Firearms Hunter's Hut, Spring Brook Twp., Pennsylvania

Spring Brook Twp., Pennsylvania Firearms

Spring Brook Twp., Pennsylvania Firearms

The Hunter's Hut

After 40 years of hunting and shooting all over the world, I finally opened up a business that is my passion. I have extensive hands on experience in Big Game Hunting, Rifles, Handguns, Reloading, and Archery Equipment.  In addition to firearms I plan to bring to my customers  top quality hunting accessories such as ammo, holsters, rifle scopes, knives and much more. I will always try to offer great prices and service.

We have built a brand new 1200 sq. ft. shop in Spring Brook Pa. Please stop and check us out. Check out the first pictures of new shop.  If you are looking to purchase firearms or accessories, please give us a call.  We look forward to hearing from you and becoming your hunting and sporting goods provider.

Above all Else, Quality & Service.

Regards The Head Hunter
J.C.P.
View Some Our Specials Below!

This happened to Me!

(01/28/2019) This Happened to Me on January 1, 2014Well, it has been a long while since I added to my ramblings on the website, but I can vividly remember reading about stories called (This happened to me) when I was a kid growing up in the mid-1960s. I can’t remember if it was Field & Stream or American Sportsman or some other Hunting, Fishing, Shooting magazine that had this column, but I remember reading and enjoying all the incidents that happened to sportsman while hunting and fishing across the country. Some fell off mountains and survived, some got mauled by grizzly bears and survived, all equally harrowing experiences where they lived to tell the tale.So I am going to tell you about two important things that happened to me…!!! I know what you are thinking, oh yeah who gives a crap….LOL. One is a change of lifestyle and the other is a true story of a crazy incident.The first event is that I finally, finally, retired. After spending 32 years in the Commercial Print Industry, I finally hung up my cleats. My last 10 years was with Canon Solutions America, then 15 years with Xerox, then approximately 7 years with A Canon distributor in the Northeast. I was in a demanding and nerve-racking world of multi-million budgets and sale deadlines of a Senior Corporate Sales Executive. It was a long hard haul especially working the crazy hours, traveling, and accompanied with the never-ending stress. And, to top it all off, try running the Gun Shop and doing Gun Shows once a month for the past 7 years. YES, I am glad to be retired.Also after many years, my last and largest item on my bucket list was finally accomplished two years ago. My wife and I finally purchased log home in the country with land. We have about 10 wooded acres in North East PA and we also built the new Hunters Hut Gun Shop right next door, and we couldn’t be happier. A big plus is I am less than 7 miles from all my family. I have been blessed with a great wife that stood behind me with all my crazy business endeavors and a warm loving supportive family. I give thanks to the almighty for making my last wish come through as they say, I am living the dream…. Literally.Now that brings me to my next story, and yes this happened to me, It actually happened to my wife and me on the very first day of a new year.The year is 2014, and my wife and I stayed up at our Lake House in Lake View Estates in the Poconos. You have to remember at this time I am still living in Allentown in the Lehigh Valley. We have owned this second home for 13 years and tried to spend our holidays with family and friends in the Scranton area. It was New Year’s Eve and we spent the night at a gala event at my nephew Louie’s house. Yes, it is the same die-hard hunting Louie my nephew that is mentioned in my other hunting adventures in my previous stories. We always enjoyed ourselves immensely at these parties and had far to much homemade wine and great Italian food that I usually had to be rolled or carried home.But the next morning my wife and I decided to head home to Allentown so we could relax a bit before we both had to go back to work to our regular jobs. My wife Mem was also holding down two full-time jobs, one as the Parish Secretary for St. Joseph, and other running a vending business with over 30 machines in the field. But in June of 2018 Mem has also retired, now she just drives me crazy with honey do’s and is my main sidekick in the Hunters Hut Gun Shop business, ok back to the story.It was January 1, 2014. The start of a brand new year. If I knew what was in store for me on this very first day I would have never left the Lake House. It was a bitterly cold day at 18 Degrees and the wind was really whipping making it feel even colder. With everybody nursing hangovers from the previous night’s New Year’s Eve party, we decided to leave a little early for home and started packing the jeep for the trip home.The year before I purchased a brand new Jeep Wrangler Sahara, stick shift. This Jeep was originally purchased to pull behind our 36 ft. Diesel Pusher motor home. That was another stage of our lives that could be written into a book, maybe I will do this happened to me on our motor home travels. OMG, everything from exploding poop tanks to getting our rear jeep window blown out while traveling. Hmm, there seems to be a coincidental occurrence to this