all i just looked at the wall thinking how i was so lucky then the morning came it was time to go. I saw a bunch of deer that morning but i didnt want them they just where not what i wanted to small but night time came soon and me and my dad decided to sit on a hill and wait its snowin out and we are cold but then a big doe walked out i said she is the one i took aim with my dad's 300 win mag and shot, the gun kicked me good so i didnt know if i hit i did one shot and she droped. It was only a Doe but it was my doe me and my dad took it together so i was happy. Just then our friend came flyin over the hill he also took a deer but he was shakin hard so we went to help him and freaked he had takin a 185 class nontypical buck that was huge. That was the best night of my life I spent it with my dad and a great friend.

I remember my first kill like it was just a few hours ago, can even still smell the woods as I write this. I was 9 years old (40 now) and it was early morning, gray, cloudy, still wind and still warm for Dec.I live in Fla. My Dad and his hunting party Dog hunted on a large timber company owned trac of land in Northwest Florida. Swampy, with huge stands of pine trees in between the TiTi swamps. I rode with my dad as we tracked all night long. Just before sunrise after a short break to eat some honey buns and drink some coffee in my milk, the others in the hunting party started to arrive or calling on the CB radio. We had found some really good tracks in the early pre dawn hours and the men all got together and decided which ones to put the hounds onto and in which order. It was decided that my dad and our walker hound named "Dobie" would be the best choice to start the hunt off since Dobie was the best wet trail trail dog anyone had. So dad and I went to the tracks we had found earlier that was decided to be the best choice for a nice buck and waited for the others to get into position. When everyone called in ready my dad put Dobie and another dog named Lady onto the trail. They both picked up on it fast on off they went, still no barking yet though, just trailing. After dad let the dogs loose he laid his remmington 760 30.06 pump rifle on the dog box in the back of the truck beside where I was sitting finishing my milk coffee and he went to the front of the truck to relieve himself of a few cups of coffee.No sooner than his fly on his pants went down a very nice 6 point buck stepped out of the woods onto the dim road no more than 20 yards away from the back of the truck and stopped and just stared at us. I about wet my pants as I whispered to dad that there was a deer in the road. I dont think he fully believed me cause he didn't even look as he said " well son, get the gun and shoot him". Be minded that I am only 9 years old and did what I was told. I picked up the rifle and proceded to empty it on that Buck. Dad jumped and fell back against the truck at the first shot and ran to the back where I was as I finished the other 4 shots. Snatching the rifle from me he was standing there with wet pants breathing harder than I was, staring at me trying to get a word in as I was yelling and dancing excitedly ontop of the dog box. Finally he asked " what the hell was I shooting at?" I jumped down and ran to the deer laying just off the road. He took about 2 good leaps after the first shot and went down with a clean shot thru the heart after which I finished empting the clip into the ground around him in my excitement. Needless to say I was the big boy of the rest of the hunting season even being asked to ride with some of the other men. 9 years old, small bread basket 6 point, felled with one perfectly placed excited shot. Funny...I still feel that same excitement whenever I kill or photo a nice buck to this very day.

That's pretty good, JTapia. If the coffee didn't wake your Dad up, I'm sure the sudden BLAMP BLAMP did!

My first big game was a small white tail buck (spike) I was fourteen years old and was huning in my grand ma apple orchard in south central ky, 1968. I was using a single shot 20 ga. with buckshot. I got buck fever so bad I shoulder the gun and forgot to cock the hammer, then managed to press the break lever and eject the unfired shell, had to reload and still got a shot and got the buck.

I can still remember my first kill, It was a cold November evening in Northern Ontario, I was just sitting and waiting and hoping that i'd see somethin whe I saw right infront of me an 8 point buck that was in the middle of the path. As my jaw dropped in excitement i grabbed my 30-30 and took a shot and right there the buck dropped to the floor.After fireing the shot my grandfather came running, i'll never forget my first kill.

