My First Deer

          My dad is big into deer hunting and so are his sons. We have hunted with him several times. We did not shoot them, he did. It was fun except the fact that we had to sit quietly on a metal deer stand in very cold weather. That was not the fun part of hunting. I loved seeing the deer and other animals in the wild. Deer are very observant and keep a keen eye out for danger. Sometimes they would see, hear, or smell us and would run away. I did not like that part because we would be back where we started and have to wait till more deer came around.
          When I was twelve, I had an opportunity I could not pass up. My dad had acquired some papers called 'Apprentice Licenses'. They allowed some one who had not hunted before hunt with an adult guardian and shoot the deer themselves. I was very excited. I would be able to hold the gun myself and knock 'em dead.
          After several days of intense hunting, my dad came home with his deer that he got while I was at school. It was a heavy nine point with thick main beams. A beautiful deer for us. Dad started talking and told me that as he was gutting his deer, he saw another buck pushing his body across a field. The next night, we put on our camouflage and hunters orange and headed out. As we got out of the car, I accidentally hit the lock button and locked my dad and I out of the car. He left the keys right on the seat with his phone. After a few minutes of trying to get in, we walked over to a friend who was hunting on the other side of the property and he took us home. We went and got the van back, but it was too dark to shoot anything. The next morning my dad and I found the deer. I shot it and watched it die. I cried as it writhed in its death throes. It was previously shot in the front legs by another hunter and I had to shoot it to put it out of its misery. It was a great deer for my first one. Nine points, though not as big as my dads. I was happy.