particular Jeep and road disasters, maybe it was a good thing I sold it. Ok back to the story.We made all the usual rounds through the house and were all packed. We always took what we call the back way home. This included jumping on Rt 380 South, to RT 80 West, to Rt 33 South and finally the double deuce of death Rt 22 West. All in all, it was about a 65-mile drive, just perfect when we wanted to make a quick escape and get away for the weekend. I was born and raised in Dunmore and this area was always considered home for me, even though I have been out of the area for over 40 years. I didn’t expect any traffic since it was New Year’s Day plus we were leaving at about 10:30 AM in the morning. All the party goers should still be in bed at this time, and it seemed they were, the road was almost deserted, the keyword here is almost. Ya never know what’s lurking in the bushes ☺I got on RT 380 South right outside of Gouldsboro and started cruising down the road at a pretty good clip. The Jeep Sahara stick was in 5th gear and the speedometer was pushing past 75 MPH. Like I said the day was clear and cold, and my mind started drifting off to what I had to accomplish at work the next day, the road was almost empty and Mem was playing candy crush on her iPhone next to me. Ho hum I am at ease and all's right with the world, when suddenly I look down the road about 100 yards ahead, I see some kind of movement, in a flash out of my peripheral vision on my right I see this thing launch into the air, the wingspan seems enormous and it looks like a B52 just taking off, I was thinking what the hell is that?. As it starts to take a path in front of the jeep I see the tail feathers and alarm bells start ringing in my head, holy crap it’s a TURKEY, a REALLY BIG TURKEY…….. BOOM….. You know what they, oh officer it all happened so fast..!!! Now remember the stick shift is still in 5th gear and I am closer to 80 MPH on impact. BOOM…..what the hell…my windshield implodes, my world is blacked out, with the 25 lb tom hitting square in front of my windshield. My mind goes into overdrive and everything is happening at a slow speed. My first thought is I have to slow this Jeep down, I can’t see a damn thing in front of me. I hit the brakes HARD and downshift at the same time, the Jeep careens to the left, I let off the breaks fearing that I am going to roll this sucker, then to the right, Mem is scared literally speechless and is hanging on for dear life. I am still in the middle of the road rocketing down the highway, as I complete the shift the damn turkey comes rolling in slow motion through my windshield, kicking wildly with its legs. When it hit the windshield some of the glass slit part of its neck, it was spraying blood and glass into my face and hair, not to mention it’s still thrashing and kicking legs were tearing at me underneath my neck, I can’t see a bloody thing, my mind was racing I was saying to myself calm down, calm down. You want to talk about a nightmare, man I was living it. I look back on this and I almost never wear my glasses while driving, but I did have them on that day. I think they saved my eyesight from the exploding glass and bloody Turkey parts.Finally, I yank the wheel hard to the right, leave the highway and end up on the berm, once there I slam on the breaks and finally come to a stop. I can’t believe it, the damn Turkey is still in my lap kicking and flopping around. I have had it with this bird, I open the door, grab the bird and smash it to the ground, I then proceed to kick a field goal to the back of the jeep. Mem comes running around to my side of the Jeep, she says oh my God Jim…. I am covered in blood, thank God it wasn’t mine….I have glass particles all over me and in my hair. I open my car door and there's blood and glass all over the dash, seat, and floor, with a perfect hole in my windshield, where mister Turkey made his entrance. Let me tell you, brother, if you know me you know I am a man of faith, I had to have a guardian angel with me in that car that day, I really don’t know how we ever survived. The bloody mess and the now dead turkey lay in a heap 15 yards behind the jeep. People would ask me later on when I would tell them the story, why didn’t you take the Turkey home with you. Man, I wanted nothing to do with that bird from hell, I left him to rot at the side of the road.Ok so now here is the thing, we are about 60 miles from home, I have a BIG hole in the middle of my windshield, and it’s a brisk 18 degrees out. Mem says how on earth are we ever going to get home. I said to her I will stand outside and guide you, get the ice scraper and punch out the rest of the window, we will drive home. We really had no choice, being the holiday we would probably have waited for hours before a tow truck or help would have arrived. I had some rags in the back seat and we cleaned up the blood and glass as best we could, turned the heater on HIGH and away we went. We passed a PA state police on the way home, but he didn’t even blink and saw that I was driving without a complete windshield. Go figure.So YES my friends This Happened to Me, but you know I am still around to tell the tale. God willing and the sun will rise tomorrow, I will still be able to add a few more tales before my final round up.Take Care and May God Bless.JCP….. Turkey killer extraordinaire…..LOL