I remember myfirst first big game kill, considering it was just 8 years ago. I was 12 years old and was hunting deer here in VA and it was my very first day ever hunting big game. I was in a treestand back to back with my dad. It was about 10:30 and we hadn't seen any deer so my dad said he was going to get down and circle around the ridge to our right and see if you couldn't push something to me. He hadn't been gone for 15 min. and i heard something to my right. I saw a deer running down the ridge and could tell it was a buck. He trotted towards me and stopped about 40 yards right in front of me. One shot from my Mossberg 500 20 ga. was all it took. It turned out to be a small 3 point. The following year I took a doe the very first day I ever hunted with a muzzeloader and the year after that I missed a doe the first day I ever bow hunted. Almost had a perfect streak.

Well, I was a late starter. I didn't start getting into hunting until after I was out of the Army. Spending a few years in the desert will definitely make you appreciate the woods....belive me!
I was 23 when I killed my first deer. I was hunting with two buddies of mine who were "veteran" hunters themselves. We were hunting on a small 50 acre farm in Northeastern KY. It was the perfect setup though. We had a nice, big barn to stay in. Concrete floor, wood burning stove, couches, cots, and plenty of beer, water, and food. The almost "ideal" hunting adventure for a new hunter.
It was a cold and snowy November morning during KY gun season. What a perfect morning that was!! The snow was one of those heavy snows that dropped from the sky as slow as molasses with flakes as big as silver dollars. I was using a borrowed 30.06 but at 23, I was as excited as a 12 year old kid on his first hunt!
I got in my tree stand and for the first hour or so I just sat and admired the beauty of the snow covered wilderness. What an awesome site! I almost forgot I was there to hunt! A couple of hours into the hunt I heard some rustling behind me. I sat as still as I could while my heart was pounding a mile a minute. I was having a hard time controlling my breathing. The sound got louder and louder....closer and closer...I slowly turned around to see...........a bunch of wild turkey. It was kind of bittersweet. I was disappointed it not being a deer yet still seeing diverse wildlife made the morning even better. As I watched the flock of turkey slowly move out of site, I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I looked to my left and there he stood. It took me a second to actually realize what I was seeing! I remembering saying under my breath...."it's a buck!". I then had to compose myself. I tried to remember everything my buddies had told me. "Control your breathing and take your time." I raised the rifle, put the scope on his right shoulder and fired! Then something very unexpected happened. The deer didn't flinch!!! It didn't fall or run or even raise it's head!! It just kept on browsing like nothing had happened. I panicked. "Did I miss?" I asked myself. "I couldn't have missed...it was a perfect shot!! I did everything right!" I thought to myself. Nonetheless, I quickly chambered another round, raised the gun and made a hurried shot before the deer took off and my chances of getting a deer that morning would be gone! After the second shot the deer did the same thing!!! AGAIN! Like nothing had happened! At this point, total frustration had set in. I couldn't believe I had missed this deer......twice...and at less than 100 yards! Just as I got ready to chamber my 3rd round the deer took two more steps and fell.......DEAD! "Wha?? Wha?? What just happened?" I was confused. I gave him a few mintues to see if I could find any movement at all. There was nothing. My buddies had heard the shot and came strolling down the hill. I got out of my tree stand and yelled up to them "HEY! It's a buck!". We met just a few yards later at my downed deer. Yep. It was dead alright. I told them my story and we examined the deer. We examined it to only find one entry and one exit wound.....right on the shoulder where my first shot had hit! After we dressed the deer, we found that the bullet had hit him square in the heart. A clean shot. Our assumption was that it was, in fact, my first shot that killed him. My second shot completely missed probably due to panic and excitement.
I have yet to see a deer react like that after being shot. It still amazes me that these animals can have that kind of Stanima! Up to this point, my first hunt has been the most exciting hunt I've been on yet. I'll never forget that day.....and never thank my buddies enough for getting me into this great sport!

By the way.....it was only a 5 point buck but it had a heavy body and the main beams were actually very thick! I still think a decent deer for your first deer