Into The Woods: Deer Hunting with My 5-Year Old Son in Southwest Virginia.

by Bryan Winegar

for Advanced Composition, ETSU, Spring 2011

As we embarked on our hunting trip, I never would have imagined the turn of events that would unfold.

Leading Up to the Hunt

Growing up in East Tennessee entails common practices and traditions that may seem to outsiders as barbaric and unjust. Many traditions of the East Tennessee “Hillbillies” are far removed from urban thought process and are therefore foreign and viewed in a negative light. One of these traditions is hunting. When I was a small boy around the age of 5 my dad took my older brother Jimmy and me squirrel hunting. It was in late November and was far too cold for a small boy to enjoy for too long but before the numbness in my fingers and toes set in, all my senses were completely alive. I think we bagged four or five squirrels and the bonding experience between a father and son that occurred that day is irreplaceable. Far too often fathers miss out on chances to bond with their sons and there remains a gap between them throughout life. Since becoming a father, I vowed that my children would come first and that I would take time out of my overcrowded schedule to give my son some life-long experiences. Although I am not an avid hunter myself, I decided to take my oldest son deer hunting this past season. This story is a glimpse of the events that unfolded.

My son Justus turned five years old this past August of 2010 and he is an all American boy. He loves fishing, hunting (or at least the thought of hunting), sports, etc. About a year ago I took him to a gun show and we bought us a deer rifle, a Winchester 30/30 lever action. I did this knowing that when he reached five years of age I would let him see what the woods had to offer. My grandfather owns about 50 acres in Carters Valley which borders the Virginia/Tennessee state line near Weber City, Va. My brother has killed several deer there and has a deer stand that he said we could use. The day before we were to go hunting I let Justus know our plans and he was ecstatic. He played with rifle shells, prepared his warm clothes and asked at least a thousand questions. “Daddy, are we going to till a big one?” “Tan I shoot the dun?” “Tan the deer get too twose to us?” “Do you think we’ll dit One?” etc. All of these are natural questions for an excited little boy and in my opinion they reflect a healthy excitement about a life experience between father and son.

It was Saturday morning, the day of the hunt and I woke Justus to tell him to get ready. The sparkle in his little eyes at that moment was priceless. Immediately his little mind was exploding with life and vigor as he quickly dressed. We ate a bowl of cereal and headed out the door, “loaded for bear,” as the old-timers around here say. When we arrived at my grandfather’s it was still dusk and Justus was a little reluctant to venture into the woods. I had to remind him that his daddy wouldn’t let anything happen to him and that we had a high powered rifle that I would successfully use to ward off all monsters and such that might try to “dit” us. After several minutes of convincing, Justus and I stepped foot into the wild woods.

Into The Woods

For those who have yet to enter the woods before daylight there is something you should know. Walking into unfamiliar territory in almost pitch black darkness can be quite an unsettling experience. Occasionally there awaits a bird that if disturbed, sounds like a helicopter taking flight several yards away. This bird, the grouse, has caused my adrenaline to rise many times. Justus and I were unfortunate enough to rustle one of these sleeping beasts from its bed. FFFFFFFFFFLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!

“Daddy, Daddy, don’t wet it dit me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I replied, “its o.k. son it’s just a grouse, a bird that nests on the ground in the woods.” Justus hesitated, “but daddy, he was woud.”

“I know son those little S.O.B’s scare me every time.”

We made it past the grouse and headed deeper into the forest. Our hunting destination was a climbing tree stand that my brother Jimmy, an avid deer hunter, had placed several years ago. The tree stand has about 10 ladder rungs and extends about 15 feet in the air and is held in place by a Shag-Bark Hickory tree which is a squirrel favorite. I hadn’t exactly figured out how I was safely going to get a five year-old boy, a rifle, and a backpack of necessities (deer knife, rifle shells, ear plugs, three Swiss-Miss rolls, 2 Dr. Peppers, 2 Capri-Suns, and 2 packs of cheese and peanut-butter crackers) into the deer stand. I determined that I would get Justus into the stand first. Leaving the rifle and supplies on the ground, I had him start climbing the ladder and I climbed right behind him acting as his safety harness. Once Justus was securely in the stand I went back down and gathered the other supplies and brought them up into the stand.