New Zealand / Fantasy Island, March 2009...

(05/07/2015) ​New Zealand / Fantasy Island,  March 2009The LONG SHOTWell we were off on another hunting adventure. The date is March 2009 and my two buddies Dr. Gary Wadsworth and the die hard bow hunter, Dr. Lou Genello and I are headed for New Zealand to hunt with Alpine Hunting New Zealand with Shane Quinn. We will be hunting Red Stag, Chamois, Tahr, and Fallow deer, and what ever might cross our gun site that is legal tender.After a very long flight we landed in New Zealand and were met by my guide for the trip Wayne, a very friendly and likeable fellow. We had a two hour ride back to our camp and one thing becomes apparent right off the bat, New Zealand has millions and millions of domestic sheep. They are virtually everywhere. Ahhh but the scenery and landscape are spectacular. The beautiful mountains are literally endless, it seems there is a mountain peak for every half mile of land. Many times during the hunt I would be sitting on a majestic plateau and just stare at the beautiful vast domain of endless skies and mountainous peaks. These are the sights and feelings that stay with you for ever in your mind and heart. There will be times after you have long left this magical land that the only way you know you will ever return, is in the memories of your mind.Our lodge was absolutely first class, and the view from an enormous deck out back reached for miles and miles across the gorgeous terrain. Numerous times we would see Stags and Fallow deer right out our back door feeding or moving from one tree line to the other. We also had a full compliment of vehicles, from quads for every hunter to two helicopters for quick game pick up in the high rugged mountains.I have to take a side step here and tell you a little bit about the title, The Long Shot. I have always, always loved firearms ever since I was a little kid, and I have a very large gun collection to prove it. I have many handguns, shotguns, bows and rifles. But what really, really sets my trigger, is RIFLES, large ones, small ones, fat ones, skinny ones. I love the way they look and feel, but most of all I love to shoot little tiny groups over long distances. I won’t go into all the calibers I have, but it is quite a bit. Now like I said I have many different rifles, some very old, some classics, more than a few full blown customs, but one rifle in my battery is my favorite, it is my go to rifle. It is a bone stock Remington 700 LSS, (Laminated Stainless Steel) in 300 RUM (Remington Ultra Magnum). Remington stopped making this rifle way back in 2001. I bought this rifle many years ago for my first Elk hunt and it has bagged almost every exotic big game animal since then, all except for my cape buffalo in Africa. This is the deadly rifle I would be using in New Zealand for all my hunting. Now back to the hunt.First animal up is the majestic Red Stag. You actually have to hear a Stag roar to believe the sound that they make. It’s not a high pitched bugle squeal like a bull Elk, but a deep low guttural roar, some what like a lion at night in Africa when he’s roaring to let everybody know that he is here, and he is king. In the rut the Red Stags are very vocal, and the hills are alive with their music, it’s something that once you hear it, you will never ever forget.After we got settled in, we went out for a bit of scouting; we couldn’t hunt on the first day of our arrival. Shane has over 7,000 acres of prime mountain wilderness, and we did our moving around and scouting by quad. Wayne and I broke off from the group, and on our 4th stop on yet another gorgeous valley we spotted four Red Stags. This one in particular had a brow tine that curved out like an S hook. I told Wayne I was looking for a Stag that was very symmetrical high and wide on both sides and this guy seemed to fit the bill. The trick was could we find him tomorrow when legal hunting hours prevailed.The next morning we were up and had breakfast and were out the door well before sun up. We went directly to the valley were we spotted the stag from the night before. Nope nothing doing, we did see some Stags but they either were out of range or the rack just wasn’t right. Later in the morning after traveling over hill and dale we went back to where we spotted the big guy the night before. As we were glassing the valley below we heard this ruckus coming from over the knoll on our far side, it was a sound like battling bucks make when they clash. As we peaked over the knoll, down below was this Stag beating the living hell out of a dead tree in a muddy hollow. When we got a better look it was old S hook in the flesh. I got