Jun 20, 2026 7 min read

Maybe we have bought into the myth? Possibly we have sipped the Kool-Aid, if not having drunk deeply from the wash bin, but I have seen far too many pictures and stories and brag mags that highlight the successes of four-year-olds killing a monstrous 10-point buck with a 20-inch spread. I have listened to enough tales of kindergartners turning their noses up on bucks of a lifetime so they can harvest “Mr. Big.”

Now don’t dismiss me as a case of sour grapes but rather permit us to gaze into our conservational crystal ball and create dividends for future generations of outdoorsmen/women.

First off, I applaud anyone who has their young ones in the field, be it fishing, hunting, shooting, trapping, etc. Any time afield with our youngsters is quality time, for sure. Second, successful hunters breed successful hunters … if we can get them to stick with the sport, and that is a big if, maybe we create a hunting partner for life. Maybe that young man or woman will enjoy hunting decades from now as a result. Agreed, many of these concerns are out of our immediate grasp and control. Third, I get the feeling that our current online culture is creating a bit of elitism, if not snobbery, in promoting the idea that anything short of a Boone and Crockett animal is worth celebrating. And we are led to believe the end most surely justifies the means, at least in the short haul.

An acquaintance of mine was recounting the story of his son’s first deer taken at age 6. From the onset, it appeared, at least to me, that this was the hunt of a lifetime. In reality, I came to learn that this was the child’s first hunt. In actuality, he packed his little guy up in a sleeping bag, carried him to the deer blind at, oh, dark 30 and put him back to bed in a doghouse blind until mid-morning. As junior rose from his slumber, played a few video games and snacked on a breakfast bar, dad directed him to the swivel chair and pointed out the deer that had been preselected for harvest via constant camera monitoring prior to the hunt. The rifle was cradled in a pre-set tripod which only needed a few degrees of adjustment in order to facilitate success. No doubt, it was a beautiful buck. From the pictures that ensued, I would have guessed this hunt received no less advanced preparation than a 30-day safari to Tanganyika with full bearer support, a well-supplied chop box and a celebratory village dance at evening’s end. There must have been 40 or more pictures taken, only a few of which made the cut for the video production that ensued. Cue the music and credits and call it a wrap. Story told.

At this time, I must confront my plausible envy: Does my Tupperware bowl indeed contain a few sour grapes? Am I jealous that I did not share this lucky youngster’s stead in life? Am I bitter because I have not killed a deer close to his in almost 50 years of hunting? Nah, I don’t think so. OK, maybe a little.

My questions, which I did not dare ask, were, “What role did our little guy play in this hunt?” Did he scout? Did father and son hone their shooting skills together in the preseason? Did grandpa pass down this legacy from father to son to grandson for the family to enjoy the culmination of tradition as a fraternity? Did the young man learn anything? As far as I would come to know, none of this occurred in our story. The little boy spent almost zero time in the outdoors. I don’t think they spent much, if any time, hiking or scouting or preparing. To be fair, I have seen some tiny boys and girls raised in hunting clans who possessed incredible levels of woodsmanship at an early age and I celebrate that kind of culture for it is earned. And that may be the crux of my theme. It was “earned.”

During my years in Mercer and Venango counties, I had the good fortune of being adopted by a clan of fast-pitch softball locals who took me under their collective wings and made a sportsman of me. They didn’t have to do it but rather chose to adopt me into their Barkeyville tribe. We shot our bows together. We drank beer together. We tracked downed deer in archery season as a group. It took some real work on occasion but working together made the experience, at least for me. Sometimes it was a doe shot for much needed meat. Often, it was in pursuit of a nice buck that was more likely to be recovered by a group body effort rather than a solo attempt. Sharing knowledge and experience upped the learning curve. Learning from mistakes was without a doubt the biggest teacher of success and make no mistake it was “our” collective success that was shared.

Following archery, the first morning of rifle season was spent hunting on our own. At lunch or after taking a deer in the first hours, the group migrated to one of the several “old guy stands” which were tower stands built on pilings from wood harvested from their own farms. Equipped with wood stoves, modified kitchens and sundry other accoutrements, lunch was prepared and the masses fed. Then the deer drives commenced for the youngsters. Job one was creating “success” for kids. If an adult was not supervising their own offspring, they were undoubtedly busting brush for somebody else’s kid. As soon as you scored, one became a driver.

Young people learned as they took part in the hunt and anyone and everyone contributed to their education. We worked for the good of the other guy. It was this communal effort which would change my life and hunting perspective forever. The older I get, the more I yearn for this mentality and the more frustrating it becomes in realizing such culture no longer exists in its primitive form. And that is indeed the shame of it.

I have tried to conjure up a bit of this juju as a hunter education instructor but have fallen well short of my intended goal. Hunter trapper education is alas, not hunting.

So my question is “How can we recreate it?” Or at best, “What can we offer our young people so that the magic is not lost to the ages?” Is a first doe taken worth celebrating? Does a scrapper forkhorn merit any less celebration than a Pope and Young specimen? My friend, Mark Phipps used to make the statement that “Any archery kill is a trophy.” It took me years to recognize the magnitude of his statement. As a more seasoned hunter, I’m inclined to agree with Phipper. My words may generate more questions than answers from my readership this week but I’m all ears if they promote ethics and result in more kids entering the woods in seasons to come.

Dave Bates writes a weekly outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter. He can be reached at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.com