Hunting Narrative

Hunting has always been one of my biggest interest, especially deer. It excites me, because anything could happen at anytime. Hunting is a passion for many people, and can be passed down from generation to generation like in my family. My grandfather started hunting after he married my grandmother, and he passed it on to my father, and then down to me.

I slowly pulled back my bow,on the biggest buck i had ever saw in my life.I had a twent

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.

It was the middle of October, and it was finally time for my long awaited moose hunt. I have waited ever since I was a little girl for this opportunity, and it was finally here. So, my father and I packed up our stuff and left the warmth of Phoenix. We were leaving the "Valley of the Sun" and headed for a place called Wyoming. After two days and fourteen long hours of driving, we made it to our hunting unit.

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.

The third Saturday of November was one filled with conflicting emotions: excitement, fear, optimism, and nervousness. The screeching sound of the alarm at 4:00 a.m. initiated a sense of panic and thrill throughout me; it was the opening day of the gun deer hunting season. Within minutes, I was dressed from head to toe in bright, blaze orange that could be recognized from miles away. I reluctantly, yet willingly, climbed into the truck to head to the hunting land in Adams County, Wisconsin. My stomach felt like it was tied into knots. My mind was again flooded with conflicting emotions. I began to wonder: will I get a deer? Will I not get a deer? Will I get a buck?

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.

"Sport" hunting is a violent form of recreation that has left countless animals maimed, and orphaned animals vulnerable to starvation, exposure, and predation. This activity disrupts natural animal population dynamics and has contributed to the extinction of animal species all over the world, including the Tasmanian tiger and the great auk.(1,2)

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.

Today is the fourth day me and Little Ann have been sitting here waiting to hunt. Billy is just walking around the camp looking at other dogs and talking to the hunters. He starts making his way back to Little Ann and I. In the buggy Billy digs us each out a weenie and feeds it to us. I swallow mine whole and look at him and ask for more. I don't really think he understood me because he just walked away smiling.

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.

The Hunters and Gathers enjoyed a better standard of living than that of the Neolithic village dwellers. The Hunting and Gathering bands had a longer life expectancy due to a greater diversity of food intake, they also survived due to a class society in which the smaller group had easier mobility and faced fewer disease, and lastly the hunting and gathering bands clearly had a better lifestyle.

First, my dad and I arrived at my grandma’s house at ten in the morning, before elk season started. We left the house and started to go to my grandma’s house. The two of us stopped for breakfast with a family friend. Then we left and got on the road again. It was about nine in the morning when we made it to Walmart to get our hunting licenses. We arrived at my grandma’s house right at

On Friday 13th, 1888, in Burnsville, Wisconsin. Ash Middle School was having a scary story day and Asher was up. As he walked up to the front of the classroom the lights went out. Everyone screamed! At that exact moment the window roared open. As Mrs. Crimson grabbed the flashlight, Asher went to close the window. “So Asher what do you have for us today?”, Mrs. Crimson said. I’m going to tell you the most scariest story ever! So scary it will make you pee your pants. All the kids squealed!

A whole other week went by until I could get ready to go again. The second attempt for the final day finally approached after what seemed like a year had passed. The morning came and I anxiously got ready again for the hunt I dreamed about forever. My father and I got to our hunting lease in Arkansas and quickly set up in a spot where we thought we would seek our prey. In a faraway distance, my father spotted two squirrels in a tree, so we both quietly snuck up on the two species and my father set me up in the right position to kill the squirrels. At that time, my heart started beating unbelievably fast and I felt like I had an abundant amount of energy. We quickly got in position for the kill of the two squirrels and I realized my whole body started to shake and it felt like it was impossible to hold my gun up to shoot. I immediately fired repetively at the two squirrels and finally made contact with one of them and it fell to the ground. I then started jumping for joy and was greatly amused with myself for killing my first