Like father, like son.

Heath Hensgens of Bentley was the recipient of a “gotcha moment” from his dad, New Iberia outdoorsman Donnie Hensgens, the second weekend of October while deer hunting on private land near Kisatchie National Forest.

Heath thoroughly enjoyed repeating a similar version of the “gotcha moment” at the expense of his younger brother, Hans Hensgens of Lafayette, on a deer hunt in the same area in the same deer stand Nov. 25. Both brothers, passionate outdoorsmen like their father, were born and raised in New Iberia.

Rewind, if you will, to Oct. 12, when Heath shot a buck with his crossbow late that evening, just before legal shooting hours ended, then tracked it two hours with the help of a friend to no avail. Frustrated and sick about the possibility of a wounded deer not being recovered, he called his dad, who said he’d drive up there and start the search at daylight the next day.

The elder Hensgens did just that, then joined a search party that followed a scant blood trail until it vanished, like the deer. Heath continued circling the area while his dad played a hunch, believing the deer might try to quench its thirst, and looked around a nearby pond.

A few minutes later his father shouted, “I think I found something!”

His 33-year-old son rushed to the spot. His dad pointed at a stick and said there blood was showing. Heath saw no blood.

“I said, ‘What?’ He said, ‘What do you think about that deer over there?’ He got me good. It had laid up not too far away,” Heath said in a story Nov.14 in The Daily Iberian.

Fast forward to late November. Hans Hensgens, known more as a successful duck hunter but with only a handful of deer – one buck – to his credit, decided to go deer hunting.

Hans, 25, a control panel technician for API, already was kicking himself for deciding against going up Thanksgiving night so he could hunt early Friday. In all likelihood he missed a shot at his second buck ever.

“I was debating going Thanksgiving night so I could hunt Friday morning,” he said.

Instead, Hensgens left Lafayette the morning after Thanksgiving. He did a doubletake later that morning when he looked at a trail cam.

“I saw a big 8-point on camera about 7 o’clock in the morning where I should have been. I haven’t shot a buck in many years, probably 10 years,” he said, ruefully.

The Friday afternoon trip he took was nothing to write home about. He went back out early Saturday.

”I got in the stand at 5:45. I made sure I got in the stand early. I moved around stand to stand till 1 o’clock,” he said.

“Since I didn’t see any bucks, I told my brother I’d shoot a doe if one passes me,” he said.

He had seen plenty of does … until late in the day.

“I’m thinking to myself, ‘I want to shoot a doe, now I’m not seeing any.’ Right when I was about to give up, lose hope, lo and behold a big ol’ doe walked out. She’s in the open. I shouldered my rifle (Ruger 7MM Mag), then heard rustling behind me,” he said.

He turned around to look but saw nothing. Then swiveled back to focus on the doe.

“She had walked behind some brush. While I was looking down the ’scope, she moved just enough where there was an opening in the brush,” he said, noting he had a clear view of a shoulder. “I inhaled and exhaled, squeezed the trigger, the gun kicked off in the air. I didn’t see her after that. I texted my brother and waited for him to get out of the stand.”

Heath Hensgens was hunting with his sons, Eli, 8, and Hadeon, 5.

“We were sitting in the stand not far from where Hans was. We heard the shot. I said, ‘That’s probably Uncle Hans.’ They were so excited. They were ready to go find it,” Heath said.

They met where the deer should have been. There was no blood at all.

“Weird thing is he made a decent shot on her but no blood,” his brother said. “He was pretty down. We were thinking it got away, that we lost her.”

“We had kids looking around. At this point, I was getting pretty mad. We ended up finding hair and chunks of meat. I was thinking I didn’t hit a vital spot. My dad had come over to help us look,” Hans said.

Then Heath called him over to a thicket and said, “Man, I think I found something. Look right here. Look down here. He said, ‘It looks like deer crap. What’s that mean?’ ”

“He was looking at a pile of crap,” Hans said. “Then I figured out he was messing with me. He said, ‘How about over there? That’s a big doe.’ ”

And there it was, a few hours after being shot in the shoulder.

“How many times can you play a joke out? My dad thought it was pretty funny. It worked a second time. I’m glad we found her,” Heath said.

Their father said, “It was priceless again, brother!”

“We celebrated after that. Oh, I was very happy. We got a lot of meat off that,” Hans said about the doe with an estimated weight of more than 100 pounds. “The last time I killed a deer was when me, Heath and my dad were together. I’m just glad my dad and my brother were there.”

The Hensgens patriarch agreed and said, “It is a blessing to spend that time with my sons and grandsons.”

DON SHOOPMAN is outdoors editor of The Daily Iberian.