out my shooting sticks and got ready for the shot, I told Wayne that this was going to be a chip shot; He said what do you mean by that mate? I said I mean it’s an easy shot, my laser range finder said it was 165 yards. He said yeah right and take him when you can, just let him get out of the muddy wallow before you shoot. The Stag finished trashing the dead tree and decided to make his way up the knoll,  BOOM one shot, one Stag, at the shot he went 5 yards and fell over dead. Wayne turned to me and said what bloody hell kind of a canon are you shooting? I said the mighty 300 RUM and laughed out loud. He said the next animal you shoot will have to be a bit farther out to give you a challenge with that boomer. At that time I didn’t relies that I would have to wait three days before I would get that second long shot that he was talking about. Just as I was wondering on how the hell we were going to get this 700 lb Stag out of this hilly ravine, Wayne called up on the radio and said Shane is on his way with the chopper. That’s right, they flew over the downed Stag, hooked up a rope and air lifted him right to the meat cooler at camp. This saved many hours of back braking work.On my way back to camp Shane asked me if I was ready to try for Chamois and Tahr on the South Island. He said the weather was always a bit tricky there; if I can get my gear and be ready in an hour? I said sure, and just like that I was off to the South island, a two hour ride in a small airplane that turned out to be torture because of flying through some very bad weather.We landed at an airport to meet our Chopper pilot and went over the rules and regulations on how we were to get out of this egg beater after it hovered on a mountain side. After a 30 minute dissertation on how to bail out I sort of knew this wasn’t going to be a cake walk. My stomach was still doing flip flops from the terrible flight in, and when I went in the chopper and started dive bombing between the mountain canyons I knew I was in trouble and going to loose it. Not once but four times we had to land in the mountains because I was physically sick. After the fourth time we gave up and headed for camp where I could try and recover for a morning hunt.The next morning dawned bright and cold and we were off again. After about 30 minutes we spotted some Chamois on a distant mountain side. A quick landing about a half mile away and off we went. The cliffs and ridges are very treacherous, it would have taken days to hike up into these mountains, but with the chopper it saved a lot of time. We stalked into about 100 yards of the Chamois and a well place shot to the neck and it was over. Next up would be a Tahr, the beautiful creature with the long flowing blond hair that dances over mountain ridges like a ballerina on a dance floor. The next 7 hours we had four different stalks and could not get with in 400 yards of these animals before they spotted us and took off. Once running down hill they are almost impossible to hit. I switched to a semi automatic 30-06 that the guide had but still couldn’t get a shot.The next day up very high on a mountain ridge we spotted four bulls. I was using the borrowed 30-06 and blew the first shot at the closest bull; this started their head long flight down the mountain at about a hundred miles an hour. The path they would be taking would lead them approximately 40 yards in front of me, I yelled switch to my guide, and as I gave him the 30-06 he gave me a semi auto 12 gauge Benelli with buck shot. As the Tahr rocketed pass me at about 35 yards I fired six times in succession, bam, bam, bam, bam ,bam and bam. My guide looked at me and said you missed, I said no way did I miss that blond bomb shell six times. As we glassed the Tahr, he went about 100 yards up to the top of the next ridge, there I saw him falter, stop, and fall all the way down the mountainside, right into the swirling river. Now how the hell are we going to get him now I asked? My guide said, no worries mate that is what the chopper is for. Well let me tell you watching my guide hanging from a rope from the chopper, being lowered down to the rivers edge to rope this downed Tahr and air lift him out was something to behold. I was thinking these guys are nuts, they don’t pay them enough for this kind of work.Well three down and maybe a nice fallow deer to go. So it was off back to the North Island and to try for a beautiful Fallow Deer with the palmated antlers. Wayne my guide said I tell you what hot shot; if you shoot this fallow deer at over 250 yards I will give you a special discount of $500 bucks. You see everything in New Zealand has a price tag