By Trey Wofford
-- On Jan. 7, my son, Hunter, and I went on our first hunting trip together. We arrived on private land in Fitzpatrick, Ala., about lunch on Friday with mild temps and on the verge of the Alabama black belt rut.
The first afternoon was uneventful; only three does. The next morning we saw one doe, three young bucks, and right before we got down, we saw a coyote at about 300 yards that my son didn't think I could kill, so I had to show him Daddy is always right.
I had a feeling Saturday afternoon would be different. For those who hunt, you know what I am talking about. We got situated in the ground blind about 3 pm. We had all the necessary supplies when taking a 3-year-old hunting, including snacks, drinks, DVD, my coat for a blanket, and his coat rolled up for a pillow.
Not much happened for the next hour and 45 minutes. Except for a light grunting noise, but that was Hunter snoring. Then about 4:45 p.m., a doe entered the plot downwind. I guess all the potato chips and candy bars covered our scent.
She had her tail in the half-cocked position like she was pointing at something behind her, but nothing was there. I woke my son up just in case, because it was close to rut.
Then about 15 minutes later, back in the pines, I saw a glimpse of white antler. It worked his way to edge of the field, and I knew right then the buck was a shooter. The deer stood motionless as it surveyed the situation -- looking at us and then looking at the doe.
The buck finally decided the doe was more important than the possibility of anyone being in the blind, and it walked on out. The buck gave me a perfect shot at 150 yards. The deer dropped in its tracks, and Hunter was more excited than on Christmas morning.
It was not the biggest buck of my life, but it was one of the biggest memories. That was 3 years ago. Hunter is 6 years old now. He is hooked on deer hunting, and he killed his first buck this past season on the youth weekend. It was a 4-pointer. Now his mother, Shalene, is hooked on bowhunting. I guess I have created some whitetail maniacs.
Thank you, God, for giving us the ability to enjoy the great sport of white-tailed deer hunting.