Since my kids have been old enough to hunt, I have taken them hunting in our home state of Idaho as much as possible. My daughters have had success on elk, bears, and mule deer in the early years of their hunting careers. As my son got older, I was preparing to take him hunting as well and had a conversation with a friend who was talking about youth hunting opportunities in other states. In many cases, hunting out of state is very inexpensive for youth.

Unfortunately, my daughters were getting older with high school classes and sports, so it was harder for them to get away and miss a few days of school in the fall, but my son was young enough to capitalize on my newfound gem. Since that time, he and I have traveled to a few states and had the time of our lives. He is creeping up on high school now, and these trips will have to slow down for a while. However, spending this time with him has been invaluable to our relationship, and no doubt has cemented an even stronger bond between us that I hope continues to grow. I would encourage any of you interested in getting your kids into hunting to research other states and the opportunities they provide youth hunters. The price and the opportunities are almost too good to pass up!

Nebraska Bound

For several years, my friend Matt and I talked about traveling to Nebraska and hunting the area where he spent the early years of his life and where much of his family still lives. In the summer of 2021, Matt called and asked how serious I was and asked if I would like to join him on a hunt with him and his sons. I immediately jumped at the chance, and when doing some research, I found that a youth deer tag for a nonresident was only $8. I called and asked Matt if bringing my son Tripp would be an issue and he said yes, bring him! So, in mid-summer, we bought our tags and anxiously awaited our November hunt.

Nebraska was a long drive, and after arriving after dark, the alarm clock ringing well before daylight was a very unwelcome sound. Tripp and I sat overlooking a nice brushy draw between a harvested soybean and freshly harvested corn fields that morning. We spotted a few does and one decent buck that morning, but nothing close enough to shoot.

That morning was chilly, and Tripp was freezing, so that evening we borrowed a chair blind from Matt that we packed in and sat in as we overlooked the same draw as the morning hunt. Not long into our sit, Tripp exhausted from the long drive and early morning, was fast asleep, slumped over in his chair.

I was enjoying the evening when I caught movement on the ridge above as a good buck was hot-footing it out of the cover and heading for the corn field, where we didn’t have permission to hunt. I tried rousting Tripp, but he was sleeping hard so just before the buck was out of our lives forever, I fired, and he was down. We made our way over to the buck, and we were like two kids, overjoyed with the moment. I apologized to Tripp that he hadn’t got to shoot, and he said, “Dad, I always get to shoot; I’m glad you got him.”

We quartered the buck and, with the help of Matt and his boys, got him carried back to the truck. Tripp aided with the whole process, and it’s been neat watching him progress as an outdoorsman these past several years.

After a couple of days of hunting that area and some others with some close calls and plenty of deer sightings, we were back on our familiar perch on a beautiful evening. Tripp said an hour or so before dark, “There’s a deer up on the other side of the fence.” We carefully watched the doe and then noticed another deer moving in the brush behind her. Soon, the beautiful 10-point showed himself and came up and mounted the doe. They were in range but were on the other side of the fence. We didn’t have permission to hunt. Tripp pleaded with me to rattle to see if he would come our way. Figuring he already had a doe he was courting, I assumed it would be useless, but I obliged and smashed the antlers together. To my surprise, the buck snapped to attention and started our way but stopped just before the fence. I rattled lightly again, and he jumped the fence and disappeared into the thick brush but was headed to a large opening in front of us.

As we walked into the meadow, I told Tripp to get ready to shoot. At 200 yards, I grunted to stop the buck, and Tripp fired. He shot right over him, but the buck didn’t hardly react. Tripp quickly chambered another round and put a perfectly placed shot on the buck, and he was down. Walking up to that buck, I couldn’t have been more proud. We hugged, high-fived, laughed, and talked about our hunt and life. Moments like this one are special; I don’t take them for granted.

As we broke Tripp’s buck down, I couldn’t help but reflect on the many great trips we have already had together and many more hopefully to come.