My first deer 

  It was a very cold morning just outside the little town of Murfreesboro, Arkansas as my Uncle Matt and I crept towards the deer stand just over the big hill. Today was the first Saturday of November which means the first day of youth deer season and I was super excited that I was going to get the chance to haul in my first deer at age eight.

  We finally made it to the top of the hill and we slowly made our way to the stand way up in the tree. My uncle and I got up in the stand and pulled the gun up. We sat waiting in the cold waiting for the sun to come up and right before there was enough daylight to shoot, a deer walked out of the woods. The deer grazed on the grass before it decided to head back towards the woods. My Uncle Matt was not going to let it get away, so he whistled at it and it came back towards the open field. This was my chance at about 40 yards away a nice buck stood broadside!

    I pulled up my .243 rifle, but I was too small to shoot over the safety bar on the stand, so I carefully got on my uncle’s lap. I attempted to aim right behind the deer’s shoulder…… Bam!!! The deer took off with a limp in, I knew I had hit it.

 We waited a couple of minutes before getting down to go look for a blood trail. We found several small drops of blood. I then took off towards the house where some of my family was staying so I could get my uncle's dog, Jeddah to help track the blood. After I got Jeddah along with my soon to be aunt I raced back to my Uncle. We looked for blood but could only find a short trail of before there was no more. We continued to search, finding little droplets here and there.

  After over an hour of searching we could not find anything at all, it was not looking very promising. I laid my gun down and wondered around for a couple of minutes before asking Uncle Matt if there was a creek nearby. I remembered that he told me that wounded animals usually go straight to water. He said that there was a creek at the bottom of the hill. By this time, my little brother was “helping us look” as well. We then ran down to the creek and looked around for a couple of minutes. Then I saw it!

  I could not believe my eyes, laying right in front of me in the creek was a nice 7-point buck that I had shot a couple hours earlier. I yelled at the top of my lungs that I had found the deer that none of us thought we would find. At first Uncle Matt did not believe me, but finally he came, and he could not believe it either. Then I realized that I had laid my gun down against a tree. I then sprinted with my future aunt, the cold air tearing at our throats, grabbed the gun, flung it on my shoulder, and sprinted back. The deer tried to get up and run but it only made a few feet before it collapsed. I raised my gun again…. Bam!!!

  This time the deer dropped dead, I had finally killed my first deer and it was super cool. From the original shot in the stand, to thinking it was hopeless, until I finally finished off the 7-point buck that now hangs above my nightstand. At eight years of age, I at last have killed my first deer on a day that I will remember for the rest of my life.