29 December 2010, 19:50
JudgeGProud of my daughter
I don't know about the rest of you fellows who have daughters, but it was somewhat of a surprise when my youngest girl, still Barbie-playing and only nine, asked me to take her to a hunter safety course.Ever since, we've had great experiences afield, even going to Africa three years ago.
When she got home from college for Christmas vacation, she asked if we could find a doe to fill her freezer up in Georgia Bulldog country. More than a little excited about getting to guide my Diana, I called one of our fellow posters on AR who periodically needs some doe culling and got a thumbs up. His place is about 3.5 hours away from my Georgia coast home, so I was looking forward to some uninterupted travel time to catch up on father-daughter talk.
The weather forecast was for bitter cold, so we pulled out the heavy stuff, packed up my pickup and headed out Monday morning for the other side of the state.
We talked about music, graduate schools, our upcoming trips to Dallas for DSC, our 2011 safari that we'll do in Matatsi 3 (for her buffalo) and even stopped on the way and bought a jon boat???
We arrived outside of Albany, GA about 3:30 p.m. (it gets dark about 6:00), met our host and bundled up for our cold, cold two hours in a tower stand overlooking a cut corn field with clover and oats planted in strips radiating like spokes from the stand's location.
On the way in, we had a thrill when 8 gobblers were already feeding right by the tower and we got to watch them for about 10 minutes before they moved into the pines and out of sight.
Climbing into the blind was a hoot. We had two backpacks, one rifle, two sets of insulated coveralls, a camera bag, two folding chairs and a couple of big bottles of water, all that besides our heavy clothes already on.
Now, you folks from South Dakota or somewhere might not think that 26 degrees with a constant wind of 15 mph with gust to 25 isn't cold, but to us thin-blooded southerners, it was already getting our attention before we got situated.
My daughter ended up with insulated underwear, jeans (we'll be looking for some better pants in Dallas), a sweatshirt, an insulated jacket, glove liners, heavy gloves, 400 grain insulated boots with sock liners and wool socks, a balaclava and a skull cap with insulated overalls over everything. Normally swelte, she looked like the Michelin Man. I tried to take a picture but she wouldn't allow it.
I fumbled with The White Nile, trying to re-read it for the umpthteen time and found it frustrating with heavy gloves on, but my lady could turn the pages of The Poisonwood Bible because her mittens had a finger slot.
Actually, neither of us was very serious about reading so we glassed a lot and whispered some more father-daughter stuff.
About 20 minutes before the end of shooting light, as the sun began to glow blood red and the eastern sky faded to an absolutely perfect purple, we began to see deer filtering into the little cuts and gullies that drained the cultivated field.
One flicker in the brush became a doe and a yearling joined her, then two more filled in the family group. To the east, but out of shooting range, three more fed out into some clover. Probalby more entered the field, but we concentrated on those coming closer to us.
Emmy didn't even lift her gun. She just would look at the first group we saw (then about 150 yards) and would smile with a comment like, "They have their fur fluffed out, don't they?" or "I'll bet the two big does are mother and daughter. Don't they kick out the button bucks when they are 6 months old?"
The deer apparently had somewhere to go and that was about 60 yards directly in front of our stand. Arriving, they began to paw at the ground and pick at whatever corn that still remained.
We watched for about another minute when Emmy remembered how cold it was and suggested that we shoot one before we froze to death ourselves.
Like a pro, she glanced down at the dial on the Leupold 2.5-8x scope and turned it to 4 power and then shouldered the gun. The largest of the four deer was the on the right and broadside. I told Emmy to shoot when ready.
I waited for a few seconds and looked over at my daughter and about split a side trying to keep from laughing out loud. Her balaclava and skull cap had slid down over her eyes when she leaned forward to place her cheek on the stock. She muttered something definately not ladylike.
Reaching over, I held the gun in position while she re-adjusted her headwear and regained her sight picture. By then, the biggest doe had turned to face us so Emmy again waited a bit.
After a minute, our first chosen target moved behind a branch in the only tree in the field. Emmy stayed calm and asked if she could shoot the other grown doe. I replied affirmatively and my daughter leaned over towards me to allow a shot now more to her right, took off the safety and squeezed.
I had my binoculars on the deer and saw fur fly slightly in front of the last rib. Since the deer was quartering slightly away, I "knew" we'd shortly have a deer in the bed of the truck.
Well, I though I "knew". The dang doe ran about 20 yards and stopped and looked back at the other three deer which hadn't even moved. I guess it didn't take more than 20 seconds, but during that time, the three un-shot deer actually started feeding again while the doe Emmy had shot just stood there.
Because of the size of the window, my daughter couldn't get the rifle on the deer to shoot again unless she pulled the gun back into the blind and then shot from a side window, a difficult move, for sure. When I was going to take the rifle and shoot myself, the deer just fell over, stone dead. It's compatriots keep on feeding, unconcerned, even when Emmy and I gave a high five or two, shouted "Boo!" and finally ran only when I threw a bottle of water towards them. It's hard to train them like that.
We climbed out of the stand (after throwing out all the unbreakable stuff... climbing down that ladder with frozen hands and lots of gear wasn't in my plan) and walked over to the doe.
Emmy had shot the 3.5 year-old slick head perfectly. The shot had entered an inch or two forward of the diaphram (about 1/2 up) and angled to just behind the far shoulder. Interestingly, the bullet didn't exit (it was a cup and core type and at 3300 fps from a .270 WSM, probably was just pieces when it got to the far skin... I'm switching to a bonded bullet for the future, btw). The doe had been quite dead for the 20 seconds it just stood there, but she just didn't know it.
So what's this really all about?
1. Barbie Doll daughters can become hunting buddies. Don't think that only sons are eligible or interested. I gave both my girls the opportunity to hunt. It appealed to one and I'm blessed. The other likes to canoe so we do that for our outdoors time together. Different strokes, but all good!
2. We had a good time because we were prepared for the cold. I'm crazy. I will sit on a stand in Alberta in -15 C. all day long, but my daughter's love for hunting isn't as foolish as mine. She likes to go, but she's a lot more likely to go again if she's comfortable. Daughters are like that. If you take yours, make sure they have good gear.
3.We practice with a quality bolt .22 rifle (a Brno). It sure does make you feel good when you see your daughter comfortably settle down on the stock and not have her head wandering around to get a sight picture, then to watch her confidently and comfortably ease off the safety and set up into a good shooting position, cupping her hand under the stock and snugging the rifle to her shoulder.
4. Finally, and most importantly, a thanks to Saeed for allowing us to have AR. I met our host for this hunt through this forum (along with a couple of hundred other guys and ladies). Accurate Reloading is an amazing place. Emmy and I wouldn't have had the opportunity we had without it. My blessings to you, Saeed, my friend!
Emmy and the doe (after she "re-svelted")... oh, the vainess of youth! Dang! She took off warm clothes and got cold just so she wouldn't look fat! Note the red nose.
but of course that is obvious since the camera lens didn't break 
