The day I got my first deer is one to remember.

When I was in fourth grade I tried archery hunting early in the fall and I just kind of got bored and I wouldn’t stop moving around in the stand. A few months went by and my family wanted me to try a rifle hunt to see if I liked it because deer are moving differently that day and more often.  I accepted the chance to go hunting, and I’m so glad I did. I was determined to stay out there until dark or until I got something.

The morning started out pretty rough– I started to get frozen an hour in, so I started moving around more than I should. My dad offered to go in the house and warm up, but I refused. Not even 30 minutes later, a herd of deer bolted by our stand and there was one straggler. I aimed at the deer and as it stopped I slowly squeezed the trigger and all I heard was a little click. The deer ran off, and I was just shocked at what happened. I had the magazine in the gun but no bullet in the chamber. I felt pretty low at that point and was wanting to go inside, but my dad urged me to stay out. So I stayed out, but I did end up putting a bullet in the chamber this time.

Noon hit and I was ready for lunch, but my dad had a feeling there’d be deer moving here any moment. So we waited another 15 minutes and to my surprise, one lone spike is walking right through my shooting lane. I took aim once again and squeezed slowly, and there the bullet went. The dust cleared and there was the deer laying peacefully. My dad gave me the typical father-to-son first bump and I felt on top of the world.