Herzog81
FNG
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2025
- Messages
- 5
Hi everyone,
In advanced sorry for the long winded post!
I don’t know many people who hunt, so I don’t get to share my stories all that often!
FNG here, both on the forums and hunting!
My hunting journey started about three years ago when I decided I wanted to start getting my own meat and spending more time in nature. None of my friends or family hunt, and being in my early 30’s I guess I could be considered one of those “adult onset hunters”
I ended up doing my hunter education late into the summer, and missed the draws completely. But was able to snag a doe tag on the leftover list, and from there, it took over my life lol.
Needless to say I was drinking from a fire hose, I didn’t even own a centerfire rifle yet. Fortunately the instructor in my hunter ed and I clicked, and he offered his phone number to me after the class and said “hey, if you have any questions, call me”
I realized this was a goldmine for me. We had a weekly ritual where I would research, and then I would bounce things off of him, and he would tell me whether I was hot or cold. Eventually I went into a local hardware store looking for a hunting rifle, and ended up with a left handed Ruger American gen 1 in .308 - and I truly have a love/hate relationship with that rifle.
At that time, I was solo traveling quite a bit for work, mostly to remote places, and places with a lot of public land out of state. I would bring my rifle with me, and practice shooting over and over again.
Eventually my hunting season came around, and I sent off to go hunting, wearing a $3 blaze orange vest, a pair of green jeans, and a smelly camo soft shell from the thrift store. Three days of waking up before the sun, hiking in by headlamp and posting up in a saddle hoping to catch something moving from feeding to bedding. And eventually one evening right before last light some does appeared and walking right towards me, I was not prepared. And had to crawl across a boulder to get a shot set up, waiting for the does to drop their heads to graze before moving. They closed the gap from 80 yds to 15yds quicker than I was expecting. Right before I brought my rifle up in a sitting position, I felt the wind change, starting to blow down the mountain, and one of the does started snorting. And inhaling deeply. The gig was up for me, and I watched them take off stotting. My heart was pounding, right there it (hunting) clicked for me.
Fast forward a couple more days, and I was back out there, working the same saddle, this time with a plan to get on the other side before the wind flipped in the evening. And to still hunt my way out, the sunset was near and it was time to start heading out. On my way back, I found them. Making their way back through. I ditched my pack (think Jansport), and started slowly setting up. The brush and grass was tall where I was, so I propped the rifle against a tree and started watching them through my scope. They were moving through the edge of timber. I was waiting for a clean shot - my legs were shaking, but I kept my rifle stable. Last light was approaching and the doe I had my sights on was about to move down in elevation out of sight into thick timber. I flicked my safety off, and the doe step forward exposing a clean broadside shot. I did a short “whistle”, she stopped in her tracks and I pulled the trigger.
They all took off running, and immediately I was like “well there’s no way I could have made that shot…” but I know that since I had pulled the trigger. I was going to spend hours circling out where I had last seen the deer, looking for any evidence of blood or sign.
So I chambered another round, put the rifle on safe, and marked where I had taken the shot incase I got disoriented. It was dark at this point, so I put on my headlamp. I started circling where I had last seen the deer. There is was. Blood. I ended up following the blood trail, and about 30 yds away, there she was. Balled up! A huge rush of emotions came flooding in - disbelief, shame, pride, all of it.
I brought a book with me that had a section on how to field dress. I got that book out and was trying to figure out how to field dress. I ended up texting my mentor from the Hunter Ed that I got one, and he offered to come out and help me. “If that’s not an issue for you, please” was my response
I began field dressing, but it was not going well, eventually he had shown up and walked me through it. We got the deer out, and took it to his garage where he taught me how to process the meat from start to finish.
I was ecstatic to find that I had a clean shot. Roughly 90yds, double lung and heart.
Now I’ve been hunting for the last three years, mule deer and the small game species.
I’m hooked.
If you’ve made it this far in my story, thanks lol. I’m happy to find this community it’s been very knowledgeable.
