Hunting And Outdoor Sports
The Game Warden's Corner: What's it score?
The Game Warden's Corner: What's it score?
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✍️By ZRIntel Editorial Team📍Tennessee, USA
By DUSTIN BURKE If you know me, you know that deer hunting is something I obsess over; its something that I find myself thinking about at least a dozen times a day . This may sound like a problem to some, but its the one thing that has always been a constant to me since I was a boy. When it wasnt deer season, my dad would buy a North American Whitetail magazine from Walmart . I would read those magazines cover to cover . Just as Ralphie Parker daydreamed about a Red Ryder, carbine action, two-hundred shot range model air rifle from The Christmas Story, I was daydreaming about killing a deer like the "Minesota Monarch ." My grandpa had found a non-typical shed when he was younger, and deer were bigger, as he always explained. Like a dog with a prize bone, I carried that thing everywhere . Matter of fact, I still have it today and display it on my kitchen counter. There was always just something about deer antlers that kept me mesmerized. On the weekends, my sister and I went to our dads house . A perk of going to dads during deer season was, just as a kid waking up and hoping Santa Claus came, we would wake up to my grandpa or Uncle Dale beckoning us to come look at the deer they had killed, laying in
the back of the truck
. I knew one day this would be me, it just had to be! Fast-forward to 1993, and Dad decided I was old enough to not only go hunting but old enough to give it the respect it deserved . He signed me up for the hunters education safety class, and I was a nervous wreck. Hunting was something I had dreamed about since I could remember, and passing this class was the only thing that stood between me and hunting . I passed the class and deer season couldnt get here quick enough! As it got closer, Dad would come home from working all day and try to scout places to hunt . My grandpa, uncle Dale, and Dad schemed and threw out ideas. A few weeks before juvenile season, we made a trip to Walmart to get my first set of hunting clothes. We got some Walls coveralls and a pair of boots . The excitement was hard to contain. I talked about it at school and at home. The Friday before opening juvenile season, we rushed home so we could make sure the gun was sighted in . For some reason, Dad was adamant that I was to only use the iron sights on the rifle. At the time, it confused me, because it had a scope on it . Looking back now, I realize he wanted to make it as simple as possible! That morning, the day of November 6, 1993, Dad wakes me up, and I immediately smell fried bologna being made in the kitchen . He was making us fried bologna sandwiches. To this day, every time I smell that delicious aroma, Im reminded of hunting with my dad
. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and walked out on the porch, well, wait, I just opened the front door and felt the cold hit me . My excitement turned immediately into, can we wait until it gets warmer? That was not an option. So, I layered up like Ralphies brother, Randy, in The Christmas Story
. We made it to our spot, got out of the truck, and Dad sprayed me with some stuff that smelled like dirt. We took off walking to the spot . I remember carrying his Marlin 30-30 and trying to step in all the same places as he did
. Every sound had my heart racing while I asked Dad, what was that? After an hour of sitting there exhausting my eyes and tapping him on the leg, Dad decided to take some antlers and rattle them together . I had seen this on Roger Raglin videos rented from the video store . The moment the antlers clashed, my heart leaped, and my head turned like a turret on a WWII tank! Suddenly, the distinct sound of running and leaves crashing got closer. A deer came running down the hill . It was definitely a buck, and it headed toward a small tree where Dad had hung some Tinks 69 from a scent rag. As the deer stood there, I was mesmerized, starstruck by this moment I had dreamed about . Unfortunately, the deer turned and walked away just as quickly . Dad urged me, are you going to shoot or what? The rest is history; within the first two hours of my first hunt, I had my first bucka respectable non-typical 8-pointhanging proudly on my wall today . From that day forward, I was hooked, the chase for a monster buck consuming my thoughts. Ive hunted in Tennessee and northeast Ohio, experiencing the thrill and camaraderie of deer hunting
. In 2021, I joined a lease in Ohio, where I eagerly awaited the elusive giant deer. Hunting success remains low; estimated statistics reveal only 4050% of the 9.1 million whitetail deer hunters in the U.S . are successful each year. The competition is fierce, with hunters often feeling pressured by the expectations of trophy deer . The definition of a trophy deer has evolved over time, largely influenced by commercial hunting shows that have popularized the notion of bigger antlers as the only measure of success . As a result, many hunters obsess over inch counts rather than valuing the experience of hunting itself . Todays commercialization of huntingcentered on expensive gear and lofty expectationsthreatens to overshadow the essence of the sport: connection with nature, bonding with family and friends, and the pure excitement of the hunt . We must shift focus back to what truly matters in hunting: the memories made and the joy shared . In conclusion, deer hunting has become more than just a sport; it is woven into the fabric of our lives, shaping our memories, friendships, and family traditions that define us as hunters . My hope is to inspire others to savor each moment in the field, cherish their experiences, and embrace the true spirit of hunting that transcends antler scores. Let us celebrate every hunters journey, understanding that every trophy is unique and personal.