That time of the year, fall.

The crisp, cool, bitter, fall air hits you in the face as you walk outside. It’s the most beautiful time of the year. The leaves are changing all around you and the cool air nips at your nose. But best of all, its hunting season. The only time of the year when everyone sits out and really enjoys the sounds of nature. Everyone gets together with family and friends and camp together waiting for the illusive monster buck that may or may not exist.
I wake up early in the morning and roll out of my bunk. The wooden floor is cold to touch. Grandpa and daddy are already awake. Uncle is soon to wake. Everyone makes coffee and hot chocolate for the kiddos. I grab my orange gear and throw it on. After everyone gets ready and grabs the guns which are not loaded yet because that’s unsafe, we stuff our pockets with candy and head out the door. We walk and one by one drop everyone off at the right stations. My uncle goes to the back beach, my granddad goes to graveyard point, and my father and I keep walking. We walk to his secret blind. Everyone knows not to cross the paths of the other hunters for fear of driving off the mighty buck that may be there.

As I sit in my father’s blind on that old garbage bag and pick at little leaves and stems that have fallen off over the year, I think about how truly great fall is. You can hear the squirrels chattering away in the trees warning others that we are here. You can hear the crows calling out letting other birds no to stay clear. And the best part of all is the air whistling through the leaves. It’s the best sound. It sounds truly magical. It’s comforting to listen to the wind whip through the leaves and hear nobody around you. You don’t hear sirens and car horns, no big trucks or squealing tires, just peace. Everything for that little time you sit in the woods is peaceful.
After 3 hours, my hands start freezing and going numb. My father agrees and we get up and leave the stand. As we make our way back through the woods, we make that special call through the trees to let everyone know that we are coming through. Everyone else having no luck will call back and poke out through the bushes and branches and join our march back to the warm camp. My granddad starts breakfast then, so we can have a nice hot meal after being out all morning. We will be ready to do it all again in a few hours.

We wait and around lunch time we are again ready to go and get ‘em! One by one here we go marching like the ants. Dropping people off at every stop and then returning to the stand. We sit and wait. I get in trouble for making too much noise with the candy wrappers or for moving around too much on the garbage bag. Then like a clap of thunder out of know where, almost giving you a heart attack you hear a snort and loud grunting. You know they are close but how close? We wait and finally the deer steps into the light on top of the hill. Its coat gleaming in the sunshine, lit up like a light bulb and shining like a diamond. But sadly it’s only a doe and cannot be shot.

We watch the deer as she feeds along the grassy knoll and then with a bound and a leap she disappears over the fallen log and vanishes into the thickets. Not even 20 minutes later we hear a gun shot. We think for a minute that maybe it’s someone on our side of the island having some good luck. But then we hear another shot and see its coming from the other side. At least they are having some good luck today. As the hours pass by we return back to camp for our supper and call it a night. Tomorrow is Sunday and we will return home without our buck. Maybe just maybe next week we can tag out. And guess what the next week my wonderful uncle does indeed tag out with his buck.

So as I conclude my story about a wonderful memory I have from fall I hope that you enjoyed reading my essay. I loved remembering and thinking back to the days when I was only in middle school and when I went hunting with my father. Those were some of the best days of my life and some of the best memories were made in fall and on head harbor. The part I cherish most about the fall is all the memories we make at camp. We tell stories and play games. We look for deer even though we have hardly any luck. And we just enjoy time together as a family.