This was to be my first trip to hunt for deer. I had turned twelve years of age in August and was ready to take my place beside Dad carrying a large caliber rifle. I had been well schooled in the use of firearms. I have been shooting .22 caliber rifles for several years and figured I was good enough to hunt on my own.
In our family, two days of the year are sacred – the first day of fishing season and the first day of hunting season. Those two days Dad would not work in the fields regardless of what crops dad needed to harvest. Dad was a share-crop farmer and worked hard all his life to scratch out a living for the family. We were living on a small farm north and east of Star that belonged to Dad’s brother. Because cows needed to be milked mornings and evenings, we could not go on overnight hunts. We were happy to be able to go just for the day.
The folks did take us camping for a few days in the summertime for fishing. Dad would hire someone to do the chores while we were gone. Hunting season was usually colder weather, and we weren’t equipped with all the tents and gear to survive the cold.
October 15th was the opening day of deer season this year. We decided to hunt in the foothills above Boise. This is where Dad grew up and learned to hunt himself. We planned to do the chores, then drive to the hunting area just above town. The whole family loaded into the old Model A Ford for the trip for the day. The family consisted of Dad, Mom, my sister Ethel, and younger brother Harry. The older brother, Harold, was staying in Boise with the Grand Parents and could not go this time. Travel time in the Model A was quite a factor back then, 30 to 35 miles per hour was really tearing down the road.
We went up the Mile High Road to the top of the ridge where we would hunt down in the sage brush breaks below the timber line. Deer hang-out in these draws during the summer and fall until winter drives them to the lower valleys. We made it to the hunting area just after sun-up.
In those days the .30-30 rifle was the most often used rifle for deer. It was a light rifle but could kill a deer quite easily. It was a little small for elk, but many hunters used them and killed their elk each year. Dad had an old .30-30 Winchester Model 87 long barreled rifle which held eleven shells in the magazine. He had bought it when he was a young hunter starting out. He borrowed a .30-30 Model 94 for me to use for the day. We loaded the rifles with all the shells they would hold and with some extra shells in our pockets, we headed out to find a deer. Mom and the rest of the family would wait for us at the car.
We had walked a long way down into what’s known as upper Stewart Gulch when Dad and I split up to cover more of the area. We thought we would have a better chance of finding a deer that way. I was down in the creek bottom when Dad spooked out a large doe. She came right down to me.
I tried to remember all the things Dad had taught me. The main thing he always said was to hit the animal the first shot then, if necessary, finish it off later. A wounded deer is easier to run down than one that is just spooked.
I hit her in the jaw with the first shot and knocked her down. She was not mortally wounded, so she jumped right back up. She ran a short distance from me but stopped to see if I was following her. I was hot on the trail but sneaking along watching closely so I could get another shot at her. I found her standing looking up the hill at Dad. She had forgotten about me. This time I put her down with a heart shot. I did not want to chase her any further.
Dad came down to see what I had shot and said I did good. This made me feel rather good at twelve years old.
We dressed her out then looked around to see where we were, and how we could get her to the car. There was an old road running from the main road down a ridge coming out onto Bogus Basin Road at the bottom. This road was about a half a mile away, but uphill all the way. We could follow the draws uphill so it would not be too steep. This was a large sized doe, so we decided to make a litter to carry her, like a stretcher. This worked well with each of us on an end. We tied our rifles alongside the deer to have both hands free. There were no sling straps on them. We had a good time, despite it being all uphill. At twelve I was big enough to pack my end nicely.
The road was in sight when we topped the last little ridge, we were about there. Suddenly a large two-point buck came bounding out of some sage brush about 30 yards away. Dad grabbed his rifle off the stretcher and in one quick shot killed him before he could make a half dozen bounds. I did not even have time to get to my rifle. Now we had two deer to get to the car and we were both getting tired.
We dressed out the buck, but left the head and antlers on him, we were only about fifty yards from the old road. We carried the first deer to the road then dragged the buck up the remaining distance. This road was not a well-kept road by any sense of the word. The last hill down to the deer was loose shale, therefore, if we went down it we couldn’t go back up and we would have to go out the bottom.
Dad and I walked up to the car which was about a mile away. We checked the road as we went, and this one spot was the worst that we could see. Dad decided to take a chance that the road was not washed out down below somewhere. We all piled into the car and away we went down the road to get the deer. As we went down the loose shale hill, we knew there was no going back up. We loaded the deer on each front fender and tied them tight to the car, because we were in for a hard trip to get to the main road.
All went well until we came to a bad wash out in the road. The only way to get around it was to go around the hillside above it where there was not any road at all. The family stood on the uphill running board and leaned out as far as possible to help counterbalance the slant. We made it around and back to the road. That was a bit scary because the bottom of the hill was a long ways down. There were some small washes to go through down below but nothing to stop us now.
Finally, we made the main road after an hour or more of hard work and sweat. The rest of the trip would be easy. Dad drove right down through the middle of town showing off our deer. We received lots of stares and pointing, we were very proud hunters.
Back at home again, we still had to do the milking before we could take care of the deer and get them hung up to cool out during the night. After they were skinned, we put them in meat sacks then hung them up in the air with the derrick. A tree would have been sufficient, but the derrick was more impressive to the neighbors. After the deer had hung for several days to cool and age a bit. Dad took them to the Linder meat locker to have them cut and wrapped and put in a locker box.
Venison was our main meat during the winter months when the snow is on the ground. Since we had used our tags on the first trip, the season for deer hunting was over. We would get in a lot of duck and pheasant hunting the rest of the fall. Growing up on a farm sure has lots of advantages, more so than being a city kid.