associated with it, that being the case I said you are on buddy boy.The next few days found us sitting on these huge plateaus where you could actually see for miles and miles. The view is outstanding and you could see spot fallow deer at extreme ranges. It just so happens that Wayne finds this beautiful fallow deer buck at about 255 yards and says I will knock off $1000 if you can take him from here. I laid my backpack down and lasered the buck at just over 255 yards, still a straight shot with no hold over for the 300 RUM, I said you’re on kemosabie . Boom one shot and the buck spins in a circle and collapses, holy SH**T Wayne shouts and claps me on the back. Again my old remmy comes through with a beautiful one shot kill.Well I have completed my wish list for this trip but Wayne isn’t finished with me yet, you see I still have two days of hunting left. Now Wayne wants me to shoot an animal at over 350 yards with the magic 300 RUM. The next day we chase Sika deer over hill and dale, and when we finally do get a true 10 point monster in our sights I get cold feet because of the cost of the animal, I am adding up in my mind what I all ready spent and figured if I shot this Sika deer at that price I wouldn’t be able to afford food for the next five years. He was within range of the RUM at a lasered 350 yards, but at almost $7K for this beauty I decided not to shoot. After I described his rack to my  nephew, he said lets go get him, but try as we may chasing him over mountain top after mountain top we never could get a shot at that great buck again. I will be kicking myself in the butt for years to come for passing up on this magnificent trophy. As Wayne and I were sitting up on the very peak of a very high rugged mountain, two mountain ranges over a 14 point Red Stag roared and popped out on a sand bar, way below the timer line. Wayne looks at me and says, if you could drop him with one shot from this distance I will give him to you at the management stag price of juts $1000 bucks….Oh oh here we go again. Hmmmm now this is tempting a second management Stag at only $1K…. I broke out the laser range finder binoculars; it reads just over 369 yards away. I know there has to be some holdover involved because my rifle was sighted in dead for 250 yards, again my back pack is my rifle rest, there is literally no wind to speak of, and as I get ready for the shot… I say you are on. Just before I pull the trigger, Wayne says if you shoot him and it takes more than one shot, or you wound him and don’t get him it will be $3K out of your pocket. This adds a little bit of suspense to the situation, but I am confident in my shooting ability and the power of the 300 RUM which can easily shoot 500 yards if called upon to accomplish the task. Drum roll if you please…. Ka Boom… at the shot the Stag lunges forward and out of sight, he was standing on the ridge overlooking a ravine, but you could hear the impact of the bullet as it connected…whomp..that solid thud as it hit home. I said he’s down, but we couldn’t see him because he went over the edge. We were two mountain peaks over and had to walk about a mile around to try and find the correct sand bar the Stag was on when I shot. Well it took about an hour but we finally located him, when he went over the edge he got caught up it the top of a huge bush like tree and it took all we had to get him on the ground and to finally dress him out. But one call back to camp and the chopper was in the sky to fly this big guy back to camp.And to top off the hunt, my nephew Louie made me a challenge I couldn’t refuse, he said if you were a real man you would bag a Ram using his bow. You see Louie, the ol die hard bow hunter, bagged his Red Stag and Ram by shooting his bow not a rifle. Well the next morning Wayne and I were off to try and bag a RAM with the bow. The Gods of New Zealand were with me this whole hunt, and they weren’t going to desert me any time soon, after a long stalk of sliding on my butt down hill for 300 yards I got to within 40 yards and I put an arrow through a beautiful full curl ram to finish my NZ quest.New Zealand is truly a Fantasy Island when it comes to exotic hunting and the beautiful outdoors. The mountain vistas and rugged country of the North Island are breath taking, and lush green carpet of the South Island has to be seen to be believed. It’s just another of Gods wonders here on earth that has so enhanced the experience of life when hunting with family and friends. Thank you Lord, you did good when you made New Zealand. And most of all thank you for giving me the chance in this life time to experience it. Until next hunt… take care….

