Bear Grease - Ep. 386: This Country Life - Beach Shoes and Amy's First Deer

Episode Date: November 7, 2025

This episode is all about Brent's first born. His oldest daughter, Amy, decided she wanted to go deer hunting and had waited until becoming a teenager to do so. It was an occasion of firsts for them both and the lessons of that day still hold true. The opening story is one of Brent's favorites that he likes to tell about Amy as a toddler and it demonstrates how well she thinks things through, a quality that would help her 11 years later on her first deer hunt. Shop This Country Life Merch Connect with Brent and MeatEater MeatEater on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, and Youtube Clips Subscribe to the MeatEater Podcast Network on YouTube Shop This Country Life Merch Shop Bear Grease MerchSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

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Welcome to this country life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves. From Coon Hunting to Trotlining and Just General Country Living, and I want you to stay a while as I share my experiences and life lessons. This Country Life is presented by Case Knives from the Storemore Studio on Meat Eat Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcasts that Airways have to offer. All right, friends, grab a chair or drop that tailgate. I've got some stories to share. Beach Shoes and Amy's first deer.

You only get so many first in life, and the first time your first child decides to go hunting with you is one of them. Now, factor in that she's a teenager when she makes that decision, and it's even more special. When they're little, they more or less have to spend time with you. They ain't got a whole lot of choice, but when they're old enough to choose to do so, well, that's something altogether different.

And that's what we're talking about today. A hunt that took place 20 years ago this month. Today's show is all about my first baby girl. The one whose name cost a classmate of mine a quarter when we were both in the sixth grade. Amy and I are going deer hunting today, but first, I'm going to tell you this story. 31 years ago when my daughter Amy was three, I took her to town. But buy her some of those waiting shoes people wear it. to the beach when they go swimming.

My little girl was born, more mature and growing up than I am now. She more or less helped raise me instead of the other way around. She was always thinking and being observant of her surroundings, stating the obvious when the obvious seemed a little obscure. So we shopped for little girl waiting shoes, and we found some. Not surprisingly, Amy picked out a pair of pink ones. I found her size and took one out of the box for her to try on. I placed that shoe on her beautiful little square foot that looked more like a ham hawk

that should have been in a pot of beans than a foot on a little baby, and I told her to walk down the aisle and back to see if it felt all right. She stood up and she walked down the aisle, never taken her eyes off her foot with the waiting shoe, her head bobbing back and forth. she emphasized every other step. She got to the other end and turned and walked back to me in the same fashion. All the while she walked, she never took her eyes off that shoe. As she waddled back to where I was standing, I squatted down and asked her,

well, what do you think? My little blonde-haired beauty looked at me with her big old eyes, her face and demeanor as serious as I have ever seen. seen her and she said, Daddy, I think I want two of them. And that's just how that happened. She'd been 14 years old for nine months when she said, Daddy, I want to go deer hunting. Now, from a little girl, she loved to fish as long as I took the fish off her hook and baited it for her. I'd taken her with me to brush Doug Blines before she was old enough to start school. She'd wear her boots and her hunting clothes and complete with a camouflage.

flogged hairbow. We'd walk around in the woods a little here and there, and she'd grown up going to deer camp on family night. All the other kids were there to play with, and it was the social event of the season. We'd all sit around the fire before and after supper. The women folks eventually gathering up all the youngans that were too young to hunt the next day, had school, or would rather sleep in their own beds rather than a drafty old camphouse that varied in temperature from blistering hot and freezing cold depending the amount of wood that had been crammed into the stove. Now, had she wanted to stay and hunt or any of the other girl cubs in the family for that matter, she could have, and they could have.

But she and they chose not to, and for 14 years that was the way it was. Then she decided on her own that this was the year she wanted to go. Do you want to shoot? Yes, sir. All right, we'll go tomorrow. Now, all I had to do was hope she didn't change her mind, and it was all I could do to contain my excitement. I bought her some boots that were supposed to keep her feet more.

I dressed her in everything I could think of to keep her comfortable once we got on the stand. And I gave her a crash course on aiming through a scope, controlling her breathing and squeezing the trigger after we ascended the ladder to the buddy stand we both occupied. We were hunting in a hardwood flat that she wouldn't see for another 30 minutes when the sun started climbing into the sky. We passed the time snuggled up and giggling. Me asking her every few minutes if she was warm enough and she reassuring me that she was.

Amy is my first born, the first girl on my mother's side of the family, and was everyone's little princess, as you can well imagine. She's still mine and has held that title for all of her 34 years. She could read before she started school, has her grandfather's sense of humor, and she only sees the good in people, trust others beyond what most of them deserve, loves with her whole heart. And on that day when she could have been anywhere she wanted to be, she chose to sit with me in the cold, in the woods and in the dark.

