First Youth Hunt Narrative

I was as squished as a sardine in the tree stand with my dad. It was about 5:00 P.M. on the last day of my first youth hunt. It was a fairly cold evening, and I was starting to lose hope.

Right as my eyes started to close for a little nap, my dad bumped me. It was a soft little touch, a take-a-look-around touch. I looked down, and there she was-the huge doe that I was waiting for. I picked up my gun as slow as a turtle and tried to find the area of the lungs through my scope. I couldn’t even get her in my scope because she was so close. My dad very quietly whispered to me, “Sit on my cushion.” it still wasn't enough, “Sit on my hands, and hopefully it will be enough!” I finally could see her through my scope. The whole world around me just stopped as I aimed for her lungs.

BANG! As soon as I pulled that trigger, she darted away as fast as a cheetah. I saw the bright, red blood scattered along the tree; it looked like a murder scene you see on television. I was so happy to go find her. After 7 extremely long minutes, we started climbing out of the stand slowly and smiley.

I spotted the start of the bloody trail and started heading that way with caution at a fast walk pace. I followed the trail about 35 steps, every step my smile got larger and larger.
As we dragged her out, heard the splooshing and sploshing of the water in her body. My dad carefully cut her open. I could hear the ripping skin. Then he “accidentally” cut the stomach open, and the stench rolled out like a huge cloud of smoke coming out of a scorching-hot, fire pit. He cut the bloody heart out and told me, “Take a bite, it’s a family tradition. Your first deer you take a bite of the heart.” “NO,” I said with disgust! We tossed her in the back of the truck, and my dad and I drove away with smiles from ear to ear, and success in our minds. At that point I asked myself, “Why did doubt fill my mind in the first