Nailed my first buck

I went hunting right before Thanksgiving with my Dad and a few of his buddies, and I nailed my first buck. It had a decent rack, too, as you can see, which is going on my wall.

It was comical. First day of deer hunting season in Nebraska, and we're standing in the dark before the sun rose, very cold. It only took 45 minutes or so, in broken light, to see a buck, stupid on hormones, chasing a doe. She tear off and run away, and he'd chase. We could see them gallivanting around, but they were too far away to shot. So we watched.

After 15 minutes of horseplay (which also allowed the light to improve) they scurried closer to us. About 80-90 yards away, straight in front of us, unobscured. Dad starts whispering the instructions: aim above the shoulder... okay draw your rifle.... okay, take 'eem! Pow! Whiff. No bullet-impact shudder from the buck, but he doesn't run either. Just stands there. I crank the lever on the 30-30 Winchester and re-aim. Dad repeats: right above the shoulder... okay, git 'eem! Pow! Whiff. Missed again. This time, the buck kind shuffles a bit and actually takes a few steps towards us, and then turns again to present his broad-side again for a third shot. Now I am starting to get nervous, and I can hear my throat beating with my heart as I take aim. I did not want the story of my big buck to be The One That Got Away. Dad abbreviates his pre-shot comments this time: Smoke 'eem! Pow! Whiff. The buck does not shudder like he'd been hit, and after a half-second pause, both of them take off for the nearest brush. We watched the doe run out of site, but it seemed that maybe the buck had stopped. We couldn't tell for sure. We didn't want to abandon our obviously primo place to inspect the brush to see if he was there - maybe he'd come out or we'd wait to see if any other deer showed up. When it was time to go, if he hadn't shown himself again, we'd meander over there to see if maybe he was bleeding out in the brush. I'm seething, convinced I'd missed all 3 clean attempts.

30 minutes later, my Dad's buddy comes down the row and asked "What happened? I saw them two, and I heard ya blastin'..." I start to tell my sad tale, but he interrupts. "No, you got 'eem. The first shot was a whiff. The second shot, I heard a 'TING', and I think you hit the irrigation rig behind him (in the distance). The third shot, I heard a thud." I'm stoked. I am now prepared to sprint over to the brush to find my bleeding buck. Sure enough, he was laid out in waist high brush, out of our site, bleeding like a sonuvagun, dead as a door nail. I hit him right above the shoulder. I think my Dad was as jacked up as I was. But it took him 3 times to say the magic words: smoke 'eem.

Thanks Pops.