Note: This was written way back in fresman year of high school, as you will be able to tell. I would just like to say that it got me an A-! Hey, gotta brag a little...
"Beep, beep, beep, bee..." That's how my morning started out one early November day. It was the day after Thanksgiving, a historic day for me. As I woke up, I felt a brisk chill to the cool Fall air. "What a perfect day for deer hunting." I said to myself.
As I got up, so did my dad, grandpa and our friend Matt. I felt so tired when I had awakened that I did not even feel hungry. So, after I skipped breakfast, I put on my hunting clothes and, after waiting on my guardians, off we went. As we headed towards public land in Lancaster County, South Carolina, my dad asked, "Are you finally gonna' kill one?" I replied with, "Yeah, and it's going to be a big buck!" "Well, I hope you sure do." said my grandpa. After our little conversation, we reached our destination and got our hunting gear together.
As we started down the long road bed towards the cut-off, we joined Matt, who had gotten there before us, and started talking. "Where are you going to hunt?" my dad asked Matt. "I think I'll hunt in that gully where I've seen deer before." replied Matt. "Where are you going to put Cory?" asked my grandpa. "I think I'll put him in a pine near the road, while I'll be on the other side of him down in the gully below there towards the thick pines." my dad said. As we kept on walking, Matt broke off and I asked my grandpa where he was going to hunt that morning. He said that he was going to hunt the creek bottom below me in the thick pines. When we had finally gotten to my tree, I was exhausted. After I climbed the tree and got everything situated, I settled in and started waiting.
At about 7:09 or 7:10 a.m., I got cold, so I put on my blaze orange toboggan. About two minutes after I put it on, I noticed a deer coming straight at me from the cut-off. I also noticed that it was a buck! When he was within 50 or 60 yards from me, I found a hole to shoot through. Kablaam! A shot rang out from my .243 over the morning silence. He ran about 20 more yards and a final shot put him down for good. There he lay beside my tree after a 10 or 20 yard run. Needless to say, I was shaking all over from the excitement!
As I looked down at him, I knew I had accomplished a great feat. After all the shaking, I said to myself, "Wow, what a deer!" Right after I said that, at 7:30, another deer came through. This deer was an even BIGGER buck, but somehow I managed to stay cool. When he cut down a different fork of the same trail the other deer had taken, Kablaam! I shot him. Kablaam! Another shot rang out! After that, I realized I was out of bullets. All while he was laying in the cut-off, a mere 50 yards from me, bleeding from his side and sucking air! As I tried to reload, he got to his feet and trotted off right as I was taking aim. To say I was mad is an understatement!
At 10:00 a.m., my dad came. "Did you get that big buck?" he asked excitedly. "I don't know. I shot him though." I replied. "Well, did you get anything else?" he yelled from below me. "Yeah, I think it's a three or five pointer." I said. "Well, where's he at?" I pointed right beside him. To me, it seemed like my dad was the happiest out of the two of us.
While he gutted the deer, Matt and I looked for the other deer. To make a long story short, the bigger buck was never found after hours of searching. Even though I was upset that we weren't able to find the other deer, I still was glad to have gotten my five pointer. Yet it makes me sad to think that many anti-hunting activists would like to take this joy away from me and others.
-C.B.
"Beep, beep, beep, bee..." That's how my morning started out one early November day. It was the day after Thanksgiving, a historic day for me. As I woke up, I felt a brisk chill to the cool Fall air. "What a perfect day for deer hunting." I said to myself.
As I got up, so did my dad, grandpa and our friend Matt. I felt so tired when I had awakened that I did not even feel hungry. So, after I skipped breakfast, I put on my hunting clothes and, after waiting on my guardians, off we went. As we headed towards public land in Lancaster County, South Carolina, my dad asked, "Are you finally gonna' kill one?" I replied with, "Yeah, and it's going to be a big buck!" "Well, I hope you sure do." said my grandpa. After our little conversation, we reached our destination and got our hunting gear together.
As we started down the long road bed towards the cut-off, we joined Matt, who had gotten there before us, and started talking. "Where are you going to hunt?" my dad asked Matt. "I think I'll hunt in that gully where I've seen deer before." replied Matt. "Where are you going to put Cory?" asked my grandpa. "I think I'll put him in a pine near the road, while I'll be on the other side of him down in the gully below there towards the thick pines." my dad said. As we kept on walking, Matt broke off and I asked my grandpa where he was going to hunt that morning. He said that he was going to hunt the creek bottom below me in the thick pines. When we had finally gotten to my tree, I was exhausted. After I climbed the tree and got everything situated, I settled in and started waiting.
At about 7:09 or 7:10 a.m., I got cold, so I put on my blaze orange toboggan. About two minutes after I put it on, I noticed a deer coming straight at me from the cut-off. I also noticed that it was a buck! When he was within 50 or 60 yards from me, I found a hole to shoot through. Kablaam! A shot rang out from my .243 over the morning silence. He ran about 20 more yards and a final shot put him down for good. There he lay beside my tree after a 10 or 20 yard run. Needless to say, I was shaking all over from the excitement!
As I looked down at him, I knew I had accomplished a great feat. After all the shaking, I said to myself, "Wow, what a deer!" Right after I said that, at 7:30, another deer came through. This deer was an even BIGGER buck, but somehow I managed to stay cool. When he cut down a different fork of the same trail the other deer had taken, Kablaam! I shot him. Kablaam! Another shot rang out! After that, I realized I was out of bullets. All while he was laying in the cut-off, a mere 50 yards from me, bleeding from his side and sucking air! As I tried to reload, he got to his feet and trotted off right as I was taking aim. To say I was mad is an understatement!
At 10:00 a.m., my dad came. "Did you get that big buck?" he asked excitedly. "I don't know. I shot him though." I replied. "Well, did you get anything else?" he yelled from below me. "Yeah, I think it's a three or five pointer." I said. "Well, where's he at?" I pointed right beside him. To me, it seemed like my dad was the happiest out of the two of us.
While he gutted the deer, Matt and I looked for the other deer. To make a long story short, the bigger buck was never found after hours of searching. Even though I was upset that we weren't able to find the other deer, I still was glad to have gotten my five pointer. Yet it makes me sad to think that many anti-hunting activists would like to take this joy away from me and others.
-C.B.
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