Here is my edited version of the story:
During the late 1940s, one highlight of growing up was for Dad to take a day off from farming and take the family on a deer hunting trip for just one day, usually on a Sunday. We would be up extra early to get the chores done before we could go. One Sunday finally came around. Dad wanted to go somewhere to get a deer. The old Model A Ford was loaded with gas and the whole family, and we headed for Halfway Creek along the Idaho City Road. The trip would take at least an hour or more of travel time since cars weren’t very fast back then.
I should mention the family consisted of Dad, Mom, Harold, Ethel, Harry, and myself. Dad, Harold, and I would be the only ones carrying rifles. Harry was not old enough to hunt and Mom and Ethel couldn’t shoot a deer if one ran over them.
The road up Halfway Creek was in good shape. There was an old homestead at the upper end of the valley that maintained the road so they could get in and out.
Deer migrate through this area in early fall as the snow starts to fall. Some deer stay in this valley during the summer because it has everything they need – water, plenty of feed, and lots of cover to hide. We should be able to find a couple deer somewhere during the day.
The car was parked at the lower end of the creek. Dad thought we should hunt on foot from the start of the creek. Of course, we knew he was right because deer could be hiding anywhere. The weather was clear and crisp as we took off up the creek.
I went up the right side of the creek while Harold and Dad hunted the other side. They would hunt close together most of the time. I walked a long way up the hill without seeing a thing and very few tracks. I took plenty of time and even sat on the hillside at different spots to watch the far hills for any movement. Nothing showed up at all.
In the meantime, Dad and Harold were up on the opposite hill which was mostly covered with sagebrush and bitterbrush. At one time during the day, I thought I heard a shot coming from their direction. I wasn’t sure where they were but they could take care of a deer without my help. Dad told me as I left the car to come back at noon for lunch if I had not found a deer by then.
We would share our findings and determine where to go in the afternoon. The sun showed it was noon time and my stomach told me the same thing. I was starting to get hungry too. It was time to head back to the car to see how the rest of them fared. I dropped off the hill to the road for easier walking. I was not long in getting to the car. The rest of the family was already in the car by the time I arrived.
Dad had some spots of blood on his arms so I knew he must have shot a deer. I looked around to see what he had shot but there was no deer in sight. “Okay, now what was going on and what did you shoot?” Dad finally told me that he had shot a doe up on the hill, but the bullet did not hit any bones. He had hit it through the middle, and it ran down the hill to the creek. The shot was a killing shot but it would take a while. The deer was hurting as she came to the creek and stopped to take a drink of water. The cold water shocked her as it hit bottom, and there she died. Dad and Harold dressed her out by the creek then left her there, where it was cool. We would drive up to get her after lunch.
Mom had some fried chicken and potato salad fixed for lunch. It sure was a welcome sight. She also brought along some milk and coffee. We made short work of that delicious lunch. Mom always took good care of our bellies.
Dad wanted to pick up the doe then look for another deer somewhere farther up the creek. Everyone piled into the car and we headed up the road to where the deer was hidden. She was still in the spot as Dad had left her. We put her in the back seat where we would make room for her under our feet.
We drove on up the creek a couple more miles or so. There were some large timber patches up on the far hills that looked like a good place for a deer to hide. This time Harry went along with us as we made a large circle up around the hill going through all the likely looking places, but the deer would not cooperate. If there were any there, we could not find them.
By the time we were back to the car, the sun was starting to get low in the west and it was time to head for home. The cows would be waiting to be milked, as well as the rest of the chores. The deer still needed to be skinned and bagged to keep the flies away. We would do that after the chores were all done. Dad would cut the deer into pieces for the freezer, to be used later in the winter. Mom always kept some choice pieces to be cool and fresh. We try to get a couple deer each year for winter meat. We would look forward to having some venison steaks quite regularly. This was a very good eating deer.