GO BACK A LONG WAY
Do you remember your first firearm? I’m betting you do. By the age of six or seven, I had ‘run through’ a couple of BB guns and was a pretty good shot with iron sights, especially on running rats that invaded our chicken houses! But when I reached the ripe old age of eight, my Uncle Jack presented me with a .410 Mossberg bolt action shotgun, and my ‘serious’ hunting for small game and quail began.
Most folks today would think allowing a youngster of eight to hunt solo is not a good idea, and I concur. My two boys were not allowed to hunt alone until they proved to me they were thoroughly grounded in firearm safety. And even then, I didn’t allow them to hunt with other youngsters without adult supervision. But things were different way back in 1958 when I was eight years old. Rural kids were allowed, and often encouraged, to shoot and hunt at an early age. It was a way of life and, although whitetail deer numbers were scarce, there were plenty of rabbits, squirrels, quail and ducks in season to keep us occupied and, in my case, lay the groundwork for a lifetime of wonderful times hunting from Canada to Mexico and many places between.
By the time I was ten years old, whitetail deer were becoming more plentiful around our little farm, and my dad bought me a few .410 rifled slugs. Honestly, I’m not sure if they were legal for hunting deer even back in those days, but I never even saw a deer on those early excursions after school into the back forty behind out house. I’d get off the school bus, quickly put some hay and grain out for my horse, grab a cold sweet potato and my little Mossberg, and head out on an after-school deer hunt! I don’t remember seeing a deer back then, but I was looking hard!
Small game was plentiful and I remember how proud I was to sit down to a meal of smothered squirrel, rice and gravy that my mother prepared from the fruits of my hunt with that little shotgun. Yes, my love for Mossberg firearms goes way, way back. In my early teens, I acquired a used Mossberg 12-gauge pump which I put to use through my high school years. I dearly wish I still had kept my old shotguns but, like many young men, the need for a fuel pump or starter for that first ‘junker’ automobile took precedence!
I’m not really a gun collector. I find a ‘deer rifle’ that I like and keep it forever. I’ve got an old lever action .243 that I’ve hunted with for the past 40 years and still use it on occasion. But ever since the 6.5 Creedmoor cartridge was introduced by Hornady in about 2007, I have been enamored with the round. It shoots a heavier bullet than the .243 but is still an ‘easy shooter’ with light recoil.
A couple weeks ago, Mossberg shipped one of their Patriot rifles in 6.5 Creedmoor to my gun dealer, and I got busy putting a scope and sling on it. My goal was to put the rifle to use this deer season and use it for my ‘daytime’ hog hunting rifle. I have a little Mossberg Patrol Rifle in .223 topped with an AGM Global Vision thermal scope for hunting hogs at night. My neighbor has a shooting range at his place, and together we put my new rifle through its paces. After a bit of adjusting, the last three shots were inside a one inch circle at 100 yards. I needed little coaxing to go deer hunting, and looking at that new tack driving rifle in the gun cabinet called for action; I just had to ‘break it in’. I still had a buck tag that was literally burning a hole in my wallet! My friends, David Cotton and his father Edgar, own and intensely manage for whitetail and waterfowl some prime bottomland land not far from my home, and they invited me to come and hunt one of the management bucks that they wished to take out of the herd.
David and I settled into an elevated blind overlooking a food plot midafternoon and, before long, the action began. A couple of young bucks milled around the edge of a wood line on the far side of the field but no shooters. With an abundant supply of freshly fallen acorns, deer don’t have to go far to find quality food but the fresh, tender green sprouts are irresistible, even with the forest floor covered in one of their favorite foods. In a few weeks, when the acorns are gone, deer will be hitting these green fields hard. I’ve never been on a deer hunt that I didn’t consider successful. David and I watched wood ducks drop into a roost pond as the sun set. A red shouldered hawk kept us occupied in his efforts to catch dinner in the form of a hapless mouse or rat, and a blue heron worked the edge of the pond. Edgar text us from another field about a half mile away and reported watching several does and bucks munching on the greenery.
I paused a minute and gave thanks for still being able to enjoy the great outdoors after all these many years, and being there with my new friends makes it even more special. As the sun set and our hunt ended, my mind backtracked those 64 years to a time when a youngster was sitting in the woods at his family farm wishing for just a glimpse of a deer! A great deal has changed in these past six decades since I hunted with my first Mossberg and the new rifle sitting in the corner of the blind will be ready for action…. on my next hunt!
Contact Outdoors writer Luke Clayton through his website www.catfishradio. org
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