A Bear Hunt

There is a light breeze in the air. I make my way up the cool metal ladder and place my 7mm MAG Ruger against the metal seat, with the crummy foam cushion. I pull the cold metal gun rail over my head and get situated for the long sit. It is the second day of bear hunting season.
I sat for five hours. In that time, I saw six squirrels, three birds, and the trees swaying back and forth as the wind blew.

But then, I saw a vast black blob crossing through the thick brush. “Finally!” I say to myself.
The day continued to pass and so did bears, coming in to eat from the bait pile thirty yards from my tree stand.
I never took a single shot. They didn’t seem worthy enough. The days following were also unsuccessful. Even though I did not succeed in bear hunting, I didn’t give up.
Bear hunting has taught me to be patient and to push through any obstacle that dares to hold me back. Every weekend—this September—I drove five hours to Florence, Wisconsin, with an open mind and overwhelming excitement.
I want to major in Funeral Service. I want become a licensed Funeral Director in the state of Wisconsin. I have never been more motivated or passionate about choosing a career. There is something about the human body that fascinates me. I can’t explain my exact reasoning behind my career choice, but I know I enjoy serving and helping others.
In funeral directing, as in hunting, patience, work ethic, and compassion are necessary to success. And I will not quit on hunting—or my career goals—because of a few terrible days of sitting in silent, cold woods.





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