Narrative Paper

My First Deer Hunt

“Aim small, miss small.” That is what my dad always told me when he took me hunting. It was our hunting motto and we applied it to our lives like it was a national law. My dad and I hunt for three reasons; which is food, bonding between a father and his son, and the rush of pulling the trigger. “Aim small, miss small.” These are the exact words that my dad whispered into my ear when I shot my first deer.

My pulse raced; I had been too excited to sleep. I sat on my bed and watched my alarm clock. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. I looked at my calendar to make sure the date was right. It was November 15, 2000, the first day of Illinois whitetail deer season. As a typical eight year old I had been just as happy to get out of school for a day, and spend time with my dad who I only got to see three days out of the week. My dad worked with an electrical company that took a lot of distant contracts, so on a regular week my dad would leave Sunday afternoon and come home late Wednesday night. Therefore getting this chance to partake in such an experience with my dad was like a dream come true for me.

Finally the alarm clock went off and I quickly jumped off my bed. Tearing off my pajamas and throwing on my layers of clothing, I heard my dad’s alarm go off. Being a light sleeper, my dad quickly shut it off and walked into my room to check on me and make sure I was up. He opened my door and saw me standing there already dressed and ready to go, and he smiled at my enthusiasm.

“You ready to go Big Dog?” My dad asked, with one of his hundred little nicknames for me.

“Yes!” I almost yelled, but then I remembered that my sister Eden and mom were still sleeping down the hall.

“Well get your thermos ready then. Then go pack your twenty gauge in your case. Oh, and make sure you grab your shells too.” Dad said as he walked back towards his room.

Doing as he asked I walked into the kitchen down the hall and put the water kettle on the stove. While...