Brief Background of The American Jager

As long as I can remember I considered myself to be a Hunter. Armed with my Crossman pump BB gun I killed more squirrels, rabbits, sparrows, turtles, frogs and snakes in one Summer than I have my entire life hunting Big Game. The "Big Game" back then all required head shots and the maximum amount of pumps on the old Crossman. I can still remember the site of the BB glistening in the Sun as it dropped into the prey and then coming out of my perch to perform the Coup de' Grace. I learned about life and death and how precious both are. I never was much of a bow hunter and I always played the role of cowboy in Cowboys and Indians. I was taught at a very young age that God, Guns, and Guts made America strong. That being said I've owned some nice bows in my life and have taken a few Whitetail Does with a bow. Growing up in the Midwest as a teenager you could not hunt with a rifle, shotgun slug and muzzleloader was the only legal firearm choices. Which makes absolutely no sense as a muzzleloader and most "slug barrelled" shotguns have rifled barrels, which makes them, you guessed it, rifles. Anyway I'll get back on track here. Before I left for Basic Training my father to took me out for one last squirrel hunt. It was EPIC. We got our limits and I'll never forget one squirrel I shot was almost "stolen" by a big Great Horned Owl. The squirrel was hit but had hunkered down on the branch. I was thinking about whether or not I should shoot the squirrel again to get him off of that branch when the Great Horned Owl appeared. I marvelled at how fast and effortlessly he glided through the branches. Then I quickly realized he was going for my squirrel and as he was swooping in to snatch my squirrel I went ahead and shot, knocking the squirrel off of the branch. The owl looked my way while gliding over the branch where the squirrel had been, and his eyes pierced my soul. At that time I justified my greediness by reasoning that in the least I saved him from eating some lead pellets (I had crunched on many in my youth, but I'm still here!). But that Winter of '83-'84 was a cold one and I still feel guilty about shooting that squirrel out from under the talons of that beautiful Owl. Oh well. Dad and I had a great time together that day and I think that is how a Father and Son should spend their days together. At least spend ONE DAY HUNTING with you kids. Golf and sports are fun and there can be lessons taught, but there are more significant lessons to be learned from the ancient art of the Hunt. Anyhoo, I ended up spending most of my adult life in the U.S. Army and can honestly say I did not get to hunt as much as I would have liked. For instance I was stationed at Fort Carson, Colorado for almost FIVE years. I was a man in my PRIME, but never got to hunt. I never drew an Elk tag, but even if I did I would not have been able to fill it as we were in the field during most of the hunting seasons or even deployed to Haiti in the Fall season of '94. I shot some big ole Coyotes though. Anyway it wasn't until I was stationed in Germany and walked into the Baumholder Rod & Gun Club https://www.facebook.com/pages/Baumholder-Outdoor-Recreation-Rod-Gun-Club/240180796005650 and asked "what's going on in here?", that I started to get my hunt back on. What I slowly began to realize is that I was a hunter, but being called a Jäger was what I was... well more on all that later.

A couple of notes about the video. As you can see the entire hunt lasted 2 minutes and 24 seconds. I had just gotten setup and had the camera pointed toward me so I could make an opening statement, when all of sudden there was the Rehbuck, so I failed to point the camera toward the deer. The Buck was 105m away and the heart shot spun the Rehbuck around and he dropped instantly. I was shooting a Browning chambered in 308 Winchester. Please enjoy the video of my "First Hunt of the Big Return"! May God bless you and these United States.

PS: You are not going to see any "high fives" or "fist pumps" here. Unless I discover that Saint Hubertus, the Patron Saint of Hunting, was into chest bumps and such...

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