Shooting a big buck brings excitement, and a bit of relief; every hunter likes to say he's killed a big buck. Killing your first deer brings excitement, too, but then a sense of dread takes over. The young hunter knows he's about to experience his rite of passage -- getting Blooded.
I can still recall my first deer like it was yesterday. We were running dogs in Bobtown Hunting Club. It was getting late in the day. Daddy and I had just stopped on the Bombing Range road, near a place we called the Tricycle Stand. We could tell the deer had turned and was heading our way. Daddy quickly put me in some open pines, then moved about 75 yards away to the head of a dry pond.
By now the dogs were charging straight for us; it was almost too loud to hear with the dogs screaming and my heart pounding. I remember it was difficult to see, too; I wasn't that tall yet and had squatted down in thick broom straw. The dogs were almost on us when I heard Daddy shoot, I nearly jumped out of my boots. He then yelled for me to get ready; there were two deer, he killed one and the other one was heading straight for me.
I was ready, kneeling on one knee with a 12-gauge automatic shotgun to my shoulder. The deer almost jumped over me. One second I'm hearing Daddy yelling for me to get ready, the next moment the deer is not more than a few yards away. It all became a blur, then instinct took over. I started pulling the trigger as fast as I could; I don't even remember aiming.
Three fast shots, then nothing; the deer was gone as quickly as it came. I believe Daddy was by my side before the smoke cleared away. I showed him where I was kneeling and where the deer had run; I was pretty calm for the moment. The dogs were getting closer now, so Daddy told me to get to the road just in case the deer made a turn that way. But before I could get there, I heard him yelling, "Here it is, here it is." I think I fell down at least three times while trying to get back there. The young doe hadn't run more than 25 yards before she fell dead.
First Blood
Later that evening all of the men had gathered at Colon Beecher's home to clean deer. I remember a lot of hunters being there. My deer was finally put on the skinning rack. I knew what was coming next; part of me wanted to run, but a bigger part of me wanted that experience, it was my rite of passage as a hunter.
I can still see Daddy dipping his hands into the deer's chest cavity when someone grabbed me; I could hear the other men start laughing. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Daddy covered my entire face with deer blood, even rubbing some of it in my ears for good measure. Then it was over, the deed was done. I was one proud little boy. I kept that blood on my face all the way home; I couldn't wait to show Momma.
Janet's Turn
Do you think the traditional rite of passage was limited to just boys? Well, think again, Janet was next.
Daddy, Janet, Keith and I had driven to Gill Bay one evening looking for lost dogs. We had stopped to visit with some men who were camping next to the road leading to the Jeff Ridges. It was starting to get dark when we heard a pack of hounds running on Gill Bay. We jumped into the truck, hoping to cut the deer off when it crossed the road,
Daddy put me on one side of a big curve and Janet on the other. He and Keith then moved further down to the road. Janet was using my youth-style, 20-gauge, single-barrel shotgun. I thought the deer was coming to me when Janet shot. I could hear the deer falling in the bushes, Daddy said he heard it falling, too.
Janet was upset the deer had gotten away. She didn't hunt as much as we did, but she had that killer instinct in her. I can still see that skinny, little blond-headed girl standing there, holding tightly to her shotgun. I hope I offered her a bit of encouragement.
It wasn't long before we heard the dogs baying in a deep water slew that ran between Honey Island and the Corduroy. Daddy told Janet and Keith to wait with the truck while we waded into the swamp. The light was almost gone by the time we got to the deer. Daddy made a mercy shot, then told me to wait with the deer until he returned with help. I remember not being too keen on waiting in the dark without a flashlight.
I wasn't the only one a bit scared that night, Janet and Keith didn't like being left alone either. I'm sure Keith probably got a little devil in him and tried to scare Janet, only to end up scaring himself more. I don't know what they did while waiting on us to return, but I do know one thing, they weren't alone.
A stranger walked up to Janet and Keith that night. Janet said she didn't recognize the man, and no one ever mentioned the incident to Daddy. The stranger asked if they were scared, and Janet said, yes. He then made a small fire for them. Janet said the stranger left as quietly as he came.
It must have been an hour or more when I finally saw flashes of light heading my way. Daddy had taken Janet and Keith to Slew-Foot Herndon's camp, then came back for me and the deer. I was tired and shivering, but happy to be riding in the back of Slew's old jeep.
I don't know if Janet was anticipating getting blooded, but Daddy sure was. A familiar scene took place. Daddy dipped his hands into the deer's chest cavity, someone grabbed Janet, and the deed was done. She had been blooded.
I remember she got it far worse than I did. Not only was her face covered in blood, so were her pigtails and clothes. I believe she must have wiggled more than I did. I know she ended up grinning a lot that night. She was very brave.
Keith's Turn
The baby of the family always gets away with everything, but not this time. Keith's rite of passage was most fitting for a young boy we called, the "Chief."
We were hunting that morning in a place called Steam Boat Swamp. I've heard people say that a steamboat sank in the river near there. I searched that swap several times for relics or grave sites, but never found anything.
Keith was eight-years old. I think he was using my youth-style, 20-guage, single-barrel shotgun, the same gun Janet used to kill her first deer. He and Daddy were making the drive. Sometimes Daddy would put us on a log if he came across a nice open area while he finished the drive. That morning he put Keith on a log.
Daddy had not gone far when the dogs jumped. The deer made a quick circle and headed straight for Keith. It's a good thing he was ready because the deer almost jumped over him. Out of nowhere, the deer came sailing over a palmetto bush, less than five yards from where Keith was sitting.
Keith made a quick shot, but like mine and Janet's first deer, it kept on going. A few minutes later another stander shot at the deer, too. The deer went a bit further and fell dead. That's when the conflict started.
The deer was hit hard. One front leg was shattered, and buckshot has passed completely through the deer, including it's lungs. Keith's shot was less than five yards away; the other stander's shot was over 130 yards. The other shooter, who was visiting from South Carolina, tried to claim the deer, but an impromptu court ruled for Keith -- woods justice prevailed.
Another familiar scene was about to take place, but this time several of Daddy's friends beat him to the punch.
The deer was hanging on the skinning rack, split down the middle, bloody innards still intact. Keith was caught off guard. He was waiting on Daddy to do the deed when Larry Gordon and George Hendricks grabbed him. They each held an arm and a leg, then lifting Keith off the ground, they proceeded to dip him head first into the the deer's exposed innards. Keith came up spitting blood, and who knows what else.
All of us were rolling on the ground with laughter. The Chief definitely experienced his rite of passage. He was covered in blood from his head to his little boots.
Family Tradition
Getting blooded is our family's tradition. We all experienced our rite of passage: Daddy, Al, Fred, Charlie, Ren, Kendall, Kaleb, Kyle, David, Seth, and Sam. I blooded Sam in the shadows of the Blue Ridge Mountains, it was a glorious morning.
Mike's Hunting Tip - Don't worry about the blood, it tastes like chicken.
PS - All of my stories are true, mostly true or maybe just made up :)
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