The First Hunt Imagine having the feeling of complete serenity as you lay still waiting; listening to every broken stick, crushed leaf, and bird chirp. Waiting for the footsteps of a deer or the image of one in the distance to fill your veins with adrenaline which gives you that feeling you dream about. All this leading up to one pull of a trigger, sending a message to your brain that tells you you’ll be a hunter for the rest of your life. This image was a very important part of my life. My brother started hunting when he was around 12 or 13 years old with my dad and I was too young to hunt. It all started with only being able to go out with them and watch them shoot deer, rabbits, turkey, and birds. I was always anxious to be able to do it myself because I thought I would be good at it and enjoy it. All I had was a pellet gun, and I was limited to showing my skills shooting by shooting bottle caps from a distance. I loved impressing my dad with my shots and looked forward to showing him how I could hunt when I was of age. Eventually I was 12 years old , got my hunting license, and a permit and that November I was ready for my first hunt. That weekend I went down to my dad’s it was all preparation. We had a checklist to make sure the night before we had everything laid out for us in the morning. We needed gloves, pants, shirts, coats, ammo, flashlight, seats, and of course the rifle. We couldn’t afford to forget anything in the morning because there was no turning back for once we got started. I could hardly sleep that night because I was so excited. My dad woke me up at 4:30 a.m. to get ready and so it began. We got dressed and gathered all the essentials to go hunting.
My father and I hopped into his little blue truck which was no stranger to a tornado. It was beat up, dented, scratched, but it ran like a champ. We drove to a friend of my dad’s property