First Hunt is Special for Everyone

By Jeffrey Lampe

         Alec Brown is a 9-year-old from northwestern Missouri, and he's always dreamed of hunting giant deer with his father, Casey, and brother, 13-year-old Bryce. 

         Many Missouri boys about Alec’s age consider their first buck hunt as one of life’s major events, and when it's successful, that brings some serious bragging rights at school. I’m happy to say I shared Alec’s very special first hunt.

         Actually, the experience exceeded my high expectations, and I consider it one of the greatest hunts I've been on. It's likely the hunt of a lifetime for Alec, but that's the rest of the story.

After a spectacular turkey hunt in Florida, I had returned to my desk in central Missouri to open mail, and catch up on phone calls and e-mails. Good friend and hunting buddy Kevin Neal had left me an interesting message. He wanted to know if I could take a young man on his first deer hunt. Curious about why Kevin or the boy's father wouldn't do that, I returned the call.

         I learned that the young hunter had been diagnosed with one of the worst types of muscular dystrophy: Duchenne (pronounced doo-shane). He would likely die before age 12. Of course, I would take Alec hunting.

         Kevin and all the Brown boys assumed the hunt would be at my property near Columbia, Mo., but I wanted to make it a really special weekend event. The Bighorn Lodge is a 2,000-acre game ranch owned by the J.B. Hunt family, and it's one of the top whitetail destinations in the Midwest, with world-class facilities. Nestled in near Cassville in southwestern Missouri, the Bighorn was where I wanted Alec to experience his first hunt. I had recently begun working with Bryan Hunt on quality deer management for the ranch, so I asked for access to the ranch and its facilities for this special hunt. Thanks to the generosity of the Hunt family, I received permission. As I was arranging things, Casey “Dad” Brown took young Alec to the local range to learn to shoot his new gun.

         After great anticipation, Oct. 26 finally arrived. The boys had talked of little else the previous week and had not slept the night before. They arrived at the lodge, and the hunt was on.  The boys ran through the wide hallway of the lodge, admiring the huge collection of trophies and two big-screen TVs at each end. Betty George had a fresh plate of warm cookies waiting, and the boys chowed down during their oohing and aahing. (Jim and Betty George work at the lodge and provided outstanding meals and service throughout the weekend.)

         After a quick tour, we went to the world-class shooting range.  Alec and Bryce fired a couple of rounds with perfect placement. Confident in their shooting abilities, I handed the boys their targets and decided we’d better fill out the paperwork for the next day’s hunt.

         Soon, however, I wondered if the hunt would happen. On our walk back from the shooting range, the boys noticed a red Mountaineer RTV in the garage. The boys would not let up on the vehicle for what seemed an eternity.

         “When are we going? When can we ride it?  I wanna ride it!” 

         They seemed to have lost all interest in hunting, but what young boys wouldn’t want an all-terrain go-kart ride? I agreed to take them after the morning hunt.

After promises of rides, completion of paperwork and settling into suites, we had a decadent steak dinner. We sunk into the leather furniture, surrounded by trophies, and began telling hunting stories.

         After tucking in the boys, Casey returned, and the stories continued for a bit until the rest of us couldn’t stand it. We realized there would never be a good time to press him about his dying son, so I just asked. 

         Casey is a former Army Ranger sergeant major, decorated with a Distinguished Service Cross. He has a skull plate and some bullet holes. His training and service, he explained, prepared him to control his destiny and protect others. Alec’s condition did not let him do either. In frustration, he asked how do you go into battle knowing you will be defeated and that your son will die.

         The next morning, we were up before the sun, expecting a spectacular hunt. Jim and Kevin took Bryce to a hunting blind, while Casey, Alec, cameraman Ken Hicks and I went to another ScentTite blind. We wanted everything to be perfect. 

         I began to teach Alec how to use the grunt call and rattle bag. After mastering my short tutorial, Alec was ready to call in some deer. About every 10 minutes, Alec rattled and grunted through the window of the blind. Several young bucks and does visited the field, but no shooter bucks appeared. We ended the hunt with Alec more interested in getting back to the lodge and riding the RTV.

         The morning had turned cold and wet, and the ride was a muddy adventure — perfect for most boys! The screaming and laughter in those 30 minutes stick in my mind like the mud on their faces. 

         That afternoon, Alec insisted that his brother join us so Alec could show him how to call deer. Who were we to deny him a simple request just because five of us — one lugging a camera — would be jammed into a 5-by-8 blind?

Further, we didn't explain that calling deer usually doesn’t include loud, excited whispers. When dusk settled, though, I had to intervene. Silence followed, and deer came out to feed on the Extreme food plot. With the pre-rut on, a giant buck chased a doe behind the blind, never offering us an opportunity to fire.

         Excited to try his new skills in front of Bryce, Alec stood, opened the window and began to call. He had not finished his first sequence when a large-bodied deer appeared at the edge of the brush. 

         “There he is!” Alec exclaimed.

         I glassed it, and it was a beautiful, mature buck. We tried to get Alec into shooting position, but it proved difficult. 

         Alec said, “I want Bryce to shoot him.” 

         We were shocked, and Bryce was happy to oblige. I told Bryce that the buck wasn’t going to stick around, and that we were running out of light. We needed to shoot. Within a few seconds, Bryce shot the deer, which dropped almost immediately.

Elated, we climbed from the blind, with Casey carrying Alec and Bryce following. I got the truck. When I approached the buck, the Brown boys had that “first-buck glow.” It’s one of my favorite sights, which is why I love to take people hunting. Bryce had shot a 13-point, 150-class buck.

         We went back to the lodge for another great dinner and more telling of stories. Bryce had his story, which was shared during and after dinner. The big-screen TV was not the biggest attraction that night.

         The next morning, two excited boys were more ready than ever to hit the field. It was at least 20 degrees cooler, and all the bundled-up hunters squeezed into the blind and cranked up the heater. The sun treated us to a great show at dawn, and there were several deer in the Extreme food plot. Alec decided to call in another buck. During his second attempt, I saw a big 8-pointer; the one I hoped would be Alec’s dream buck. I let everybody know it was a mature buck and definitely a shooter. 

         Alec put down his call and readied his gun. The buck made his way around the large white oak in the middle of the food plot and into range. Alec shakily said he was ready to shoot. With his father coaching him, he squeezed the trigger, and the buck dropped at the edge of the food plot.

         Casey and I dragged the deer back into the food plot and returned to the stand for Alec. His condition made it incredibly difficult for him to walk through the plot to his trophy, so his father and I got on each side to hold his hands and help him. After falling three times, he made it to the buck and grabbed the perfectly symmetrical 144-inch rack. Emotions ran high as Alec admired the animal. We knew it was a first — and likely last — experience.

         Hopefully, Alec was thinking about what any other 9-year-old would be after killing a great first buck. He would have bragging rights at school and now had his story to tell often to anyone who would listen.

         We loaded the buck into the back of the truck and headed for the skinning barn.  On our way, we stopped to get the RTV. As we caped out the bucks, Alec and his brother drove around the barn. We listened to the sounds boys make while racing through mud and having the times of their lives. The hunt was complete.

         Every year, I try to take a first-timer on a hunt — preferably a young hunting hopeful, but some first-timer no matter their age. This hunt, however, was amazingly special. Any attempt to describe the importance of Alec’s first hunt can only sound trite compared to the reality of the experience. It was truly the hunt of a lifetime.