Third Time's a Charm

I debated as to whether or not to go to my parent’s house for another weekend of hunting (my competitive nature was getting the better of me—I just had to shoot a buck), but in the end, I just could not pass up the chance. So I went to my parent’s house for one last day of hunting.

We started the day at the usual hour of 4 AM, which is just not an hour that I think anyone ever gets used to. But used to it or not, we loaded the horses and drove to our usual hunting spot. We then unloaded the horses and rode the steep, skinny trial in the dark. I cannot stand riding the trail in the dark. I can’t see where the horse is going at all, and I just have to trust that it will not slip or trip and make us fall down the side of the mountain. My dad always assures me that we are fine, but I am still terrified in the dark. It was also the coldest day that we have been on the mountain in , and I was completely frozen. I couldn’t even feel my feet. But eventually the sun came up and I could finally see the trail, and my feet at long last thawed.

We hadn’t been riding on the trail too long, when we saw a small buck up the trail. It was, of course, too far away, but he didn’t seem too scared of us, so we decided to keep riding up towards him. As we were heading up the trail, my dad spotted a larger buck, and decided it was big enough for him to shoot at. So he gave me a gun and sent me up the trail after the little buck—alone—while he went over another ridge to shoot at the large one. So, I dutifully did what I was told, and waited to hear the shot from my dad, while I still looked for the little buck, which was of course no anywhere in sight. But I kept hiking, and soon I heard my dad shoot his gun. I quickly looked over the edge of the mountain, and I saw him running—yes, my sick dad ran—down the hill and over the next ridge. My dad’s friend, Chester, then came and got me with the horses, and we headed our way to pick up my dad.

But unfortunately, my dad did not get the really large buck that he wanted. But, as he went over the next ridge, he happened to see another buck and decided to get that one instead. And by the time we arrived, my dad had gutted it, and was in the process of preparing it to put in the saddle bags and onto the packhorse.

I was excited that my dad had shot a buck, but I was a little disappointed that I had not gotten my own (again the competitive nature). But since it was still early—before lunch—my dad said we were still going to hunt. He was more optimistic than me.

So, Chester took my dad’s buck back to the truck, and my dad and I continued on our trek. I have to admit that I did not think I was going to have the chance to get anything at this point, but thankfully, I was wrong. For not twenty minutes later, my dad told me to get off my horse and get ready to shoot. I eagerly did so, and took his gun. I then found the deer in the scope, took aim—a little hard since the gun is heavy (I’m a little wobbly)—and pulled the trigger. The next thing I knew, my dad was telling me that I got him. And sure enough, he was down. I shot him in the neck and that was that.

I was so happy. Not only did I get the buck I wanted, but I also got him in one shot. My dad was very impressed (I like to impress my dad), and I was so pleased to finally have that buck.



It really was a great day, and I am so glad I decided to go hunting one last time. I guess third time really is a charm.