There we were, in the middle of the woods at dusk with no outside interferences, just us and Mother Nature. Slowly the sun began to peak its head over the horizon and the woods began to dance with life. There is something magical about this moment in the woods. It’s not like home where you can just flip a switch and the lights come on and suddenly everyone is awake and stirring. In the woods, morning life begins slowly and methodically. First an adult squirrel can be seen cautiously making its way out of its home made of leaves nestled high in the tree-tops. Minutes later a Giant Woodpecker can be heard off in the distance hammering away in the bark of a tree in search of an insect breakfast. Overhead Crow can be heard stirring the rest of the animals as if to say, “Good morning fellow animals, all is well in the woods today.” Sometimes I wonder if they are really saying, “Hey all you animals there are two foolish humans sitting in a funny looking contraption fastened to a tree so beware.”

As the woods came to life, Justus and I searched all around us for any signs of deer. I would explain to him scenarios of how we would behave should we see a deer and how he must remain still and not become too excited or we would scare the prey away. As time lapsed by he became a little fidgety. So I would give him a snack and a juice which successfully calmed down his natural five year-old anxieties.

The Pivotal Moment

Finally at about 9:30 a.m. we heard a rustle in the leaves just north of our stand. I knew the sound and surmised that it was much bigger than a squirrel. Unless it was another human, it had to be a deer. I motioned for Justus to be very, very still in my “daddy-sign-language” sort of way. We sat still and waited as the rustling continued to draw closer and closer. “Chhhh, chhhhh, chhhhh, chhhh.” We still couldn’t see the deer because it was coming from the north which was directly behind our stand. Our view was blocked by a big Hickory tree that our stand was fastened to. We waited and waited for what seemed like hours (it was actually about 5 minutes). Finally I caught a glimpse of something majestic. It was a buck deer! This wasn’t an ordinary, run-of-the mill buck either. This buck was ginormous! It was at least a 10-pointer (this term is derived from how many little points on the deer’s antlers that are at least an inch or bigger.) I motioned for Justus to look and when his eyes became fixed upon the deer they grew in size exponentially. He didn’t have to say a word; I knew exactly how he felt. The term for the physical transformation that took place in our bodies at that moment is called “buck-fever.” My dad used to call it “the thrill of the hunt.” As a result of this phenomenon, Justus’s little body appeared to be in a state of hyperventilation. Moments like these for Justus are moments when he knows that he is alive. All of his senses were peaking and his body was alive with adrenaline as his lungs expanded and contracted, gasping for air. I could not have been happier.

Here we were in pivotal point of man vs. nature, boy vs. man-hood, and father vs. nurturing a 5 year old boy. I raised my rifle and awaited a clear shot. Justus whispered, “Daddy he sure is a pretty deer.” I answered, “Yeah he is son, he’ll make a fine trophy for our wall won’t he?” Justus in a melancholy voice replied, “But daddy I bet he has a son too, don’t you fink?” “Yeah son a buck that big probably has many sons in these woods.” Again with an even less excited tone, “Daddy, I don’t want you too shoot him, he is too pitty.” It was at this moment I fully realized that I was dealing with an extremely sensitive little spirit that just did not have that killer instinct to slay a beast of the woods. I told Justus, “Are you sure you don’t want me to take him down?” His sweet little voice replied, “No daddy, he is too pitty.” I lowered the gun and we just sat there and watched as the buck foraged around a bit, caught wind of us, snorted real loud, and burst off deep into the woods.

Justus and I both looked at each other as the deer disappeared. We shared a mutual sense of victory and pride in letting the buck go. I learned something that day about my son that I will treasure always. He has a soft heart, one not designed for taking life, one designed for giving life. Justus and I created a memory that day that will last a lifetime. We went through an emotional journey that welded our spirits closer

together as father and son. Justus still wants to go hunting but I believe he will never choose to take the shot.