Christians First Buck

(05/07/2015) ​Christians First BuckWell the date is December 3rd 2011 and it will be a day to remember for my grandson Christian Quinn and myself to boot. Hmmm you may ask, what monumental occasion happened to celebrate this date for an eleven-year-old boy? Well to answer this, it will just take four words…..   Christian shot his first Buck.You see on this roller coaster we call life; there are many, many FIRSTS in a young boys life. Naturally there is his first words, probably mama, dada, or monnnney. Or his very first steps as a biped tumbling across the floor. Then….even before his first kiss and first girlfriend comes his first homerun or touchdown or goal. Our life seems to be made up of FIRST times of events that mark some very special days. But you know there is one FIRST that is not decided by age, attempted tries, or any amount of hard work. It is a young or even an old persons FIRST DEER. This is NEVER a gimmie or a given that will happen like a baby’s first tooth. Some people have hunted for twenty years and NEVER even shot a deer, but still keep on trying. It may take some luck, but you still have to be trained to pull the trigger and shoot accurately to succeed, oh and of course the deer Gods have to be smiling on you to boot.You see you can be 10 years of age or 99 years young it really doesn’t matter, when that special day comes you will remember it always and forever and ever. That bond between two hunters on that first deer taken weather it be a doe or a buck is a very special moment. For the young man or women who just achieved the feat it is an accomplishment usually that was long sought after. For the partner, if you are lucky enough to be with him, you all ready know what it means to you, especially if you are a dad, grandfather, uncle, or special friend who helped accomplish the feat for the young person or individuals quest of the Wily Whitetail.Now on with Christian’s hunt and the story of a young boy’s first beautiful Eight Point Buck. It started the week before the opener of the PA 2011 Rifle Season. I had been hunting hard for a total of five days on and off so far in the Archery season. I hunted in some beautiful weather and even in a freak late October snowstorm that dumped over 13 inches of snow in the Pocono Mountains. Well in the over 60 hrs I all ready spent in the wood lot behind our Lake house, and seeing a lot of the bucks running around in my back yard, I had a pretty good idea of what was available. I knew there were at least two beautiful eight pointers, and real nice seven point. There also were about eight other little bucks running around mixed in with the does and yearlings. I almost had a high white eight point on two different occasions from my tree stand, but I could not close the deal. Either he was behind trees, or to far, or just to darn sneaky, I could never get a clean shot at him with the Cross Bow.Well as luck would have it, I could not take the first two days of rifle season off from work because of prior commitments. But I did promise Christian we would definitely hunt the first Saturday of the deer season and be in the woods before sunlight.Well Saturday dawned clear and COLD and the temperature dipped to a brisk 19 degrees on the old thermometer out on the back porch. I was a bit concerned because at only eleven years of age, Christian didn’t have the heavy hunting gear to keep him warm for hours on end in a tree stand yet. I had him bundled up with multiple layers of pants and jackets and a heavy orange hood and hat to keep him warm. The previous week I had him sight in the Remington .243 I got for a gift from my cousin Frankie for my grandkids. He did outstanding at the range and shot a multiple shot group in ½ inch at 100 yards. Christian has all ready proved to be a dead shot with his BB gun, .22, .20 gauge shotgun and now he added the .243 Remington to his list. My youngest grandson Brandon who is only nine has also proven to be a great shot following in his big brother’s footsteps. With all the guns I have bought them so far, I am trying to make sure I have hunting partners in the years to come…LOLI didn’t know how the first week of hunting season went up here, but as a rule the area isn’t hunted hard at all anymore. Well we were in my double man ladder stand by 6:15 AM before the sun came up.  