Why I Hunt Narrative

As I sit in the duck blind early in the morning watching the fog lift off the clear water or in the deer stand through the brisk, harsh coldness of the winters Wisconsin has to offer many ask me why I hunt. To me hunting is a way of life, I was raised up on it ever since I was able to walk I was sitting next to my grandpa or dad observing every single move they would make hoping one day I will be able to be just like them and become an avid sportsman. As I grew up spending more and more time in the woods with them I was finally ready to break off and go on my first hunt alone at the age of twelve years old. This has been a dream of mine to be able to hunt alone so after I had earned my hunter safety license and had proved to my dad I was able …show more content…
On that cold frigid morning in November of 2003, the first day of opening deer season my alarm went off at 4:30 am. I sprung up like a kid running to see their presents on Christmas morning. With my eyes still adjusting to the light I threw on my blaze orange snow suit and tied my winter boots on. I ran as fast as I could downstairs to meet my dad at the gun safe and grabbed my brand new .243 rifle that I got as a birthday present from my parents. As my dad handed me my gun it had hit me, I was on my own and this time no one was there to help …show more content…
When I heard that I knew it was go time I sat back and sat as still as possible waiting for this creature to appear. A few minutes had passed and out of the corner of my eye there it was, what I have been waiting for since I was able to walk sitting next to my grandpa and dad. As this tall mature four year old eight point buck came walking through my line of fire my adrenaline was sky high all of a sudden I got a warm feeling inside me. The only thing on my mind was I need to get my gun on him and make the shot count to make sure he doesn’t get away and dies the fastest way possible to ensure he doesn’t suffer. As the buck put his head down I pulled my gun up and got him in the cross hairs, barely even being able to hold still. With every second holding the gun up I could feel my heart race faster and faster trying to slow my breathing down and get it under control. As the buck lifted his head I knew it was time to pull the trigger. As I pulled the trigger the guns tremendous recoil had knocked me back into the tree. My shot had struck the buck right behind the shoulder blade and had hit the heart and its lungs. Blood pouring out onto the leave covered ground I knew he was as good as dead. The buck ran off for only a couple yards and lied down. Right then and there it had hit me like a freight train coming full bore that I got myself a buck. My body was