As a father of five kids ranging from 8 to 23 years old, I’ve been introducing them to hunting after they turn 6 years old by taking them with me. Now, four of my kids all want to go hunting every year.
September 22, 2013, was a special day when my daughter Madison took her first deer. We were in Washtenaw County in Saline, Mich. Our hunt started at 4 p.m., and I was feeling like a proud father.
After we got dressed, Madison asked me to take a picture of her, so she had proof for her friends that she went hunting for her first time. She was dressed in my old hunting clothes, much too big for her, and her hunting boots were blue with sparkles.
For the most part, I’m a bow hunter, but if I haven’t filled my tags by gun season I go out with my faithful muzzleloader. I only take my kids out during bow season, but two years ago Michigan opened hunting with a crossbow to anyone. This was good news because three of my kids, including Madison, haven’t built enough muscle to shoot a bow that can kill a deer.
The excitement started as we walked to our stand. I had to help Madison hold up her pants since her hands were filled with the youth crossbow.
Finally, we were situated in our two-person, 20-foot ladder stand, sitting over a soybean field. I explained to her which way the deer usually come in, but while we were sitting there, Madison leaned into her arms and fell asleep.
She did this twice, and I woke her up both times with my deer calls.
At about 6 p.m. while a squirrel was going up and down his tree gathering leaves and patching his nest, Madison kept thinking it was a deer. We were entertained by that squirrel before he was satisfied with his work and stayed in his nest.
Then I heard deer moving an hour later and told her to get ready.
“Aww, Dad, it’s just the squirrel again,” she said. I told her to pay attention and look to our left, where I was expecting the deer to come in.
Then I spotted the first deer, a fawn without spots from what we could tell. I told her to hold off, because more would come. Next, a big doe came in, and after that, the Big Mama of does arrived. I told Madison that was shooter if we got the chance.
We heard a noise from the right and saw a 6-pointer walking toward the does as if they were in heat. I told Madison to wait and see if I could stop him. I made three attempts with my deer bleat and each time I did, the buck turned straight toward us.
Then Big Mama moved toward our way. I told Madison to wait until I could check the distance with my rangefinder.
The first time, I ranged her at 50 yards. I told Madison that was too far. Other does were starting to come within range, but the buck stayed further out after being spanked by Big Mama. Finally, walked to within 30 yards and stood perfectly broadside.
Madison asked me what she should do. I told her she could shoot or wait to see if the buck would come in. I also explained that Big Mama was a trophy by doe standards, and it was her call.
Madison said she wanted to take the shot. It was now 7:50 p.m, and we had about 25 minutes of daylight left when she let her crossbow bolt fly. From how I saw the deer react, I knew the bolt had struck home.
Madison wasn’t as confident. “I don’t know, Daddy. I hit the soybean right in front of her.”
I told her she did a fine job and not to worry. That bean stalk was right against the deer’s side.
Then Madison yelled and started to shake. “I did it!”
All hunters know the feeling as it sinks in. It’s that “I just shot my first trophy” adrenaline rush. Of course, for most of us, that same feeling comes back every time we take a deer.
After we got down and tracked her prize, we learned Madison was right. She nailed the soybean stalk, and it was lodged in the doe’s side as the bolt passed through. The next thing we noticed was how big she was. Big Mama weighed 180 pounds field-dressed.
I am a lucky dad with a fantastic new hunter for a daughter. She says she can see why I love bowhunting, and she plans on doing it as much as she can.