We did see one loan deer making a hasty retreat at about 9:30 AM heading the other way but couldn’t even tell if it was a Buck or a Doe. We stuck it out for hours but the rest of the time all we seen were squirrels and a few woodpeckers. To top it off it was stone cold as a witch’s heart. So after almost four hours I decided it was time to do some mooching, hunter talk for (moving slowly through the woods looking for deer) and see what was down near the swamp. Nothing doing not even a tail popped up, so we decided to head back to the Lake House to warm up and have some lunch. We knew Nonna was there waiting to fill us up with hot grill cheese sandwiches and some soup.After lunch we decided to give the tree stand another try. Christian was wound up and wanted to start shooting squirrels, but I reigned him in and told him squirrel season was over for the time being. Besides you don’t shoot squirrels with a .243…. you know these young hunters tend to get a little nuts in hunting season. Well were just leaving the house heading back to the main path when CJ says “Look Pop Pop , there’s a deer coming in”. As I looked straight ahead I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was the wily white eight point I have been chasing the past few weeks. Now this is 2:00 PM in the afternoon and I hardly expected to run smack dab into him at this time of day, at least by this old hunter anyways. I instructed Christian not to move, the buck suddenly spotted us and stopped dead in his tracks, ears back, ready to bolt, about 60 yards away.. He was facing us so I whispered to Christian not too shoot until he turns broadside. After a few seconds the deer bolted to the left and I thought that was it, he’s gone. But to my amazement after only jumping about 15 yards he stops broadside and looks back. I said to Christian you got him in your scope, and his response was BANG….. I guess he did!  At the shot the nice eight pointed jumped straight up in the air, curled up a little and hit the ground running. After shooting many bucks in my life time I could tell he was hit hard and Christian made a GOOD shot.  As I watched the deer run off about 50 more yards I saw the white tail flip out and up. The meaning was clear, and I knew the big eight was down. We tracked him to the spot of the shot but there was no blood. We moved slowly back to where I saw the deer flip, when I kneeled down and took a look, I could see the beautiful eights white underbelly laying on the ground about 30 yards away. This is the MOMENT I have waited for a very long time. When Christian walked up to that downed buck, he would forever be immortalized as a deer hunter. His eyes were wide with pride and his smile was a mile long. And believe me, how ever good it was for CJ, it was just as rewarding for me. I was so thank full to GOD that I could be a part of his first hunting big game success. And GOD willing, I plan on doing the same thing for my youngest grandson, Brandon.There are things in life that happen and stay with us for all our life. Maybe it’s just me, but a boy’s first buck is something very special. I plan on remembering this special day for Christian by writing this story and getting his eight pointer mounted to remember the occasion.SOOoooooo get ready Brandon, because your are slated to be THE NEXT DEER HUNTER in OL POP POP’s life.GOD BLESS my Grandsons…… Love always POP POP…

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