My son and I went deer hunting opening weekend. Packed up and drove to south-central WA to camp out and chase mule deer for a couple of days. Weather was fine, dry and clear, getting lower 40s overnight and a high in the 60s in the afternoon. He’s old enough now to be a hunting partner in the sense of “I’ll post up here, you sneak around that-a-way and circle around over there” or “you hang out here and watch those openings, I’ll tromp through that side of things and see what I can flush out,” not just “follow me around and let’s see what we can find together.” We have shot together before, at the range and at Boomershoot, so I know he is capable of shooting reasonably well under controlled conditions.
But hunting ain’t targets. Decisions and unknowns are involved.
Saturday (opening day) at dusk, after we’ve both seen numerous does and a couple of spike bucks, in the failing light, he was posted out by himself with a 30-06 and a view parallel to an access road across a draw, a nearly 400 yards across top-to-top. He was on a patch of broken volcanic rock with clear field of view and fire, but rather uncomfortable. He saw coming out of the trees (heavy thickets of oak) a herd of does, and one large buck. But with the fading light with only a 9-power scope, at about 300 yards distance he couldn’t tell if the buck had the 3-pt minimum needed to legally shoot. After watching them for about ten minutes, he told me what he saw over the radio, he sounded like he was pretty sure he could make the shot count (no wind, good positioning and rest, comfortable estimate of the range, etc.) if he chose to take it, and the best advice I could give amounted to “light’s not getting any better. Use your best judgement and make your call, then pull the trigger or put the rifle on SAFE.” Continue reading A short hunting story