Now, what kind of bird was that, Daddy? When will we see a deer? Is this gun going to kick? I answered every question as best I could, and when daylight started creeping in, I put a pair of headphones on her ears to protect them from the shot. I prayed would eventually come before she got too cold to stay any longer. A couple days before, I'd poured out some rice bran

about 50 yards away in front of that stand. The cream-colored pile of deer food was there for the take, by anything that wanted to stop. The first movement we saw heading toward that buffet was a mama coon and a couple of her kittens. They ate and played around the pile as if they'd stumbled upon a divine treasure. We watched them in silence, except for the giggling as the little ones climbed all over everything they could find, including their mama and each other. I first saw the dough as she slipped between the timber heading straight toward where that family

of Coons was feeding. And as soon as she entered into the little opening, Amy saw her too. I looked at her and I could see the excitement in her eyes and the increase in her breathing. Cold air turned into a white fog as she borderlined on hyperventilating. You got to calm down, honey. You got all the time in the world. I made sure her earmuffs were on and laid that raffle across the wrist in front of it. Doe crept closer and closer as she watched that family of Coons wading around and what she was wanting to eat.

She stopped and she stomped her foot, claiming that pile of groceries for herself. A Coons took the hint, moving along at a pace they seemed fairly familiar with, kind of like they'd been run off before and recognized their spot in the pecking order. Amy had slowed her respirations down to about 60 per mrs. minute and was intently listening to every whispered instruction I was given her. Really, teaching time was over. Now it was just a matter of calming her to the point where she could make an ethical shot. It was early.

I didn't care if the deer left. We weren't going to rush the shot, and she had up until the time she'd pull the trigger to say, Daddy, I don't want to do it. I was seated to her right, and she held that rifle firmly to her. her shoulder and she leaned forward, trying to get adjusted properly to the eye relief and find the deer in the crosshairs. Can you see the deer? No, sir. I looked at the scope. It was on nine power. I turned it back down to three. What about now? No, sir. Hmm. Why could she not see this deer? I looked at the deer and the orientation of the barrel. They weren't even close

to being similar. I told her to aim to the right and down. She did just that, and in a few seconds, she whispered excitedly. I see it. I see it. All right. Now, you see that crease right behind that deer's front shoulder? Yes, sir. Put the crosshairs right there in the middle of that deer. Tell me when you're there. The big old dough fed like she hadn't eaten in weeks, completely oblivious of the conversation going on 50 yards away. Okay, Dad, it's there. Sissy, I've taken this safety off. Are you ready?

Yes, sir. I pushed the safety off. I didn't ease it off. I wanted her to hear that audible clip. I wanted her to know that the only thing between that rifle firing or not firing was her. Now don't put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Then, just squeeze it slowly until it fires. It's not going to kick.

You ain't going to. to hear it, so don't be scared. I'm ready. The dough turned and was facing away, and I reached up and re-engaged the safety. She turned to look at me like, what now? I told her, just keep looking through the scope. When she turned back again, we'd start over. About that time I'd finish telling her that, the doe did, turn back broadside.

All right, are you ready? After a few seconds, she said, yes, sir. I punched the safety off and said, shoot. Whenever you're ready, I watched the deer, the end of the barrel settled into stillness. I leaned back and eased my fingers in my ears, and from the corner of my eye I saw her finger go inside the trigger guard. A moment later, bam! Dirt kicked up from beyond and beneath that deer who exited stage right at a rapid rate of speed. Did I get her?

No, you missed, Sissy, but you did so good. You were quiet. You took your time. And you didn't shoot until you were ready. Did it kick you? No, sir. Was it loud? No, sir. I'm sorry I missed Daddy. Don't be sorry. This is fun. There'll be another one along. Don't worry. I'm very, very proud of you. For 45 minutes, we went over everything that had happened that morning so far. She seemed to be more relaxed with each tick of the clock. We watched squirrels and we listen for deer and resumed the joking and a laugh and trying to be as quiet as we could. I didn't care if I ever saw another deer. We were sharing a moment that can happen a million times, but can only happen once the first time. Last spring, Clay Newcomb and I collaborated with Jason Phelps at Phelps game calls

in building each of our own favorite turkey diaphragms called prime cuts. Now, I'm going to tell you, I love mine because it's easy. to use. I'm not going to go, I'm not going to win a turkey calling contest. It's just not going to happen. But when I run this call, I get the sounds that gobblers are looking for. I have a great turkey hunting track record. If you go listen to real turkeys out in the woods, they're not going to win calling contests, right? That's who I listen to. I can make those sounds on my cut. I also hunt with Phelps's cut, and I hunt with Clay's cut because they're all three great cuts. Check out prime cuts at Phelps game calls.com. I think you'll be glad you did. And you'll find out that the Steve

Ronella cut is an easy-to-use cut for beginning callers who just want to start making good turkey noises and getting action. A carbon copy of that deer she missed stepped out into that little opening. I hadn't seen her approaching when I did. Kind of startled me. Sissy, there's another deer. Her demeanor immediately changed. She easily changed. She that rifle to her shoulder with a slow and steady movement and acquired her target like she'd done it a hundred times before rather than only once. You see her?

Yes, sir. She sounded more confident at that time, and I didn't notice it until replaying that scenario over again later on. I pushed the safety off. I said, shoot, whenever you're ready. I didn't get it out of my mouth, good, went, bam! She dropped that deer like a hot rock.

