“I took my kids hunting. Now, I don’t have to hunt for my kids.”
(Uncle) Ted Nugent
Fall 2026
By DaWayne Spires
Kids are known for an unfiltered, non-biased, and extremely honest perspective on all things. Put them in a deer stand and the common place events of a typical hunting
trip tend to exit stage right. It is not that incredible things do not happen to adults on the same stands, but coming from the mouths of our young rings a different bell. Here are three stories that are absolutely true that portray the outdoor world as only kids in deer stands can do.
I had read about this first story years ago in the newspaper, but it was not until I met the father and son at the Buckarama in Atlanta that I got the true gist of the story. I was working a booth for an outdoor publication that I was writing for at the time when a man and his son stopped at my station. We exchanged pleasantries and began talking about the upcoming season. It was a few minutes into our conversion when I found out they were the father and son that I had read about. Always eager for a story line, I asked to hear to story first hand.
It was November in the North Georgia mountains and the rut was on. The father explained to his young son, who was probably in his early teens, that if you see a doe to let her walk. They were hunting a mature 10-pointer that they had seen in the preseason. With fingers crossed, they hoped the buck would show up following a doe. He reminded the young hunter once again that they would put some meat in the freezer later in the season and to let the does walk.
After arriving at their lease, they made their way to their stands. The father put his son in a stand 50 yards from him with a thicket between them. They were covering a split on a heavy trail that to led to a big oak bottom. He made sure that his son was safely in his stand. We did not have cell phones back then – walkie talkies were the device of choice. He made sure the young man had his. He left flashlight in hand to go to his stand.
It had had just gotten light enough to see really good when his son’s rifle nearly rocked him out of his stand. He was not expecting any movement until later in the morning due to the moon phase. The first thing he thought was that his son could not stand it and shot a doe despite being told let them walk. His walkie talkie crackled to life. A young man’s out-of-breathe voice came across the device.
“Dad,” his voice filled with excitement, “I just shot a world record doe!”
Unable to fathom what his son had said, he hurried down out of his stand and went to where his son was hunting. Maneuvering carefully through the thicket, he quickly arrived at the young hunter’s stand. His son was still in his deer stand. He could tell he was visibly shaken, then he saw something that that nearly took his breath.
Photo by Jimmy Jacobs.
Lying about 50 yards from him was a huge cow elk. Elk are not supposed to be in Georgia. His mind raced from whether they were in trouble with the game ranger, to how was they going to get this out of the woods without being noticed.
He finally decided to do the right thing and contacted the local wildlife management office. Not being native to Georgia, elk are considered to be an exotic species and fair game. A game warden soon arrived at their hunting lease. He examined the cow elk and took some measurements. After reassuring the young hunter that he was not in trouble, the game warden shook his hand and congratulated him on a fine harvest. After the help of some unbelieving friends, they got their prize home with the memories of a hunt of a lifetime.
* * *
The next story examines a young boy and his true-to-the-bone desire to go hunting with his dad. I worked with the dad in this story for many years in a glass plant in Warner Robins. It seems my friend’s young son wanted nothing more than to go deer hunting with his father. He would get up on Saturday mornings during the season just to spend time with his father before he went in search that elusive trophy buck. The boy would ask every time as his father headed to his truck when would he be old enough to go with him and every time his father would say “Soon.” Finally, my friend told him that when he was eight years old that he would take him.
The young son counted the days until his eight birthday. The day came and afterwards he was his father’s constant companion as they prepared for the upcoming deer season. Thousands of questions flowed from the son’s mouth. Non-stop, they came. The father tried to answer every one to the best of his ability. The young son wanted to know everything if he was going to a great deer hunter like his dad. All my friend could do was roll his eyes when he recalled those words.
Opening day arrived with an excited young soon to be hunter sitting in the front seat of his father’s truck. As they drove to the deer camp, the questions still came. Finally, my friend told his son once they got to their deer stand that if wanted to continue to go with him; he could not say another word, nothing, period. The boy promised and crossed his heart and hoped to die. The father thought that was a little extreme, but saw a seriousness in his son’s face that belied his age.
