By Steve Shelton
-- During the opening day of Indiana's 2004 gun season, my dad, Gary, and I started our hunt on a cold crisp foggy morning. I placed my dad in a spot overlooking a draw with lots of cover. I was hunting out of a ladderstand across the field about 350 yards away. As the sun was coming up I could see a corn field through a small patch woods which resembled a bottle neck.
Around 7 a.m., I saw a buck walking along the edge of the cornfield. I got out my grunt call and hit it a few times to see if I could get the buck to come in closer, so I could get a better look. After I grunted a few times, the buck turned around and headed toward me. At about 35 yards, the buck vanished into a thicket, but I could still hear it. Thirty minutes passed, and I still could not see the buck.
Then out of nowhere, the buck walked out under my treestand. I realized that this was a nice 8-point buck. It stopped and gave me a perfect shot. My dad heard the shot and came over the radio wanting to know what I shot. I was so shaken up that it took me a few minutes to figure out were I placed the radio.
About 10 minutes later, Dad walked 350 yards over to where the deer was and helped me drag the deer out. Dad would not have it any other way.
I think when it comes to father and son hunting you can't get any better than that.