Personal experience essay deer hunting Essay
Personal experience essay deer hunting
“Hey! Here she comes! ” All the sudden the deer pops out of seemingly nowhere. She darts across the empty soy bean field in front of me. I raise my gun and prepare to take the shot. Nothing seems different today. It feels like any other day during deer season. Just like any other push we had done during the last 2 years I had hunted. But as this story will tell, this day will be different, probably one of the most different days of my life. As we walked into the public property we were going to hunt, we went over the plan. We had little smaller group today, but that was normal for a week day during late deer season.
We are hunting with shot guns shooting slugs, and I just happen to have a brand new gun. Since I’m one of the younger hunters and haven’t gotten a deer yet, I’ll be sitting. Waiting for the deer to come to me. The way we hunt is called party hunting, using pushers who walk towards the sitters scaring the deer in the direction we want them to go. The sitters wait at the end of the push for the deer to come at them. We all go over the plan one last time before we split up. We have to know where everyone is at all times for it to be safe and effective.
“Me and Craig will push, you and Kenny go sit” says Tracey, the logistical genius of the group. Growing up in these woods he knows them like the back of his hand. He has sat in every spot there is and walked every push in every way possible. I go with his dad Kenny down the rock path that the state put in so they could harvest the soy bean field at the bottom of the land we are hunting. The plan is for Craig and Tracey to zig zag back and forth across a patch of prairie grass, or CRP as we call it, and spook the deer towards me and Kenny, sitting along the edge of the woods past the end of the CRP with the soybean field in front of us.
Tracey hollers at us before we get out of ear shot. “Kenton, shoot ’em dead! But hey, don’t shoot me! ” I just smile and nod, not thinking anything of what he just said. He says it at the beginning of every push. Of course I’m going to shoot them dead I think to myself, if I can hit them that is. Me and Kenny keep walking down the road, both trying to be as quite as possible, both alert for any movement. Kenny stops in the middle of the road and turns to me “You walk first, and be ready. If we kick something up I want you
to have the first shot at it. ” I do as he says, after all, he has been deer hunting twice as long as I have been alive. I take a deep breath before I continue, my senses now on high alert. As we walk I hold the gun to my chest, one hand around the trigger guard with my finger on the safety, ready to click it off if something pops up. I put my other hand on the stock, where the pump action to reload is located. I think to myself “I did load it right? ” I open the breech just to make sure. “Yep, one in the chamber, ready to go. Just click the safety off and shoot” I have 5 shots in the new Remington 870 slug gun I’m holding.
I recall something Tracey said, “You have 5 shots, but make that first one count. If they weren’t hauling ass when you shot at them, they will be after that first shot. ” For a minute I get distracted by the new gun in my hands, it’s not mine, I’ve only been borrowing it. It sure is pretty though, not shiny, it’s dull so the sun doesn’t reflect off it and spook the deer, put still pretty. My old Winchester smooth bore doesn’t even compare. This new slug gun has a fancy rifled barrel, making the slug spin as it comes out, making it more accurate and able to go longer distances.
Something all of the sud en catches my attention out of the corner of my eye. I turn as I hear the stick snap. I stop and look, but don’t see anything. I finally see it, just a squirrel falling out of a tree. My heart starts beating again. Behind my I hear Kenny giggle. He whispers “careful, those monster squirrels will get you! ” I don’t even give him the satisfaction of commenting, just keep walking down the rock path. We finally get to the bottom of the path and Kenny starts leading again.
I follow him to the place where I will sit and wait. He walks a hundred feet then points to a spot 50 yards down the tree line. “Find a spot to pop a squat along there” He says. “Ok, which way are the pushers coming from” I ask, wanting to know where I can shoot. “Right over there” Kenny tells me, pointing south. “I’ll be around the bend in the tree line right by the rock path. Don’t shoot me. ” We nod and turn our separate ways, knowing that we are both in for a long, cold wait. It isn’t really cold today. Not polar cold. Just, Iowa cold. Beginning of winter in the Midwest cold.
I walk along the tree line to the spot Kenny told me to go to, still scanning the CRP looking for any signs of movement. I also look in the tree line up the hill, wishing we had more people so we could cover the ground better, not be so spread out. I make a mental note “we should hunt this during the weekend, looks like an ok spot. ” I now figure I have walked far enough. I turn around and see where we had been standing, look back at the woods and shrug. “Close enough I guess. ” I walk into the timber looking for a fallen tree to sit on. I stumble around, having no such look.
Next best thing I decide is to lean against a tree, shouldn’t be a very long push I figure. I find a tree that’s leaning a little, and I lean up against it. I scan across the CRP, then across the open soybean field to the east. I plan my shots just in case I get the chance to take them. “Don’t shoot into the CRP” I think to myself again and again. I start to rethink my spot. “Maybe I’m not hidden enough. Maybe I need to find a bigger tree to hide behind. ” By this time it’s too late though. I see the two orange figures walk into the south side of the CRP, headed north to kick the deer my way.