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Descriptive Essay On My First Buck

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My First Buck
If I said I got a good night's rest the day before the opening day of hunting season, I would be lying. I was so thrilled, I woke up every twenty minutes checking my phone for the time and of course right when I passed out from being sleep deprived, my alarm went off. Even though I was exhausted and my eyes could barely open up wide enough to put my contacts in, I was electrified to get the chance to harvest my first buck.
It was the middle of November of my first deer hunting season; I was sixteen years old. The darkened walk through the foggy woods was as cold as ice. Once I found my tree stand and climbed up the slippery metal ladder, I sat down and leaned my back up against the the tree. I took my gloves off to load my shotgun and by the time I got all three slugs into my shotgun my hands were completely numb. I put my shotgun on safety and quickly slipped my gloves back on, hoping I didn’t get frostbite.
I had been sitting in the tree stand for close to two hours only hearing the leaves below me blow in the harsh wind. I knew that deer frequented the area around my stand since my dad had shot deer in this same stand for several years before I took his spot. I got up to stretch and to also see if I had frozen to the tree stand; as I was stretching I heard the sound of breaking sticks behind me. I leaned over the right side of my tree stand to check if it was a squirrel scampering from one tree to another. My eyes scanned to see exactly where the sounds
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