With the snug warmth of fall coming to a close hunters scramble to jump into the wilderness to find the trophy animal of a life time. Hunting is a tradition, a hobby, and a way of life for copious amount of people. When I was only nine years only my father decided it was time to pass the tradition on to me by purchasing me my first gun. Through many long years of dad teaching me the ways, I learned how to respect animals, the ways of hunting, and how to operate a weapon safely.

The year I turned thirteen, I was finally old enough for the old man to take me out for a hunt. While summer was in dead swing we took all our stands, feeders, and cameras down to the property in Locust Grove, Georgia we spent the day cutting down trees for shooting lanes, setting up feeders to bring the deer onto the property, and placing cameras on trees so we could observe where the massive bucks stayed. Bucks are a male deer that have antlers that most hunters mount for pride. Many different people hunt for different reasons; we, however, hunt for meat and mammoth trophy deer. One rule my dad pounded into my brain was “you should never kill an animal unless you are going to consume it or have it stuffed.” With my patience wearing off, he kept telling me that all my strenuous work will pay off.

It was the morning of opening day and I was so excited I didn’t even go to bed the night before. I can remember the morning like it was yesterday. Five in the morning dad came into my bedroom dressed in camouflage and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. I jumped out of bed and proceeded to the door where I was met with a coat, rifle, and a cereal bar. We were off in no time heading down the express way just watching how deserted everything was. When we arrived my stomach was overwhelmed with colorful butterflies. I stepped out into the cold morning with only two things on my mind. One, it was pitch black and we were going to be walking in the middle of nowhere by ourselves, and how are we going to find our stands. Well my dad of course saves the day when he comforts me with large flashlights and reminds me animals are way more scared of us then we are scared of them. In no time we reach our stand and climb up into the tall sturdy pine. After an hour it finally becomes light enough for us to see the large fields in front. With everything dad told me running rapidly through my head finally we see our first deer. Standing tall 200 yards away is a huge doe. Dad nudges me and whispers that the deer is to small and the shot is to far. While watching the deer walk away all my hopes of taking one this morning flushed down the drain. Sadly I fell asleep, only to be woken up to a large nudge in the stomach. I almost jumped out of the stand but when I opened my eyes a large ten pointer stood 100 yards away looking straight at us. With everything my father told me running through my head I used my training to successfully pull the trigger and to drop the deer right where it was standing. Dad had a smile on his face that went from ear to ear.

This entire experience changed dads and my life. Hunting is something that I will always treasure just because my dad loved it, and he taught me everything I now know. Thanks to my father, hunting brought us closer and we had grand experiences together. After spending hours a day in the woods, not budging an inch, dressed head to toe in leaves and tree bark, once the big shot was made all effort paid off.