Late December 1988 in Rabun, Al. I was 12 years old. Our group was doing a dog drive. It was during the short doe season back during those years. My cousin turned out the dogs and had to go behind a man’s house and the man was drunk. The drunk man turned out his bull dogs and started shooting his gun since he was not liking the deer dogs being turned out behind his house but we were not on his property. I was standing off the edge of a straight stretch of dirt road and I was the only stander on the road. With all of the noise and commotion going on, a doe and a spike which barely broke the hairline tried to slip out away from all of the noise and commotion and I was standing about 40 yards from them. I decided that day was going to be the day I killed my first deer and it happened that I killed two on that day. I was toting my daddy’s Diawa Auto 500 shotgun 12 gauge loaded with 00 Buckshot I had past up plenty of opportunities for two years and got tired of waiting on a nice buck so those were my first two deer kills. It is kinda funny how the human mind works with memory and what some memories mean to us- As for me that first deer kill means just as much to me as any buck I have killed in the years after.

Last edited by Narrow Gap; 08/15/26 10:23 PM.
John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life".