Double Does

The story about my first deer with Chad Tennyson
 Late October 2011

I was beginning to think hunting curses were true and that I was the source of a bad one. As a young child I remember my dad bringing home a deer every fall, and despite my begging, he wouldn't take me with him until I could sit through a day of cold with minimal complaining. The day finally came when I was about 10 and my dad took me to his secret whitetail spot up North. Thus began the curse; not only did he not get a deer that year, but the next 3 or 4 years he took me, we came home empty handed. I even told him to go without me one year so he could actually come home with a deer. When I got my hunting license at age 14, I dismissed the big game hunting scene altogether to chase pheasants, ducks and turkeys; claiming big game hunting was just too boring. Being "cursed" and all, what was point in even trying?

In college, I met Chad Tennyson. Chad had grown up in Dillingham, Alaska hunting moose, caribou, grouse and waterfowl. He's a well rounded sportsman and very knowledgeable in all aspects of hunting. Chad and I started hunting waterfowl together and over the course of 2 years, began to kill quite a few birds. I was perfectly happy with our bird hunting endeavors and desired nothing more than to continue chasing and improving our "fowling" skills, when Chad popped the question.
"Why don't we go kill a couple deer? I've always wanted to shoot one."
I had been dreading the day my hunting partner would want more. "Oh. I suppose we could try. I've just never had very much luck at it."
"Well let's give it a go! You know a few spots, don't you?" Chad asked with an enthusiasm that was slightly contagious.
"Yes, I know where to find some whitetails. Let's do it!" I pretended to be excited, but deep down I was plagued with doubt. Hopefully my "curse" wouldn't follow us and spread to Chad.

In late October, we packed our things and headed North. West Harris and his brother Kelly joined us. They had elk tags and decided we should go to one area where there was good densities of both elk and whitetail deer. It took forever to get to the place they picked out and we were truly in the middle of nowhere.

The next day we found ourselves hiking down a steep creek bottom trail with rocky hillsides that even a big horn sheep would think twice about climbing. It looked more like goat country to me, not the rolling hills and lush vegetation of a good whitetail forest. 

After a full day of exploring the area, Chad and I both agreed that if we were to shoot some whitetail deer, we would have to go elsewhere. We split up from West and Kelly and headed back to the area where my dad used to take me. Hope crept back into us as we began to see whitetail deer on the drive approaching our area.

Chad and I set camp and schemed for the remaining 2 days of our hunt. The area my dad and I used to hunt was an old clear cut. To reach it, you had to climb up a fairly tall mountain and it sat just on the backside. It took nearly 2 hours to reach it, so naturally I wasn't chomping at the bit to go there, especially since we had seen deer right near the road. That afternoon we hunted some hillsides near camp and the following day we opted to check out some other areas close to the road. We found deer that day, but all of them were on private land. With one final day remaining, the clear cut would be our last ditch effort at harvesting a deer or two.

Chad and I were on the trail one hour before light. If it were going to take two hours to reach the clear cut, we needed to be close to it when it got light. We slowly ascended the steep trail, which hadn't changed much in the 10 years since I had last hiked it. It began to get light enough to see and we slowed our climb, scanning the forested hillsides above us for deer. We neared the top of the mountain in perfect timing; it was now light enough to see and shoot. An old logging road greeted us and we stopped for a brief moment to load our rifles and discuss our plan of attack.

"This road wraps around and meets the bottom of the clear cut." I said, swinging my hand around and ending directly in front of us, where a small trail continued to the remaining top of the mountain. "We'll take this trail to the top, where we will get a better view of the clear cut."

Chad nodded his head and we proceeded on, rifles ready.

We quickly reached the top and we could now see parts of the clear cut. We crept along slowly as we descended a trail that paralleled the clear cut. The approximate 30 acre clearing opened up before us and we halted to survey it.

"Let's sit here for a couple hours and see what pops out." I whispered to Chad, neither one of us taking our eyes off the open space in front of us.

"Sounds good. I'll get comfortable." Chad whispered back, taking off his backpack and un-shouldering his rifle.

