Personal Narrative: A Personal Experience Of Hunting

My face was frozen and bundled up, as I glanced into the bright green field I would be hunting in that afternoon. The smell of the great outdoors was surrounding me and made me feel exceptionally welcomed. Making my way to the shooting house, I could see my dad ahead wearing his old orange hat and the same ole camo. I had no idea that I would be sitting in the same confined space for many hours to come. Birds twiddling and squirrels chipping, I turned my attention to where the buck was located in the field. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to take the long shot that was ahead of me. I confidently knew that I would be able to make the shot for a great kill. Dad pulled out the exact beautiful shiny bullet I needed for the kill. He then said
to me, “ You have made this shot many of times, you can do this!” I placed my hand on the black, glossy, and dazzling gun. Pulling it towards me I had a tight firm grip so the backfire would not knock me out of my ragged seat. I put the tiny red cross arrow right behind my dream bucks shoulder, slowly pulling the trigger. The moment the bullet left the barrel, I knew I had killed the buck, and I was prepared to go load him up in the truck.
Seeing a cloud of dust near the ground, the deer slowly ran into the wooded area at the end of the field. The tears began to flow and it was at this time that I had realized that I did in fact miss the buck. Dad was telling me to stop crying and to suck it; however, he suddenly gasped seeing something rumbling in the bushes. A deer then reappeared into our field; however, his horns were very small. In fact the deer was just a little spike. I had waited for the day to kill a huge buck but the I actually realized I just wanted to kill my first deer. Dad handed me another gleaming golden shell to load into the rifle. He then said, “ I have faith in you, take your time.” I slowly raised the gun up again for the second time pulling it tightly to my right shoulder. I was focused and ready to get a kill; however, I was too nervous to shoot. I backed away from the gun, clicking the safety back on to take a second of reassurance. Remembering what my dad had told me I took a deep breath and finally took the second shot. The bullet exited the gun perfectly and the boom of the gun was very loud resulting in a heart shot. Seeing the little ole spike hitting the ground like a ton of bricks, I knew he was not going to make his “Great
Escape.”