You got her. You got her. I am so proud of you. She was smiling and hugging me back, but she didn't say a whole lot. Just answering my questions of did it kick and did it hurt your ears? Did you feel comfortable?

As we unloaded the rifle, gathered our stuff, and climbed down the ladder. I could see she was very moved about what she'd just done, and I wasn't exactly sure which way the pendulum was going to swing on her experience. I wanted her to be a part of experience in our way of life and contributing as much or as little as she wanted on her own terms by choice for the enjoyment of participation and not by guilt for taking the life of an animal.

Closer we got to the deer, the more the realization of what she just did. done became evident. We knelt down beside that dough and the silence and stillness of that little oak flat and for a moment neither of us spoke. We just looked at her. I glanced at my daughter who had made the choice 12 hours ago to go hunting and two minutes ago to shoot a deer. Decisions that were made all on her own, one of which weighing a lot heavier than the other. Wow, look what God gave us, I said. And then we prayed and were thankful that we were granted the opportunity to take that deer's life to feed our family. And we talked about how God gave us these animals to take care of and that we should take that responsibility very seriously.

And if we took care of them, they take care of us. It's our belief. that's how he intended it to work. She'd been a hunter for less time than it took for me to tell that story, and in the shallow span of time she'd experienced every emotion a seasoned hunter goes through, all in one morning. The anticipation of the hunt, the beauty of the world as it awakens, the wonder of animals at play, the adrenaline of seeing what you're after,

the sadness of a missed opportunity. the redemption of another chance, and the realization of taking a lie. That's a lot to soak in for an adult, even more so for a 14-year-old girl who'd only done it once. After we prayed and talked about it, it seemed the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. Perspective can be a powerful thing, especially when viewed through the diameter of a scope. It's only when you back away that you truly see the totality of the situation and bear witness to the masterpiece you've been a part of creating. Now, in our case, woods were the canvas. The deer hunt was the paint, weave with the brushes, and God was the artist.

I think of that day during the most random times throughout the year and have since it happened. Sometimes I call or text to Amy about it, but 99 times out of 100, I just sit and relive it all over again. The thankfulness in her voice, the happiness in her eyes, the feel of her arms squeezing my neck, and finally the relief in knowing that what she'd done was good and pure. And whether she chose to do it again or let that be the last time, she had nothing to be ashamed of, and she could see it from both sides. now. We've shared a lot of first things in me and that girl. She was the first to call me daddy, and her daughter was the first to call me papal. Last weekend, my granddaughter Piper was hunting

with my son-in-law, Collin. Piper shot her first deer, and much like her mama 20 years before, once they'd headed home, the reality of what she'd done began to sink in. Amy contacted me this morning as she and Colin were together and said she'd been thinking about her first dear ever since Piper had gotten hers. She told Collin how she'd gotten upset and that after she and I'd prayed about it and I'd explained it to her our responsibilities and the choice we make to do these things, that it became an honor instead of a burden. Then, as if right on cue, Colin told her that he and Piper had had the very same discussion

with the very same results. These are the good times, the times that take seconds to happen and two lifetimes to relive. Hmm, that's good stuff. It's really, really good. There's a framed quote of unknown origin that hangs in the meat eater studio,

behind Steve's chair. I noticed it for the first time last month when I was there hosting radio live. I asked my friend Randall Williams about it, and he couldn't find the source but thought it was possibly a portion of a forward to a book. Regardless, I'm going to read it to you now as it had quite an effect on me. And here it is. In describing seeing his children newly born, he wrote, far from being young, as young as a human being can be, they seem immensely old. Their foreheads and features streamlined by time. As archaic and smooth as the heads of pharaohs in Egyptian sculpture,

as if they had traveled an immense distance to find their parents. Then, in a second, they became young. I'd like to thank all of you for listening to us here on the Bear Griggs channel. Clay Lake and I, we really, really appreciate it. Good luck to everyone out chasing dear, and if you're sitting in a tree, do yourself and your family and friends of favor who wear a safety harness, please. And there's a young and somewhere who would like to go to this ask.

Until next week, this is Brent Reed, signing off. Y'all be careful. On blood trails, the stories don't add. when the hunt is over. They just get darker. I've seen something in the road. I instantly thought it was a sleeping bed. And there was a full of blood.

Oh my God, he doesn't have a hit. Blood Trails is a true crime podcast born in the outdoors. Where the terrain is unforgiving, the evidence is scarce, and the truth gets buried under brush and silence. Indications were he should be right there, but he wasn't. This season, we're going deeper. from cold case files to whispered suspicions, from remote mountains to frozen backwards. Each story begins in the wilderness and ends in darkness.

Because out here, there are no witnesses, no cameras, just fragments and the people left behind trying to piece them back together. He's not an honest person. He's incapable of being honest. Somebody somewhere knows something. I'm Jordan Sillers. Season two of Blood Trails premieres April 16th. Follow now on Apple, Iheart, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.