Essay on Personal Narrative- Moose Hunt

My story was told to me by my Grandfather when I was young as a way not to go into the woods alone it's a smart way to scare a young child into doing what you want. The story was about my Grandfather's last hunting trip in the woods. The year

One early saturday morning my dad (Shawn), my cousin (trey), and I woke up at 2:30 a.m. to go duck hunting. When we get out there we are one of the first people there and 4:00 comes along and we sent out to our spot. When we come to a spot that boats can't go we have to walk for about 15 minutes. As we are putting out the last of are decoys we here so more people throwing out decoys and they are pretty close. Well, we start talking to them and they are pretty nice and they ask if they can hunt with us and we said yes. Then, daylight comes and a group of ducks come in and we shot but I was the only one that killed one that we could find and it´s a drake which is a male mallard. Then, my dad shoots and we could not find his ducks.

It was about a 500-mile trek across the northern part of the state of Nevada from my house to where we were going to set up camp for the hunt. We had planned for two solid days of scouting the vast Jarbidge wilderness for elk. We had no guide so between me, my dad, and my uncle, lots of work was about to be done in the weekend.

The next Monday coach gave us practice off so I headed home again. That night I went over to my brother's house and borrowed his shotgun because it had a fully rifled barrel with a scope. This gun was much better than mine. While I was there we talked about where he had shot his deer and where he had saw other deer. I headed home that night with little hope that I would actually get a deer at all. It was really cold when I got up the next morning. I headed out to a spot near where my brother shot his deer. As I walked out the snow covered ground crunched under my feet. I got set up in my spot and settled down for the wait. I was sitting there for about forty five minutes when I heard a noise.

At 17, a muzzelloader elk hunt in Navada was one of the best things to have ever happened to me in my life. A tag for the Jarbidge WIlderness Area is one of the best spots for it too. It all started out on the 500 mile drive out to destination, followed by 2 solid days of scouting the ranges for elk. Archery season was just ending when we were starting so the elk had some pressure but not as much as in rifle season. There were plenty of bulls that were well worth of shooting so we felt like we had a good chance of getting one. On opening day, a Thursday, we got on 3 nice 5x5 and 6x6 bulls with my dad and my uncle spotting from a ridge away but we either had no shot or we spooked cows before we could shoot. That day I put of about 15 miles and 2,000 feet of climbing. That night we re-fueled and slept had for the long

killed a moose, “ I now wish I had never shot the moose. One of the greatest tragedies of my

With the hopes that it wouldn't snow, I traveled to Silverton Colorado with my dad in October. My dad and I had six elk tags for the very first rifle season. We pulled our camp trailer down to a nice wooded area about five miles before you get into town. The camp sight was about a quarter mile off of the highway. There were trees all around the camping spot; the only break in the trees was where the road came through.

Next thing I knew, it was February 12th, the night before my big hunt. I was so ecstatic that night, I could not sleep. I stayed up through the night cleaning my gun and making sure I packed everything. I ended up sleeping on the five hour drive to the hunting grounds. The next couple of hours we spent setting up the tents and gathering wood to make a fire. We got to sleep early that night so we could get up early and scout the area.

First, At about eleven o'clock I was riding around on my deer lease just listening to music and looking for deer. Also I was checking my game cameras. Next, I checked my deer camera and I thought I would make a circle and see if I could see any deer. So we are about halfway through making a circle and we start seeing some deer. Also, we saw a really big ten point, but it's about eleven thirty now and it's getting frigid .

As we were leaving at dusk to head back to camp after not seeing anything just up the valley from us we heard two shots and later found out that in the area we first started in that morning another person got a moose. The next day we went out at about the same time as the day before and went to a new spot. When we arrived there we walked for about an hour and then stopped because we thought we could hear something down the hill from us moving in the brush. Sure enough it was a moose but it was very hard to see and i couldn’t get a shot at it. We only got a glimpse of it for a few seconds and then it was gone. It is crazy how such a big animal can just disappear like it did without any sign. After that we kept going and the only other sign we saw that day was a shed from the year before that had been partially eaten by mice. We went home after that and the next couple of days were very much the same. Then it came to our final day of the hunt. We woke up very early that morning determined and excited to go to a spot we had to been to yet. We got to the new spot and hiked for about an hour before we came to a fresh trail where a moose had not passed through more than a few minutes before us. We most likely scared the animal as we were approaching the trail. We

I had really wanted to go hunting, as I had never been. My dad started practicing shooting with me, going over how the safety worked and how to hold the gun. I practiced with his .243, which had a little bigger kick than the .22 I was used to. Opening morning of deer season, we headed out of the house about 6:00. We were in a blind, up off the ground, looking over a big field with trees behind us. About 7:30, my dad elbowed me in the side, pointing ahead of us. I looked, and saw the buck. The body was a little small, but it had a decent rack, especially for my first time. I looked through the scope, and squeezed the trigger. The deer took off running, and then stopped about 20 yards later. Dad told me to shoot it again, in case I missed the first. I was shaking like a little kid hyped up on sugar, but I shot again. This time, the deer went down, spinning around in circles. My dad got out of the blind, taking the gun with him so he could put it out of its misery. He shot, and missed. By the time he got to the deer, it was dead. Dad went and got the truck, and we field dressed it. We took the deer to the processor, and saw where I had shot the deer. As it turned out, I didn’t need to shoot him the second time, the first would have killed him anyways. It was two inches to the left of the heart, and at 210 yards, I’m pretty proud of that. It was definitely something I won’t forget any time

IF YOU REALLY want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is why I love to hunt so much. To me, hunting season is probably the best time of the year. The weather is wonderful, not too hot and not too cold. It's basically a tradition to go to hunting camp every year. It's probably what I look forward to the most in the fall. When I go I am normally there with my dad, my uncle, a family friend named Kevin, and his dad named Archy. I go to hunting camp on the opening weekend of hunting season. The first day my dad and I set up everything at our blinds, and then head back to the camp. We spend the rest of the night hanging around with all the guys. It's super fun, we play games like 500 rummy and cribbage while watching whatever football games are

Throughout my life, the outdoors have been a large part of me. I was lucky enough to be raised by a family of hunters, being brought into the sport by my grandpa, dad, and uncle. Each and every year we take part in hunting white-tailed deer and turkey. When we're together, hearing stories of past hunts is routine. Looking at the shoulder mount of a buck or the spread fan and beard on the wall never fails to stir something up. Our family addiction has carried on through generations. However, as time has passed so has hunting.

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

It was about 13 degrees out and the sun had just started to peek over the mountains behind our house. It was a magnificent morning. It was one of those crisp, cold mornings with no wind and I could hear for miles and miles. I remember hearing my neighbor’s dog, Orvis, barking two miles away. I kept walking for about a quarter mile until I came upon a field that was always a hot spot for deer in the morning. It was an exciting feeling to be out in the woods with the deer, yet at the same time, a terrifying feeling. Was I going to fail yet another year of not bagging my buck? I was anxious as to what my family and friends would think of me. I needed to get a deer in the worst way.