It was the middle of buck season when Dad and I went to our neighbor’s property where I had shot my doe. Once we got there, we saw two doe already out. We got settled down. It was only about 10 or 15 minutes before a three-point buck walked out about 200 yards away.
We waited for a clean shot, but then a four-point walked out. Dad said, “Get the cross hairs on that buck!” I felt nervous, but I got the cross hairs on the four. I calmed down and squeezed the trigger. The buck started running. My dad said, “You hit it,” and I trusted him.
Dad and I got everything in the truck but the gun. We went out to the field to look for blood, but we did not find any. It was getting dark, so we went home. I was very disappointed. I had school the next day, and Dad had to go back to work. So we asked my granddad to look for it in the morning.
Early that morning, I saw Granddad’s truck heading past my house, back to my hunting spot. Before I went to school my granddad called. He found my buck!! I was so happy, but I didn’t get to see it before I had to get on the bus. I did call my mom and my dad, though, and told them that Granddad had found it. Dad was so excited for me that he came home early so he would be the first one to see my face when I saw my buck.
The whole day I could not wait. I finally got home, and there it was. I was SO happy! I thanked God for letting me get that buck, my dad for guiding me, and my granddad for finding it.
That is the story about my sixth deer.