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Bobby sucked in his breath and slowly raised his rifle to his shoulder, being careful not to make a sound. Everything his father had ever told him about deer hunting ran through his mind.
Don’t make a sound, pay attention to the direction of the wind, make sure you have a clear shot, aim for the heart, squeeze the trigger gently, watch which direction it runs, you’ll have to follow the blood trail and haul it out of the woods.
He counted the points – 6, maybe 8. The buck pawed at the ground and moved a few steps behind the brush.
Bobby held his aim. His arms were beginning to ache from the tension in his muscles. He shivered, but not from the cold. His hands were sweaty.
The deer snapped his head up and looked in the exact direction of the deer stand. It was a stare-down and Bobby was not about to come out on the losing end of the contest.
Finally the buck relaxed, took a step forward and began eating again.Bobby felt his finger curl tighter around the trigger. He squeezed, heard the blast and felt the recoil of the gun all at the same time.
It was a perfect shot. The deer dropped to the ground, twitched a bit and didn’t move again.
Bobby climbed down from the stand and made his way to his kill. Standing over the beautiful beast, he stared at the large pool of blood forming under the deer’s neck.
It was a horrible scene and yet his eyes were drawn to it like a magnet. He hated seeing the magnificent animal lying dead, but he felt the thrill of the kill. He had bagged his first deer and he was hooked on hunting!
(Copyright © 2010, 2011 Jan Christiansen. All rights reserved.)
Full of conflicting emotions!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Judy - this a sort of true fiction story. Bobby is my brother and that's his picture, but the story is the way I imagine it would have been when he killed his first deer. He's been an avid hunter since he was very young.
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