My friend chose a shooter shack that he had built in anticipation of the day that he and his new hunting companion would hunt together. It had two seats and plenty of room for the both. It sat in an oak bottom with a creek 100 yards to the south and a ridge above and behind them that fed to a nearby soybean field. It was a perfect funnel.
The weather was cool and clear that morning with little or no breeze. They worked their way to the stand. He smiled when he noticed how his son was doing his best to move without making any noise. Once he stepped on a stick and it snapped with a sudden “crack!”. The young boy froze. His eyes wide with fear that he had ruined their morning. The father gave him a quick “It is okay” hand signal as they continued to their stand.
It was about 9 a.m. The only thing that showed itself was a Boone and Crockett sized armadillo, which was an event worthy of a story itself. The dad was about to get them both a snack when a movement caught his eye. Coming straight toward them was a fat 4-pointer. He tapped his son’s leg and motioned straight ahead.
The boy’s breath caught and his eyes grew wide. My friend raised his rifle fighting a case of buck fever of his own. He motioned for his son to cover his ears. The rifle roared – and the deer just stood there. The great deer hunter had missed. He quickly chambered another round. The rifle roared again. This time, he folded the buck like an old flannel shirt. They waited a few minutes making sure the deer was down for good and climbed down to go see the buck.
They slowly made their way to the downed deer. The father touched the eye of the deer with his rifle barrel. Being sure the deer was dead, he slung his rifle over shoulder. He then asked his son what he thought of his dad’s buck. The boy replied, finally speaking his first words of the morning, that it was great but he wished his dad had shot the big one behind it.
Photo by Jimmy Jacobs.
“What big one behind it?” my friend stammered.
“It was about 50 yards behind it,” replied his son.
“Why didn’t you say something?” the father exclaimed with mounting frustration.
The young boy said calmly, “You had told me that if I said anything that I wouldn’t get to go with you ever again – period. I want to go hunting with you for the rest of my life. I wasn’t going to mess it up”.
My friend told me with tears in his eyes that was one of his greatest memories of hunting with his son, who in turn is now a father of a son himself.
* * *
My final story was told to me by a very close friend about time spent sharing a deer stand with his young son. It started as all father/son hunting stories begin with both enjoying the spectacle of nature in all her awesome glory, then advanced to an opportunity to share one life’s wonders and ended in a reality check for the dad.
My friend and his son were hunting in an oak bottom hoping to catch a buck slipping around looking for a doe that might be feeding on the abundance of white oak acorns scattered heavily throughout the bottom. Unfortunately, the only thing happening were two squirrels frantically racing from tree limb to tree limb in a never-ending race that would make NASCAR look like a leisurely Sunday afternoon drive in the country with the family.
Photo by Jimmy Jacobs.
Suddenly, the two squirrels stopped on a limb about 10 yards directly in front of them and began to consummate a “Talladega marriage proposal” with extreme vigor. Feeling the need to say something, my friend decided it was a good a time as any for “the talk.” We all know what the talk is.
What is a better place than sitting amongst nature’s glory to talk about the birds and the bees. My friend began to stammer, trying to draw from the event going on right in front of them, which had progressed to straight squirrel porn. Being a man who was usually good with finding the right words for the right moment, he was not doing very good. A sort of confused look came across his son face.
“Pop”, he said, “Are you trying to talk about sex?”
My friend said kind of timidly, “Yes”.
“Pop”, his son consoled, “I ride the bus. I know all about that”.
My friend thought to himself as he wiped sweat from his brow, “Bullet dodged. No causalities.” He also figured he needed to talk to his wife about driving their kids to school and forgo the bus.
They say that kids say and do the darnedest things. Put them in a deer stand and it multiplies exponentially. Memories that will last a thousand lifetimes will be created in a flash of juvenile interruptive expression.
Take your kids to the woods. Share with them nature in its simplest form. You will be surprised at the life lessons that will be learned.
DaWayne Spires is a freelance writer who makes his home in Toccoa. He is a member of the Georgia Outdoor Writers Association. He can be contacted at redneckironchef@gmail.com.