Whitetail deer hunting with my father is something I will never forget. There was nothing like those cold winter nights at deer camp laying in my sleeping bag beside my dad. I would say "Good night dad, I love you." and he would say, "I love you too, son." Those words were priceless. I didn't understand how much it meant to my father when I killed my first deer, until I experienced it for myself. The words "Daddy, can I go deer hunting with you?" are words that will stick with me forever.

I’ll never forget the trip my son Dyllan and I took to Roseland Plantation for his first deer hunt. Roseland is about six thousand acres inside the levee of the Mississippi River. One of the many special things about this hunt was that I was able to capture it on video. My good friend, Kenneth Lancaster, was nice enough to follow along and video Dyllan and me for four days.

The first afternoon Dyllan and I were sitting in a lean-up ladder stand looking over a food plot. I had him sitting between my legs so he could reach the shooting rest. There we were sitting in our stand, freezing to death and hoping to see a deer. It was late afternoon, the sun had gone down and all we had seen were a couple of squirrels. Just before shooting light faded, Dyllan spotted a deer coming into the food plot. My heart started racing nervously. When the deer got a little closer, I noticed it had a rack, but it was only a four point. After discussing it with Kenneth and knowing the potential of Roseland, I decided to let the little buck pass. Notice, I decided to let him pass. Dyllan didn't care if it was just a spike; he just wanted to pull the trigger. Unfortunately, that was the only deer we saw that day. The walk to the truck and the rest of the night, all I heard from Dyllan was "I can't believe you didn't let me shoot that deer!" After thinking about it, Kenneth and I felt bad about it.

The next morning ended the same as the evening before. We were set up on the edge of a field looking over some oak trees. The first deer to show up was a buck, a little bigger buck than before: a six point. Again, there we were stuck between a rock and a hard place. In the back of my mind were all of those deer hanging on the walls at Roseland camp and I wanted so badly for Dyllan to kill a nice deer. I knew Roseland was the place to do it. That deer walked all around our stand and we still let it go; looking for a bigger deer. Oh, it really got bad at camp because the next two days we didn't see a deer at all.

With one afternoon left we decided to go into the woods with a positive attitude. Today was the day. Right before dark, I noticed a deer about a hundred yards away, on the other end of the food plot, eating. I picked up my binoculars and thought, "Where did that deer come from?" When I got my binoculars on the deer I instantly knew it was a shooter. I whispered to Dyllan "Big buck, get ready son!" Dyllan looked at me like "Dang daddy, you’re gonna let me shoot one!?" He eased his rifle up like he wasn't nervous at all. I was the one sweating, scared to death. He couldn't see through the scope so I took off his jacket, rolled it up, put it on the shooting rest and propped the gun on top of the jacket. By this time, the deer was almost out of the food plot. My heart was pounding. I was more nervous for him than I ever remember being for anything else. It seemed like the whole world got quiet when Dyllan said, "Okay daddy, I can see him, I'm ready." I had the hardest time getting the words "squeeze the trigger" out of my mouth. Dyllan squeezed the trigger and the deer melted. He dropped him in his tracks! Tears were running down my face like never before. I couldn't breathe or anything. All I could do was squeeze him. I then realized how good my father must have felt. It's a feeling I can't describe. You know, thinking back on it, it would not have mattered if Dyllan had killed that four point because it wasn't about the size of the animal it was the time I spent with my son.