Short Story Series #2
This question was asked by my good friend, Keifer. Let me take you down memory lane.
First solo hunt.
It was a typical damp fall day in Longview Washington as I grabbed the single shot 20 gauge that was leaning up against the corner in our laundry room. Throwing on a fleece jacket and my rubber boots I headed to the far corner of our property for evening stand. Dad was still working and all I could think about was hunting, so I wasted no time heading out after school. My desire to be outside started when I was very young, and just as the bones in my body started to grow, so did my love for the natural world.
There was a particular part of our property the deer often traveled through in the evening as they got up from their beds to feed for the night. Roughly 10 maple trees gave a more open grassy area leading up to the thick patch of timber, and many times we would bring a bucket or two of apples that had fallen from the trees, and drop them for the deer to munch on. Nestling up under a fur tree that surrounded the maples, I tucked my knees up towards my chest, using them as a rest for the shotgun. The rain started drizzling down, and I settled in for the evening, hoping the fleece, one size fits all unisex outfit mom made for us, would keep me dry.
The rain showed no sign of letting up when I heard a stick break in the thick foliage of black berries and ferns. Turning over the primos doe bleat call I had next to me, visions of a buck filled my imagination as I waited, my heart beating loud in my chest. No more than 15 seconds passed and a dark antlered forkie (2 points on each side) stepped out, his ears up and nose sniffing, looking for the hot doe. Breathe, I told myself as I brought the shotgun ever so slowly up to my shoulders. Distracted by the doe call, the buck walked out, strutting his stuff and at just 20 yards he stoped perfectly broadside, as a 20 gauge slug created a massive hole in both of his lungs. He ran no more than 50 yards, and piled up in the dark timber.
Adrenaline coursed through my body as I jumped up, and ran to the house to tell dad I had just killed my first buck, and I did it all on my own! Nearly running into the kitchen, my siblings were cleaning up the dinner dishes as mom and dad visited at the dinner table. “I got him!” I told dad who thought I was joking, but as I pulled the empty casing to the slug out of my pocket, my hand still shaking with excitement, dad said, “Oh! Your not kidding! Let’s go get him.”
As a new hunter I wasted no time tagging along with anyone I could, whether it was my brother’s or my dad, I was always thinking about hunting season. This hunt will forever be a proud moment for me. A moment as a young girl were to proved to myself, that I can do it on my own!