Some years ago, when I was trying to learn to hunt, my biggest frustration was how hard it was to find people to teach me. I didn’t grow up hunting and I found out just how hard it can be to learn as an adult, especially since I didn’t have many friends who hunted.

Things progressed rapidly for me after a couple of years, thanks to the generosity of some good friends who love to share the hunt. They’re like family now and we hunt together every chance we get. Because of their encouragement, I became inspired to share what I have learned.

I met Andy through my wife, who worked with him for a year. Like me, he doesn’t come from a hunting family but has always had a fondness for the outdoors. When he moved here from the D.C. area, he was looking for a hobby. This being Missouri, one of the greatest outdoors states, he figured hunting was a good one. (I also got him hooked on fly fishing. I am convinced that his wife hates me.)

He got an Apprentice Hunter Authorization and a Remington 870 and went with me on some bird hunts. Then he got invited to hunt deer on a nice expanse of property in St. Francois County. The regulations of his permit dictated that somebody hunt with him. Of course, I made him choose me.

On opening morning of Missouri’s firearms deer season, we walked about 600 yards along a ridge to a buddy stand overlooking a nice food plot in thick woods. The stand was very exposed, making me leery about our chances of seeing deer at a reasonable range. The plot is about 40 yards wide and visibility was good, a blessing and curse for deer hunting.

The stand proved to be good, as a little buck came into the plot an hour into our hunt. With no point restriction in the county and a green light from the property owner to take any deer we wanted, I chose to kill the spike to put meat in the freezer. He turned broadside at 35 yards, an easy shot with my .30/06. It was my first deer ever. He was not a wall-hanger but a trophy in that I finally put all I’ve learned to procure my own food.

The next morning we returned to the stand. It was Andy’s turn at a deer, but I wasn’t very cooperative. I was cold, tired and hungry. I was fidgeting like a 5-year-old cranked on sugar, trying to stay awake. I tried to calm down.

I struck my rattle bag.

A heavy-hoofed buck instantly charged from behind. Andy could see him at 45 yards but wasn’t sure about the shot. He was shooting a borrowed 7mm-08 and didn’t realize the bullet would bust though the brush. In an effort to bring him closer, I gave another rattle but the buck spooked and high-tailed out. Andy was disappointed and figure his best shot at a nice deer slipped away.

We sat another hour and I finally settled down. I nodded off a few times and then started glassing some red-headed woodpeckers behind our tree.

Andy tapped my leg.

“Big buck – big buck,” he whispered.

He was nice. Not big by row crop region standards but a reasonable shooter for the Ozark foothills.

The buck crossed the clover and wheat grass and entered the woods. That’s when Andy panicked.

He was shaking and moving, trying to get his gun mounted for a look through his scope.

“Dude, chill out.” I said softly.

I gave a grunt.

“I can’t see him.”

“He’s there, behind a tree. He’s looking right at me. Stop moving.”

It was fun to see Andy excited, but I was worried that all his movement would spook this guy, too. When Andy finally settled down and had the gun mounted, the deer took a few steps and I raised my grunt tube. He was just 45 yards out.

I damn near jumped out of the stand when Andy shot unexpectedly. I didn’t even get the call to my mouth when the deer kicked up and ran north.

Andy was shaken. He wasn’t sure about the shot and neither was I. I practically had to pin him down to keep him from getting out of the stand 30 seconds after the shot. I told him we needed to wait for a while in case the deer was wounded.

It was a tough 20 minutes. Buck fever was charging through our veins and we were shaking the way addicts do when they’re descending from their highs.

We started looking for blood in the area the buck had been standing. About 30 seconds into the search, Andy sighed and claimed he missed the deer. Then I saw the blood.

The trail was heavy and deep red. There was no sophisticated tracking, just following what looked like a red road stripe.

I found the deer behind a log. It was a clean shot with near instant results. A swift kill. Andy’s first deer.

“Thank you, deer,” Andy said as he approached him. I admired that. He was genuinely thankful for God’s blessing and the animal that gave his life.

It was then that I realized that Andy is indeed an excellent addition to our passion. And it reinforced my belief that the best way to hunt is to share it with a good friend.

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