Sometimes you see something you know you'll never experience again. This is where these stories lives on beyond the campfire.

Mads Hedensted

My first hunt

in 2005 • 20 km outside Ebeltoft, Denmark
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“I was 16 and had just passed the exam for my Danish hunting license.”

In Denmark we have a really strict hunting policy, where you have to pass numerous test in order to get your license. When my aunt invited me on a fall hunt, I was proud as can be armed with an over-under shotgun that I had inherited from my mother.

When the dogs were sent through a swamp area I had a fantastic time watching a deer and some different birds, but nothing within range. When the area had been swept we had to do a hounding, walking in a line through a field, again I was at the far left where nothing would come.

The hounding went well. There was brought down some pheasant and a hare, we only being 5 hunters and me, then at the end of the field there was a known fox hole. My aunt would flank around the fox hole and send the fox our way, but when she got around the outer side of some bushes there were no foxes but a deer, which sprang forward straight at us. The deer ran right at us, not seeing us until the last minute, where it tuned right presenting a perfect shoot. When I saw the deer I automatic shouldered my shotgun tracking the deer, then I froze! I, being at the end of the line I block the outer hunters’ shoots, just standing there aiming my gun at the deer until the hunter next to me shouted “SHOOT, DAMM IT!” Then I fired. I could not see if I had hit it, so I fired again. A million this racing in my mind I was still not sure if I had brought down the deer.

I opened my gun the spend cartridges popping down, starting to reload my hart racing “what if I had hit it and it was not dead?” Then the hunter next to me came over to shake my hand and to congratulate me. I looked up confused not seeing the deer anywhere, afraid it had run of. The hunter told me that my fist shoot had been a bit low but still a kill shot and my next shoot had been dead center and the deer lays approximately ten meter to my left in the stubble.

My aunt came over congratulating me and giving me a hunting knife. She was telling me that the knife used to belong to my grandfather and now she makes a gift out of it for me. We took the deer home for skinning and butchering, making a pate of the heart and liver seasoned with fresh green pepper corns – the best pate I have ever had!

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