- November 23, 2024
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There's a macho image associated with hunting — big, brawny men in camouflage with guns and knives and muscles and trucks, maybe sporting a mustache or cowboy hat. You know the type.
Eleven-year-old Morgan Stephens, who pairs her camo and rifle with a ponytail, doesn't quite fit in.
But Morgan, the daughter of local hunting guide Larry Stephens, can still place a shot on a turkey and could probably clean a deer without too much help from dad, Stephens said.
I headed out before daybreak Sunday, with the father-daughter hunting team for Morgan’s first deer hunt.
The family leases hunting land in western Flagler County, out near the farm country around County Road 305, and the three of us piled into Stephens’ pickup and bounced out along a sandy dirt road then hiked to a site where Stephens had laid out 50 pounds of corn beneath a tree stand a few nights before.
I had never been on a hunt, and although the walk out was a hike, it wasn’t the kind I was used to. Hikers — especially backpackers trying to cover big miles — often barge through the backcountry, eyes glued to a map and compass or GPS, measuring the landscape in paces and miles.
Hunters move slowly. They step carefully to avoid the twigs that snap underfoot and spook nearby game. They stop. They kneel. They check the dirt for signs, reading it like a backcountry bulletin board that reveals who went where, and when.
Morgan, I could see, had this all figured out.
She followed her father, stepping where he stepped, and pointed out tracks left by deer, hog and wild turkey.
When we arrived at the feeding site, every kernel of corn Stephens had set out a few nights before was gone, and we climbed into a 15-foot tree stand to wait it out, hoping the deer would still show.
Morgan held her rifle, a .243 Winchester, as we peered off towards the distant brush, looking for four-legged silhouettes.
Owls cawed. A group off squirrels chased each other around a nearby oak. And Stephens whispered hunting stories, all the while keeping an eye on the woods.
But the deer weren't interested, and we climbed down after an hour, feeling defeated. On the hike back, Morgan found a field of bright yellow flowers and picked a bouquet for her mother.
She hadn’t gotten her first deer, but this was a true outdoorswoman: No way she was heading home empty-handed.
