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Jada’s Day
Fourth generation hunter takes deer with World War II era rifle.
Brad Gill | December 4, 2024
It was opening-day afternoon of blackpowder, and I was in venison collection mode. I had four packs of frozen ground left, and it was time to replenish the Gill home.
About 45 minutes before dark, a doe high-stepped out of some pines and into a strip of natural grass and broomsedge. At first appearing, she was a little far for my smokepole comfort.
Maybe she’ll come closer, I thought.
Oh she did. She marched right at me, nose in the air, checking things along the way. She was large and sharp, a trophy of the antlerless variety. She got to 50 yards and turned broadside.
Chip shot…
That old nanny stood like a stone statue for every bit of five minutes. How do I know that?
As I was eyeing the crease in her shoulder through my scope, there was that little voice in my head… Not until Jada shoots… this is Jada’s day.
I’m like, “Have you seen my freezer?” Of course you have…
I clicked the safety on and eased back to an upright position and watched, while listening for a centerfire rifle to crack several hundred yards below me.
Her name is Jada Harper. The then-13-year-old from Covington was in a Putnam County ground blind referred to as the “Front Pasture.” She was sitting in the shadow of her daddy, T.J. Harper.
During primitive-weapons week, youth 15 and younger are allowed to hunt with centerfire rifles. It was the rifle in her hands that’s the centerpiece for this story.
The No. 4 Lee-Enfield 303 rifle is from the World War II era, and Jada’s dad, granddad and great granddad have all killed deer with it. So, a deer on the tailgate for the 2024 youth opener would mean she’d be the fourth generation to score backstraps. So, it was a special evening, one I was excited to be listening to from a distance. If she would just shoot, maybe we could double…
The gun belonged to T.J.’s grandfather, Daniel D. McGee, who lived in north Newton County off Hightower Trail. As a boy, it’s a mystery if Daniel did any hunting, and on June 25, 1942—at the age of 22—he was sent off to begin training before being sent to Europe to fight in World War II.
Daniel received a Purple Heart after being injured in the war and returned home on March 26, 1945. Before being sent back to Georgia, Daniel gathered his belongings, which included three rifles, and he sent everything back to Newton County.
T.J. received two of the three rifles—one of which was now in Jada’s hands looking for a whitetail—when he was 11 years old. The second rifle is still in T.J.’s possession but has never been hunted with, while the location of that third rifle is unknown.
“My two rifles stayed in mom’s closet until I was 13, then my room. They’ve been in my possession for 33 years now,” said T.J. “I love everything about those old rifles. For him to have brought them back, I’d have to assume they were in action. I have his discharge papers and his Purple Heart from being wounded.”
When Daniel returned from the war, he spent some time deer hunting across from his home on Hightower Trail in Newton County.
“Granddaddy told me when he gave the rifles to me that he used to cross the road and kill deer with it,” said T.J. “There was farm land directly across the road from his house. There were several folks who farmed that same land—kind of like share cropping.”
Any deer that Daniel killed across from his home went to good use.
“There were a lot of game dinners and fish fries at his house in those days,” said T.J. “Extended family would show up regularly for get-togethers, everyone always bringing food to add to the feast. Sadly, the majority of those events stopped by the time I came to be.”
When T.J. was a toddler, his dad left. However, right before Jada was born, his dad came back into his life.
“He stayed with us two weeks before she was born and two weeks after she got here, and I had talked to him about my gun collection I was rebuilding,” said T.J. “He asked about the 303 I had gotten from granddaddy. At that point, it was ugly and rusty but complete. It was then when I learned that my dad had shot a couple of deer with the 303 on granddaddy’s property—the same property where granddaddy shot his deer—right after my sister was born. My sister and I are just 11 months apart, so I would have been a baby and never known about him shooting a deer with it while I was growing up.”
Learning that his dad had shot a few deer with the 303 created a spark in T.J.’s mind about becoming a third-generation to shoot a deer with the World War II rifle.
“At some point prior to me getting the gun when I was 11 years old, it was sporterized. Either my granddad or his brother, my uncle, cut the front stock down. When I decided to be the third generation to shoot something with it, I stripped it all down, refinished it, polished the bolt, ordered a stock and put it all together. I got the best mounts offered at the time and dedicated a Nikon Prostaff to be on this rifle from here on out.”
T.J. was hunting on his father-in-law’s lease in Taylor County in the 2014 when he shot a doe with the gun.
“That made me the third generation to shoot a deer, so after that day, it got put in the safe waiting for Jada,” said T.J.
“She shot a .308 last year and killed three deer in Worth County, so I knew she was physically ready. The gun is something she will inherit and keep the tradition going for our family.”
So the doe that had stood statue still for five minutes finally decided to stretch its legs—right toward my ladder stand. Before I knew it, she was within bow shot and still coming. With a dozen more steps, she was in spitting distance. And that’s when it happened.
Ka-pow!!
I’d learn a minute later at 7:24 p.m. through text message that, “4th generation is a thing, bro. It dropped where it was.”
With the gun shot still echoing off the trees, my brain snapped to my selfish ways and that empty freezer. I gripped my muzzleloader, turned in my stand and saw the back half of the doe disappear behind the tree I was sitting in. It was the last I’d see of that old girl. I have no idea what happened to her after that. No freezer filling for me that day. That’s alright, though. It was Jada’s day.
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