A 13 Point Buck & Fathering

It was a clear, cold fall day in Illinois. I'd never been hunting, and technically I wasn't hunting- just along for the ride. But I'll never forget the resounding boom of the shotgun that afternoon. 

A few weeks ago I started to get an itch. And now that it is firearm season for deer I am seeing numerous pictures on social media of men and the giant bucks they harvested this week. In past years I have been a hunter, but not this year- simply because finding a decent place to do so is increasingly difficult or costly. 

My first time out was an experience I'll never forget. I was in my mid 20's, visiting my in law's farm in northern Illinois. An older friend, Ken, generously offered to let me tag along while he hunted gun season for a day. I woke up before dawn and put on the borrowed camouflage coat and fluorescent orange hat and vest.

When Ken arrived we squired doe urine on the bottom of our shoes and walked out into the fields in hopes that it would lure in a motivated buck, or at least mask our scent. We sat on a cornfield all morning, and saw several deer, but they weren't close enough for an ethical shot. Nonetheless, it was magical to sit in the quiet and observe the world waking up and bustling to life. 

On our way back to the truck, late morning, the game warden stopped us. Adrenaline started pumping. Ken, in his late 40s and a lifelong hunter, had never been stopped before. We weren't breaking any laws, so we shouldn't have had anything to fear, but it appeared sketchy, as I was from out of state, wasn't hunting, and didn't have my ID on me. After confirming who I was and making sure the story checked out, he let us go. 

After lunch, we visited another farm and tried a new tactic of walking around. This is when the action really picked up. 

Late in the afternoon, we attempted to hunt a stand of trees separating two fields. I walked to one side and my friend to the other, and I was to walk through the woods to try to scare up any deer that may be nestled down in there. 

As I took about 3 steps into the trees, it sounded like a heard of elephants woke up! Chaos erupted. I couldn't see much, but I heard thrashing and running deer bolting for the field to my right. There had to have been 20 of them (probably 2). But they weren't heading in the right direction for my friend to get a shot. It was exciting, but seemed that it didn't work. 

I took 5 more steps. 

BOOMl!

I froze. The shot echoes around me. I then quickly, but carefully, ran towards the noise. My heart pounded. Did he hit it? What was it? 

Another BOOM.

As I walked up to the scene, I couldn't believe my eyes. There was Ken, shotgun in hand, standing over a huge animal. We laughed. We marveled. 

While the herd of deer had bolted out of the woods into the field, this wise old buck had instead ambled through the woods, right at my friend. If it weren't for a broken tine, the deer would have had 14 points on its antlers. Even as it lay, it was the most points my friend had shot in almost 40 years of hunting.

To say the least, I was hooked. And maybe a bit spoiled. In the 3 years to follow, I would sit on public land cornfields for hours and hours, rarely to even see a deer, let alone get a shot at one. 

After 4 years of trying, I did finally get my first deer. It was a small button buck, which simply means that his antlers were less than 1/2 inch long- small enough that I thought he was a doe when I shot him. Alone, I had to field dress him and then drag him into the back of my Honda Civic I had at the time. Yeah... I know...

The thrill of the hunt, and the crisp morning stillness of the woods, are refreshing. The holiness of watching the sun rise, the hopeful watching and waiting, and the primal and sacred act of harvesting a beautiful creature culminate to connect a man to his creator more than any church service. 

As I think back to tagging along with Ken all those years ago, I realize now that he was fathering me. I don't know how intentionally he was doing so, but it was fathering nonetheless. He showed me how to dress. He showed me how to sit, what to look for, when to shoot or not shoot. I learned different tactics that could be used. He told me stories of hunts in wild conditions (like stalking a buck through an unharvested cornfield with a bow during a blizzard!). He showed me what to do once you've gotten one.

He inspired me, invited me, and involved me. And I am forever grateful for that. 

Who are those men in your life that have fathered you? What is an activity that you would want someone to father you in? Who is someone in your life that you could inspire, invite, and involve in something you enjoy?

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Cody Buriff, Director of Resource Initiatives