My First Time Hunting by Caleb Page

            When I was little the only thing outdoors that I really knew about was fishing but then, during Thanksgiving break when I was five it all changed.

 I was just on a normal phone call with my grandpa the day before thanksgiving, I wasn’t thinking much about it but then out of the blue he asked “do you want to go hunting tomorrow?”. It struck me as odd, because I had seen the guns before but never used any and my parents didn’t and still don’t know about anything outdoorsy. My mom told me that I should try it just for my grandpa so I agreed and it was set.

 I zoomed around my room gathering all my warm clothing and my snow boots. I arrived at my grandparents’ house late that night, I was greeted by the usual of their white toy poodle jumping up and down at your waist as if saying “hey, hey, hey, look at me”. Later I lay down on the pull out couch wondering about what is to come the next morning. I was woken up at four thirty by a shake, “the deer ain’t gone wait on you”. I got up like a soldier who got caught in a bombing raid. I’ve never quite understood how I wasn’t tired even at five in the morning. I had a bowl of lucky charms and a glass of orange juice. I usually drink the milk but the blue look the marshmallows gave it didn’t make it appealing so I left it.  I got outside to see the black rusty truck with the paint peeling off staring right back at me. We got in the truck and drove down the road to his land and pulled down the road, he stopped in front of a field and we didn’t get out. I wasn’t sure what to do because I always thought they sat in tree stands.  He broke the silence and told me where the deer would come from and when, I looked at the gun sitting next to me. It was a Marlin lever action 30-30, “I waited till I thought you could handle it before bringin’ you out.” At this point the suns golden rays were staring to flow over the horizon. We sat in the truck for about an hour then we saw a squirrel cross the field, as if signaling the deer right after the squirrel left two does came out at the end of the field. My grandpa kept reminding me to always look around and not get caught up with the two in the field. Near a half our later a spike buck came up by the side of the truck, I had forgot to keep looking around so I didn’t see him, and since I was only five I would have probably shot him if I saw him before he came around, but he was walking away and there was never a good shot. The rest of the morning passed and we went back to the house at about ten thirty, Thanksgiving dinner was served later that day and my parents took me home. Now I hunt whenever I can and love every second of it, my brother however never caught on to it so that’s more for me. This is one of my fondest memories and I remember it very well.