Cheers
In advanced sorry for the long winded post!
I don’t know many people who hunt, so I don’t get to share my stories all that often!
FNG here, both on the forums and hunting!
My hunting journey started about three years ago when I decided I wanted to start getting my own meat and spending more time in nature. None of my friends or family hunt, and being in my early 30’s I guess I could be considered one of those “adult onset hunters”
I ended up doing my hunter education late into the summer, and missed the draws completely. But was able to snag a doe tag on the leftover list, and from there, it took over my life lol.
Needless to say I was drinking from a fire hose, I didn’t even own a centerfire rifle yet. Fortunately the instructor in my hunter ed and I clicked, and he offered his phone number to me after the class and said “hey, if you have any questions, call me”
I realized this was a goldmine for me. We had a weekly ritual where I would research, and then I would bounce things off of him, and he would tell me whether I was hot or cold. Eventually I went into a local hardware store looking for a hunting rifle, and ended up with a left handed Ruger American gen 1 in .308 - and I truly have a love/hate relationship with that rifle.
At that time, I was solo traveling quite a bit for work, mostly to remote places, and places with a lot of public land out of state. I would bring my rifle with me, and practice shooting over and over again.
Eventually my hunting season came around, and I sent off to go hunting, wearing a $3 blaze orange vest, a pair of green jeans, and a smelly camo soft shell from the thrift store. Three days of waking up before the sun, hiking in by headlamp and posting up in a saddle hoping to catch something moving from feeding to bedding. And eventually one evening right before last light some does appeared and walking right towards me, I was not prepared. And had to crawl across a boulder to get a shot set up, waiting for the does to drop their heads to graze before moving. They closed the gap from 80 yds to 15yds quicker than I was expecting. Right before I brought my rifle up in a sitting position, I felt the wind change, starting to blow down the mountain, and one of the does started snorting. And inhaling deeply. The gig was up for me, and I watched them take off stotting. My heart was pounding, right there it (hunting) clicked for me.
Fast forward a couple more days, and I was back out there, working the same saddle, this time with a plan to get on the other side before the wind flipped in the evening. And to still hunt my way out, the sunset was near and it was time to start heading out. On my way back, I found them. Making their way back through. I ditched my pack (think Jansport), and started slowly setting up. The brush and grass was tall where I was, so I propped the rifle against a tree and started watching them through my scope. They were moving through the edge of timber. I was waiting for a clean shot - my legs were shaking, but I kept my rifle stable. Last light was approaching and the doe I had my sights on was about to move down in elevation out of sight into thick timber. I flicked my safety off, and the doe step forward exposing a clean broadside shot. I did a short “whistle”, she stopped in her tracks and I pulled the trigger.
They all took off running, and immediately I was like “well there’s no way I could have made that shot…” but I know that since I had pulled the trigger. I was going to spend hours circling out where I had last seen the deer, looking for any evidence of blood or sign.
So I chambered another round, put the rifle on safe, and marked where I had taken the shot incase I got disoriented. It was dark at this point, so I put on my headlamp. I started circling where I had last seen the deer. There is was. Blood. I ended up following the blood trail, and about 30 yds away, there she was. Balled up! A huge rush of emotions came flooding in - disbelief, shame, pride, all of it.
I brought a book with me that had a section on how to field dress. I got that book out and was trying to figure out how to field dress. I ended up texting my mentor from the Hunter Ed that I got one, and he offered to come out and help me. “If that’s not an issue for you, please” was my response
I began field dressing, but it was not going well, eventually he had shown up and walked me through it. We got the deer out, and took it to his garage where he taught me how to process the meat from start to finish.
I was ecstatic to find that I had a clean shot. Roughly 90yds, double lung and heart.
Now I’ve been hunting for the last three years, mule deer and the small game species.
I’m hooked.
If you’ve made it this far in my story, thanks lol. I’m happy to find this community it’s been very knowledgeable.
Cheers
), member.