We hadn't sat long when we heard a crash at the top of the far end of the clear cut. A cow elk thundered out of the dark forest and into the open. With a panting mouth the elk stopped momentarily in the open and turned back from where it came, assessing the status of it's pursuer. The elk didn't wait long before it continued down the clearcut and back into the dark forest below us.

"That was strange." Chad said with a quizzical look.

"I wonder what was after that elk?" I said, looking where the elk had first appeared.

We continued our sit silently hidden in the shadows, scanning the clear cut for emerging deer.

"There, on the right." Chad whispered with excitement.

"Oh, I see them!" I said, adjusting the rifle tight to my shoulder.

We watched as 5 white-tailed does emerged and began walking single file across the clearcut. I looked through the range finder and picked a spot on the trail in front of the deer.

"240 yards." I whispered, "should we each pick a deer and count to 3?"

"Yeah, we can do that." Chad said quietly looking through his scope.

"I'll take the lead doe."

"Ok, I'm on my deer."

The group paused and I centered my crosshairs on my deer. "1, 2, 3." BOOOM!

My deer didn't drop or show signs of being hit, and Chad hadn't pulled the trigger.

"I didn't quite feel steady enough," Chad said, grabbing his pack and placing his rifle on it.

"I think I missed." I said, moving into a prone position on my belly, hoping to also improve my stability.

Luckily the deer didn't bolt or seem to have any idea what was going on, and what transpired next, I'm not particularly proud of. Each time my deer stopped and I felt fairly steady, I pulled the trigger and missed. I shot 4 times as the deer walked from one side to the other and just when they were about to enter the woods on the other side of the clear cut, miraculously they turned around and began to walk back from where they came. 

I exhaled in frustration when Chad shot. BOOOM! His deer bolted down the hill and crumpled up, dead.

"Nice, Chad!" I said as loudly as I could whisper.

He handed me the backpack, "Shoot from this, you'll be more steady."

Again, the deer didn't seem to know what was going on. I steadied my rifle, this time feeling solid and as confident as possible after missing 4 shots. I placed the crosshairs on the shoulder of my deer and pulled the trigger. BOOOM! My doe hunched but remained standing. 

"I think you hit her," Chad said.

"I think you're right," I said, still peering through the scope as I watched my deer slowly begin to wobble and finally, collapse. "Wow, that was ugly. Five shots."

"Yeah...but we got 2 deer!"

After waiting a half hour, we approached our deer. The 2 deer had died about 30 yards apart. Together we dragged the two deer next to each other for a picture.

I had a moment with my deer, thanking the Lord for it's sacrifice and admiring its' beauty. We each posed with our deer.

   

Now it was time for the real work to begin. Luckily Chad was with me to show me how to process this animal. He had shot numerous moose in Alaska, which helped make short work of these 2 deer.

Chad had properly prepared by purchasing and bringing a pack frame. Chad was able to place his entire deer in a game bag and strap it to his pack. Myself on the other hand, out of doubt that we'd shoot 2 deer and not wanting to spend the money on a new pack, had only brought a large backpack. However, in that pack I brought a 15 foot length of rope. Dragging the deer would be my only option. I timber-hitched my deer and began dragging as Chad shouldered his over-weighted pack.

The pack out was long and brutal, but at least it was downhill. I continued to monitor the condition of the hide on my deer to make sure it wasn't rubbing off. Luckily the trail was mostly pine needles and ferns, providing a smooth surface for dragging. By 4pm we reached the truck entirely exhausted. By midnight we were back in Boise.

The following day was Halloween. While trick or treaters giggled through the neighborhood we were in the garage cutting up meat. Every time kids approached the house we were tempted to give the kids a true halloween scare by opening the garage, showing them butchers with knives and hunks of meat. Despite the temptation, we kept the garage closed and together with the help of my friend Kevin, we processed the 2 deer into packages of superb quality venison steaks, burger and sausage. Maybe this big game hunting wasn't that bad after all.