Teaching Taylor

I’ve hunted ever since my dad has allowed me to join him. I took the firearm safety course and practiced my shot as much as I could. I accidentally inherited the perfect rifle when I was 12 in preparation of years to come of enjoying the woods. I say accidentally because my dad didn’t think I wouldn’t give back his custom stock .308. He thought maybe I would return it one day. I haven’t.

For years, I would anxiously await the arrival of rifle season. An opportunity to spend time with my dad in the woods. The first deer I ever shot was a doe, big enough to earn me the first place prize at the neighbor’s hunting competition and a couple hundred dollars.

The second and the third deer I shot, comes with a different story that is quite comical. My dad had built me a stand to hunt in on my own, but I complained because I was worried I wouldn’t see any deer there, so he allowed me to just use his stand on my own instead. It was a spot that was guaranteed to see deer on my grandparent’s land.

Shortly after arriving to the stand, two deer arrived. A small 6 and 7 pointer to be exact. SMALL is the key word here, folks. I pulled up my accidentally inherited rifle and slowly pulled the trigger. (Okay truth be told I fumbled around, readjusted 18 times and then probably pulled the trigger) I felt real good about my shot, but to my surprise, the deer was still standing. So, I cycled through, and did it all over again. The deer ran. Feeling defeated, I texted my dad on my flip phone using T9 to come over.

Upon his arrival I could hear him chuckling and he said “Taylor it’s right here!” I walked to him and the deer and noticed a trail of blood. Feeling a little confused, we followed the trail. After a short walk, there it was. Another deer. My dad laughed again and said “Only you!” I had just shot two deer! I guess I quickly filled the freezer for my dad and I that day!

I’m hoping sharing this story almost 15 years later doesn’t get me in trouble, but when I think hunting stories, that’s one of my favorites.

Fast forward a few years, okay, a lot of years, I still sight in my accidentally inherited gun, suit up in my camo and head to the stand. Instead of driving my dad nuts out in the woods, I get to hunt with my hubby. Bless his heart for letting me sit in the stand with him.

I always say, I like going hunting but I don’t love being quiet and sitting still (If you know, you know!), but I’ll do it because it’s quality time with my sweet husband.

We watch deer together, whisper about plans for the future and go back and forth on who gets to shoot when the big buck comes out. Don’t worry, we haven’t had to worry about that big debate yet, thankfully. Ha!

We’ve all got a hunting story or two that comes to mind when this time of year rolls around. There’s just something about opening weekend that brings so much joy to so many of us.

Right now, though, as I sit here writing this post because absolutely nothing is happening at the stand tonight, I find myself thinking back on all the good times hunting over the years. And, honestly, all I can think about is what comes after hunting. ICE FISHING. I can talk, move around, and if things are slow, we can just pack up and try somewhere else. Meaning I won’t get as bored as I am right now! Haha!

So, are the lakes freezing up yet? Because I’m ready to swap out the stand for the ice shack.