Personal Narrative : My Family's Hunting Camp

“Doe season” is a short literary work featured in one of Kaplan's popular collections. “Doe Season” may be short in length relative to other types of literature, but exhibits a deep, underlying meaning that burrows deeper than the story itself. One of the key components to the creation of “Doe Season” is the symbolism it displays. The title itself is very symbolic, as well as the descriptive writing used in this short work. While “Doe Season” takes place in a common setting, traversing the woods while hunting, a few aspects of the story are unique in the sense that the story is told from a 9-year-old girl's perspective. While hunting has long been seen as a man's task or hobby, this story follows

The sun was glistening through the tall, swaying pines. To the right of the trail, a gentle river flowed softly down towards the mouth of the lake. Walking across the rickety wooden bridge, I inhaled a deep breath of refreshingly crisp mountain air. The sun beat down on me as I made my way across the bridge and back onto the well-used hiking trail. The ambient sounds of chirping birds, babbling water, and the croaks of several frogs filled my ears as I made my way around the bend. As I entered the mouth of the forest, I could see my father standing in the middle of the path, glancing upwards, taking in the beauty that had began to engulf us. “We better get going.” he said, looking back at me. “There’s still many miles to go.” I smiled and turned, taking in one last view of the beautiful creekside. Then, with determination, we set out to finish the challenging trek we had started.

During the summer before my Freshman year I went to hell and back, and by hell I mean Philmont scout ranch. Just a little background, Philmont scout ranch is 140,117 thousand acres of big rugged, dry, mountainous terrain. I knew what I was getting into, Ever since I joined boy scouts Philmont was regarded as the ultimate scouting experience, so of course i was pressured into that. Eventually summer rolled around and before I knew it I was on a train to New Mexico.

One summer my parents informed my brother Ben and I we were going on a trip to Yellowstone National Park. I had never been so excited for anything in my life. I had a passion and love for nature, and being that Yellowstone had some of the most beautiful and interesting geological features on Earth, I knew I would have a blast. They said we would be going in a few weeks, and I literally couldn’t wait. I kept asking questions upon questions, and finally, my dad just got annoyed. “Go research it, Juliette.” He said. “The internet will know more than I do.” I took his advice and went to research Yellowstone.

In the short essay “Why I Hunt” by Rick Bass, the writer gives the reader his personal perspective of what hunting is like for him. Rick Bass goes on to share the story of his family’s move from the hills of Fort Worth, Texas to the very remote Yaak Valley of Montana. The move to this area makes Bass want to hunt more since there is a better variety of prey, and due to everyone that has lived in what Bass calls “the Yaak”, has hunted their entire lives, he feels obligated to do it more than what he did when he lived in Texas (655). In “Why I Hunt, Bass argues that his love for hunting is an enjoyable hobby that develops his imagination and gets him in touch with nature, and that people should put down technology and try hunting. Bass uses imagery to show the beauty of hunting, and pathos to describe his emotions towards hunting.

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

One cold, dreadful winter day in November, the wind was biting at our faces, high in the Ouachita mountains at Ash Creek deer camp, I would have to face my most dreaded fear. I would be faced with losing the person that means the uttermost to me.

Our yearly pilgrimage to our deer lease in Menard, Texas starts every year on the first Friday in November. To get there we head four hours north thru the sprawling metropolis of San Antonio, full of its traffic and impatient drivers. Upon leaving the city limits of San Antonio, we head west towards Kerrville and the landscape starts to change drastically. No longer are we driving on flat land but now the car is climbing small hills and the road winds. We drive in this direction until we reach the vast acres of ranch land located on a lonely farm road between the small cities of Junction and Menard. If you drive too fast down the winding road, you will miss the old metal gate that is almost hidden by brush trees. My husband is the hunter, yet I love to come with him, because this is the place, where I disconnect from the fast paced life of city dwelling and feel reconnected once again to nature and I find peace and rest here in this cactus and dirt oasis.

I live in a small town that goes by the name of Lafayette. The population is 4,500. Everyone knows where everything is, when everything is, and what everything is. As a child, my mother and I would go to a beautiful waterfall on a small back road when the sun was shining, when the trees and rocks were just right, and when it was damp and perfect for four wheeler rides. The Union Camp waterfall is majestic. The scenery makes a person speechless. We would always go when the weather was perfect. The waterfall is one childhood memory I will always remember. The activities my mother and I would do were always a blast. My trips to Union Camp waterfall are memorable because of the scenery, the weather, and the activities.

“Okay Reed, time to go!” My dad shouts from the garage. We had everything prepared and packed to go except for the shotgun. My dad and I have been looking at an area of public hunting land that might be good for hunting all kinds of game. We came to that conclusion after seeing a big pond and deep forests on the map. Today was going to be a day full of short lived excitement and disappointment, and I had no clue.

Would you go to Jewish Cowboy Camp? You would need to learn how to be a cowboy, eat weird food, and in addition of this while knowing absolutely nobody? I would. Jewish Cowboy Camp is in Elbert, Colorado. It is this isolated ranch in the middle of nowhere. This is the shirt that I got from the camp. It shows that I'm very outgoing because for most people going to Jewish Cowboy Camp sounds outlandish and crazy.

The sun peeked its face out on the Canadian wilderness. The light reflected beautifully off the snowy mountains. In fact, the whole wilderness here was covered in a blanket of snow. The snow was littered in fallen pine needles, pine cones, and the footprints of rabbits, wolves and deer. Branches of leafless trees were bending from the snow resting on them. Near one of the trees a bull moose was sharpening his antlers on the trunk, the sharp prongs easily piercing through the bark. When the moose got finished, it soon broke into a sprint when it caught an unfamiliar scent.

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

Before I went to Pathfinder Ranch, my sister told me all about it and how much fun it was. After my sister talked about it I could not wait to go and when i finally got to go it was over so fast. My experience at Pathfinder Ranch was amazing. I made so many good memories there .

I perched myself up in a tree stand overlooking a massive river valley. This is the place where deer come down and across in order to get to the fields for feeding. The towering tree stand soared over many small trees. I glanced over the railing, looking down at the snowy forest floor many feet below. It was a frightening height. “Pull your gun up. I’ll work my way back around to try and push some deer