Oct 14 2008
My First Time: To Fire a Rifle and Kill
My First Time to Fire a Rifle I killed a deer. I was only 12, and was just riding along with my Father during a hunt for the first time. I didn’t have a rifle of my own; my Dad had a 30-06.
The year was 1959. We were alone on a country road when my Dad spotted a Mule Deer doe and pulled off into the pasture. The doe took off running directly away from us. Dad fired. The doe turned and ran across our field of view. He fired again and she went down. I yelled, “You got him!” I think Dad was more surprised than I was.
We ran to the downed deer and Dad saw that she was “gut-shot.” He said, “We need to finish her off. Here, son, you do it.”
I didn’t know what to do. He said to aim between her eyes from a couple feet away and pull the trigger. I was scared and shaky. Her eyes were light brown and she was looking at me. Her eyes reminded me of a woman, a nun, that I knew at school: Sister Mary Jeanne. I pulled the trigger. That was my last hunt.
I have nothing against hunting or hunters. Harvesting wild game animals is a large part of the western heritage where our family has always lived. I just never anticipated the total revulsion I would experience at the kill, and later…when Dad had the deer hanging from her hind legs in the garage…when he sliced off a small piece of flesh from her thigh, bloody, raw, and told me to eat it. And he ate a piece. “This is like the Indians used to do,” he said. “Be a man!” I ate it.
Not something I would ever want to push upon any one of my three sons–none of whom turned out to be hunters.
A few years later, Dad had to sell that 30-06 to the local Coast-to-Coast hardware store for $75 so we could buy groceries. Times were tough, but I was glad to see the rifle out of the house. I never trusted my Father around guns–but that is another story completely–and one that will never be told on these pages.
I used to shoot my grandpa’s rifle at beer cans, but I never shot anything living. I’ve never liked the idea, so I wouldn’t do it. I have no issue with those that hunt to eat it. Just not for me.
We have my grandpa’s rifle, now that he’s gone. We don’t keep ammo or anything, it’s more for memory. It’s a beautiful old wooden rifle.
Good story.
~Kelly
http://www.30somethingandsearching.today.com/
I grew up around hunters, totally understand it (IF AND ONLY IF you eat what you shoot)…anyway, the point of my comment is to ask you about the gun you referred to, 30-06. I’ve heard men say they were shooting a “thirty aut six” I typed that just like they say it, so not sure aut is really a word. What does that mean? I never thought about it until I saw it in print. Just curious…
Thx,
Monica
30-06. Yes, I had to look it up to see how it was typed out in print. And I always pronounced it “ought.” The caliber of a rifle refers to the size of the “bore” through the barrel. The .30-06 refers to the .30″ (3/10’s of an inch) caliber Springfield Rifle that was first produced in 1906 (06).
Doug
I also find “a mounted trophy” to be disrespectful of the life of that animal.
Cindy, that was a cruel lesson your learned when your Dad shot that pheasant.
Shinade, I think “hunting” with a camera is the most honorable form of sport. Those are trophies that can be “mounted” in a frame. I also have to agree that overpopulation of animals result in huge “die-offs.” These tend to balance the population over a number of years, but they also feed the predator populations so grizzlies and wolves and coyotes GAIN in population.
–Retired and Restless