A Personal Narrative : Hunting As A Personal Experience

Hunting is very valuable to me, but the value is deeper than just hunting. There are so many aspects of hunting that I love. But I cherish my bow above all of them. Having my bow with me when I’m in the stand or when I’m at my neighbor’s house practicing, gives me a since of dominance. Also brings me pride knowing I’ve worked hard and stayed committed to something I truly love. There are all kinds of animals to hunt and different ways to hunt them. My favorite type of animal to hunt, is the white tail deer. While hunting the allusive deer I like to follow a code of ethics, which a lot of people don’t follow. Even though I would have liked to be given all my hunting needs, I’m proud of myself for going out and getting those needs by myself. Buying my bow and getting into bow hunting, caused me to take responsibility and taught me to stay committed to a true value in my life.

my first rifle hunting experience was on a cold november evening,my brother woke me up and said there was a deer. i bumped the wall when i

Many people think of the bahamas, or a five star hotel when a vacation is mentioned, however that is not true for all. For those who enjoy the outdoors and nature, a nice hunting trip speak more to them. Hunting has been seen in our culture for centuries as a way of reconnecting with nature, and in todays world with the lack of predators it is used to keep nature in balance, as well as keeping in touch with our ancestral traditions.

Of all the hobbies out there one of my most fond hobbies would have to be duck hunting. It’s something that nothing else in this word can compare to. Chasing ducks is something that’s been in my blood for three generations now. From a very young age I’ve been very into the sport. Duck hunting is a passion that comes deep from my family, from my dad to my grandfather we’ve all become obsessed with the sport. Wading through the flooded fields and timber of the Mississippi delta, and shooting ducks is something that will never go out of style to me.

My eyes gravitated toward sudden movement in the right side of the binoculars. I instantly caught a glance of a huge rack of antlers creeping out of the pine trees. Instinctively, I threw down the binoculars, grabbed my gun, found the buck in my cross-hairs, took the safety off, and fired. The deer immediately dropped.

Waking up before the rising sun on the morning of the hunt left me feeling groggy with my eyes slow to open and close when blinking. Being extra quiet to not wake up my mother was a main challenge, trying to tippy toe around the cabin and dodging the creaky spots in the floor. Prior to eating breakfast, I began getting dressed. Due to the fact that I was in northern Minnesota, the weather was bone chilling and the wind would seep right through your layers onto your unexpecting skin. Once I had put on my long johns, sweatpants, and long sleeve shirt with a tee shirt on top I began to make my breakfast. I had decided to have scrambled eggs that were cooked to perfection with the yolk golden mixed in with the pure snow white egg white and flakes of pepper sprinkled throughout and toast with butter melted onto the crunchy outside making it soft with homemade strawberry jam spread thick on top.

One dark, Stormy August night on my deer lease in the area of Newhope, Ar I risked my life walking back from my four wheeler to my cabin. From my cabin to my four wheeler was a good three miles or so. This night I risked my life, and it could have been gruesome.

Leaves have all transformed to different colors, pumpkins are being hunted down, and the smell of Fall is brewing. October is here. It is not the costumes, carvings, or delicious caramel corn that gets me all hyped up, it is the opening day of duck season. Duck hunting is one of my most cherished times to spend with my dad, grandpa, and younger sister. I started tagging along with my dad at about three years old. At that age, rather than handling a gun, I handle some crayons and a coloring book in the back of the blind. Five years later I was able to start shooting on my own and still continue to.

That next weekend, we went to Lynnville on an early October morning. I could not believe it was all actually happening. I had been wanting to do this for so long and I was certain nothing could get in my way. As we made the half hour drive there, I had the window down with the fresh, chilled air blowing in my face. I kept thinking about war movies wondering if I would freeze once I saw the large brown animal standing before me and not be able to shoot. The biggest thing I worried about consisted of not letting my old man down. He handed over his time to come out there with me and I wanted to make sure it was well worth it.

Imagine having the feeling of complete serenity as you lay still waiting; listening to every broken stick, crushed leaf, and bird chirp. Waiting for the footsteps of a deer or the image of one in the distance to fill your veins with adrenaline which gives you that feeling you dream about. All this leading up to one pull of a trigger, sending a message to your brain that tells you you’ll be a hunter for the rest of your life. This image was a very important part of my life.

Just a typical evening driving home from work, tired from such a long day. Lis-tening to the music just trying to stay awake. All of a sudden something runs out in front of you, and without any hesitation you slam on your brakes. Next thing you know, there is a deer, that u just about hit, standing inches in front of your car. Just a typical deer running like they always do, when it gets close to dark.

Everyone kills, and everyone eats. Not everyone eats what they kill, but these remain two of the most intimate forms of communing with our environment, whether we recognize them as such, or not. Almost 40 000 Americans are killed each year as the result of homicidal, accidental, and suicidal uses of guns; in all, Americans wielding guns intimidate, wound, and kill hundreds of thousands every year. These were the kinds of ideas impressed upon me as I grew up in my urban home: Guns were beasts, as were knives, arrows, spears, indeed anything could become a weapon if held in a particular way. We sprayed each other with the hose instead of water guns, and spent many long hours as a family "communing with nature" through long walks on the

For many people hunting is just something they do to pass the time, but for me it’s so much more! For me the love and passion for hunting started at a very young age, before I was even old enough to walk I was on my dad’s shoulders as he walked through a field shooting pheasants. One of the great benefits of living in Texas is there isn’t any age restrictions on hunting so if your parents think you can do it all you gotta do is go pick up a license from your local Walmart or hunting store. So at the age of four is where it all began, it was only a Russian Boar, but from that point on it just meant the world to me.

INTRO: I never thought I would feel so awful after pulling that trigger and watching that innocent animal give it’s life to me. I was only ten years old and my life was certainly impacted forever. Nowadays, many people think that pulling the trigger of a gun is not hard at all. In reality, it might be pretty easy. It is the aftermath on the other hand that will leave an internal scar, changing a person forever. On my first deer hunt, a young buck stepped out of the dense willow clusters with it’s head down, giving me a shot. Soon I would be faced with the tough decision of taking the life of an innocent animal. Meanwhile, on my first turkey hunt, there too I would soon be changed forever.

After that we sat in silence for about 20 minutes until the cold began to nip at my feet and the tips of my fingers which made me very restless but I tried to do my best so I would not scare away the deer. When we hit the 60 minute mark I was bored out of my mind, I thought I would go crazy, but suddenly my Father grabbed my coat and pointed out Words the west side of the field that we were watching. I