There’s something about those first few days of rifle season in Alabama. The anticipation. The tradition. The chance that today’s the day you’ll see something you’ll never forget.
Even though I picked up the rifle on opening morning, I just couldn’t let go of that bow.
Here’s how one quiet Sunday turned into one of my most memorable hunts—with my son right there to help me track him.
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I don’t think I’ve missed a Bama rifle opener since I was old enough to tag along. It’s something we look forward to all year. This year, I took the rifle with me on Saturday, but it didn’t take long before I knew I wasn’t ready to put the bow down just yet.
Sunday morning, the sheet monster got me, and I slept in, but by afternoon, I was up and ready to hunt a hang-on stand I’d set up the week before on a gas line. I’d planted WMS Deer Magnet down that line, and I’d been keeping tabs on it.
From watching that spot, I knew the pattern: the mature bucks came from the north, out of a big clear-cut. They’d grab a bite and angle across to a trail. Younger bucks? They’d just meander any which way.
Scrapes and rubs told me something mature had been through recently. So I climbed in around 2:45. The weather was right. The wind was perfect.
And then… nothing.
It got late enough that I turned to look at my bag and bow hanging there and thought, “Might as well start climbing down.” I turned my head back around—and at 25 yards, he was just standing there. Like a ghost.
One flash of those main beams and I knew he was a mature deer. Points were a blur—but I didn’t need to count them.
He turned broadside and I drew. Then he faced me and started walking in. I let the bow down and waited.
He turned again, looked broadside, but ended up quartering-to just a bit. I settled the pin and touched it off.
I heard the arrow hit solid. He bolted uphill, but I knew he wouldn’t make it far. Not up that steep hill. Sure enough, I heard him crash and kick a few times.
I kept it together during the shot, but after that arrow left the string, I started shaking that little tree like I was squirrel hunting. That rush is something else.
I got my composure, called Drake, and after a bit, we picked up the trail. Great blood. About 70 yards later, we found him lying in some short pines.
Drake looked at me and said, “I’m so glad we don’t have to drag that deer up one of these hills.”
I said, “You ain’t kidding.”
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That evening’s hunt went from dead quiet to full throttle in a heartbeat. And the best part? My son was there with me. He was just as excited as I was. I’m sure neither of us will ever forget it.
That’s what it’s all about: time together in the woods, passing it down, and making memories that last a lifetime.
Y’all stay safe, enjoy every chance you get, and don’t be afraid to keep that bow in your hand a little longer than you planned.
~Lyle
Here is a YouTube Short on how the hunt went:
