Personal Narrative: Deer Hunting

It was a sunny afternoon we are at the farm in Hillman. I was waiting to go whitetail deer hunting. My dad was talking to his friend Buzz for a very long. Finally my dad was done talking and we started walking out to the edge of a barley field. I was using my dad 's 270.

Since the day I turned six years old I have been in love with the sport of hunting. My love for hunting started when my dad took me with him for the first time when I was five. As we sat in the cold, dark forest, my young mind could not be any more excited as I took in the sights, smells and sounds the forest offered to me. That particular hunt we did not get lucky enough to harvest a deer, probably due to the fact that I could not keep still, but I did not care I loved the placidity the forest provided to a hunter. Hunting had become a major part of my life and I did not even have my license yet.

It all started November 1. I was about 10 years old at that time. There were about 2 weeks before deer opener and I was getting more excited every day. We started by putting up deer stands and deciding who’s going to sit where. The whole time we were doing that there was only one thing on my mind, was I going to get a deer or not.

Hunting to me is something special. Not only are you putting food on the table but you are making some very good memories. One of the best memories I have is my very first hunt, it was my dad and I we were in the blind for maybe thirty mintues and a little six point buck walks and looks around then goes back into the tall grass then my dad rattles the antlers and he comes out and boom that was the end of it. It was an amazing expericence and every since then I have never stopped hunting.

It noon now. My dad sent into the forest while he cleaned the cabin. He only sent me with a hatchet, some bungie rope, some bait and fishing pole with a small tackle box, and a twenty two with two clips full of ammo in case I see anything that could be food since we didn 't pack any food because we wanted to get away from the city. Guess what I killed, a small buck big enough for me and dad. I made small slay and headed back with some lumber and the deer.

Then I yelled “Let’s just go up to where we started out at.” Will screamed “Let’s go up to the bridge and see what it’s like.” So I went back up to camp where we started out at and Will went to check out the bridge to see what it was like. He would be back in an hour so I went and fished for an hour. Since it was raining I caught a couple of big fish in the river.

There is one thing in the woods that is really exciting and that is turkey hunting. Turkeys will get your heart racing and you blood rushing and have you shaking in just five seconds. When he comes up there strutting,spitting,and drumming, that’s when it gets real. When you hit that “yawt yawt” and he cuts you off gobbling that is when you know that he is just as good as dead. I am gonna tell plenty of turkey hunting experiences that i have had so i do not have to have a works cited page or nothing.

We stopped because I had to go to the bathroom. I got my helmet back on, and asked Dad how many more minutes because I was hungry. He said “About 20 more minutes.” Next he started to leave so I started up my four wheeler and followed him. Then we got to a trail where it was only about two minutes till the snowmobile trail.

The Hunt It was a gloomy September day and the bear hunting season was about to begin. The old farm truck was loaded full with barrels of cooking grease, assorted candy, birdseed and tubes of sticky frosting. We were to hunt four hours north in a little town called Orr, Minnesota. My family had an 80 acre lot that we used strictly for hunting. My mom volunteered to sit in the stand with me and videotape the hunt.

He passed away two years ago due to skin cancer. Duck hunting has helped me with my father’s passing because it lets me take my mind off things and I am able to lose all track of time, just sitting and listening to the many stories. I keep my Dad in my thoughts while ducking hunting and always look up thank him when I have a good shoot. When things began going downhill with my father, my uncle became a source of strength. I knew I could lean on him and that he would always have my back.

When I started coon hunting I was the age of 14 the person that got me in to coon hunting was my dad. The reason why I stared going is because I see him going a lot by himself and I felt that must be pretty alone out there in the dark by yourself. After a year under my belt of just plenty hunting and getting know my dog voice and learning the rules of competition coon hunting My dad ask me if I would like to get in competition coon hunting the first thing that came to mind was heck yes! The next day we was packing are bags and was heading to Kentucky for competition coon hunt it was a 3 hour drive there and when we got there was all sorts of people there just for a coon hunt. I didn’t know that many people did this and I was excited for tonight

One of the best days of my life was when we went deer hunting in South Dakota with my dad, brother, uncle and two cousins, but before I tell you about my trip let me tell you how it started. We left early in the morning to head to South Dakota where my cousin Jacob, who had just got a job as Game warden in Custer State Park, was taking us deer hunting. We got as far as Fargo, North Dakota when my cousin Keith asked my dad where our license were. Then to our surprise we forgot them back at home. We were lucky enough to have my two aunts and mom bring us the license because they were going to Fargo that day anyways for a girls shopping day. They just had to leave a little earlier. So we just waited in a parking lot until they

My dad and I went on a muzzleloader antelope hunting trip, in Central Oregon. Four days into our trip, on September 1st, we started our morning off like the past three days, very tired. We stumbled out of our beds and, drowsily, we geared up and left for another unknowing day of hunting. Once we arrived at some alfalfa fields, my dad let me drive the dirt roads.

The preparation starts to pay off as the season approaches; the preparation, the anxiety, and the chills of knowing what is coming starts to get to me. As the night of September 30th rolls around, my heart races as if the next day is Christmas. The next day is October 1st, which means bow hunting season is starting. I go to my special place where I sit 18 feet up in a tree and wait for the sun to rise. All the offseason work and determination is about to prove as if it worked or not.

As he goes down this road we are bumping up and down constantly, especially when he hits a small ditch. That road ends right at our favorite fishing spot. It is called “The Backwaters of Crooked Creek” or at least that is all I know it as. When we get off that road my dad parks his car next to the woods and we both get out. I walked to our trunk, open it up, and release that we didn’t buy any chicken liver.