On October 7th, 2006, I went hunting. Last year I had seen two doe at the same time, but never got a shot at them, fearing opening the window to the blind would scare them. I awoke around 5:30 am, so I could get to the blind before daylight began to settle in on the 10 acres my grandfather owned. My grandpa, my dad, and I hiked up the hill to the blind, the path only lighted by a flashlight my grandpa held. I had my bow in one hand and a bottled Vernors drink in the other. I had two shirts and a heavy winter coat on, it was so cold. I took a deep sigh, hoping that I would be eating venison for a while. When we got up there, I put my bow on a hook and carefully nocked an arrow with a razor-sharp head on the string. I felt for my release, making sure I hadn't forgotten it back at the cozy cabin. With everyone settled in, we waited in anticipation for a deer to strut purposefully to the feed pile so I could kill it. My father started dozing off, my grandpa doing the same shortly after. Even I couldn't escape the embrace of sleep. I managed to fight it off, looking at my Vernors that was on the table. We were in there for about an hour with no luck, when we suddenly noticed something move towards the frozen corn. No luck, it was only a squirrel. Another hour and a half had passed and still no luck. We decided to head back towards the cabin, and when we got inside, we all enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace, knowing we would leave it in a few hours to lug ourselves back to the very spot we had just gotten back from. I took off the coat, along with the heavier shirt, only to reveal a flimsier one, which was a slate blue and had a number of things not to say to a cop. I slid my white and blue tennis shoes off. I moved various things off of my bed, then I lied in it, asking my father, Jon, to cover me up with the two sleeping bags we had brought along with us. It only took a few minutes before my weariness overwhelmed me. I awoke, my bladder full from a full nap, and went into the small bathroom. Relieving myself, I flushed the toilet and washed my hands. I noticed my dad had passed out on the comfortable sofa, the very one I had passed out on the previous night from a two and a half hour drive into Ogemaw county. Seeing him so peaceful on the couch once again encumbered me with sleepiness. So I went back into the room and dozed off. About an hour later I was awoken by my father so I could get some lunch before going to hunt once more. I ate a salami sandwich, smothered in mayo, ketchup and mustard. After lunch, I donned my camouflage outfit, this time leaving behind my winter coat. I took a facenet to conceal my facial features save my eyes and the bridge of my nose. I put on a cap to secure the net, and pulled a pair of camo gloves too. Taking my camouflaged, $209, light bow, I went into the refrigerator and pulled out a Pepsi to slake my thirst. It was about 60 degrees Farenheit outside, so us three men didn't freeze. It was late by the time my silent prayers to some unkown hunting god were answered, because my father saw a beautiful doe approach the blind. She bent down, her rear end facing me, and ate some of the corn. I pulled the bow off the hook, and placed my release below the arrow. I waited for what seemed like forever, staring at her black and white tail, when she started turning. For about another ten minutes, she turned slowly, when she became broadside. I pulled back on the string of the bow, then was halted by my dad. He told me to wait until she put her head down again. I was completely unaware of the fact that she was staring right at me. I waited for another five seconds until she put her head down again. I pulled back all of the way, and when I was finished, she stared right at me. The doe was still broadside, and so I pulled the trigger of the release, forgetting the wise advice my Grandpa Jack had told me, which was to take a deep breath and let out half of it, holding in the last of it to make my shot steadier. I refused to listen to this advice, because my stomach was in my throat, and forgot the words that could have given me dinner. Twang! I saw the arrow fly right above the beast, not knowing where it went. The deer had taken off, but she stopped and I could see her still, our eyes meeting. That was when I lost all sense of time, all of my focus on the beautiful creature. She came towards the blind, for she didn't know the sound of a bow because it was the first time she was shot at. She took off towards the clearcut, and I haven't seen her since. We looked for the bow, and I was hopeful to find it first, having my dad promised a crisp 50 bill if I did. No such luck. My grandfather found it lodged in a sapling, making me lose my chance at fifty dollars. I still got twenty for shooting at it though, and for that I was happy. Us men waited for another century, at least that is what it felt like. Unbeknownst to me, another event would happen later that night. It started as a trip to a friend of Jack's. We got there, my grandpa promising we would only be there for a half hour. After about a half hour, his friend pulled out what seemed like an assault rifle. It was a rifle, but it was for target practice only. It was all black, and had a 30 round clip. It wasn't an assault rifle, but a 234 rifle. Being heavy, I couldn't hold it up for long. I liked it too much, and was forced to hand it over. We left, and I soon passed out, only to be awoken at 6:30 the next morning.
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