by Terra L. Fletcher

Created on: September 07, 2010   Last Updated: September 09, 2010

It has been thirteen years since I went on a deer hunting trip.  I’m twice the age I was then.  I was so excited to go out in the woods.  Part of it was just being with my dad and my brothers.  Part of it was doing something girls weren’t supposed to do.

My first and last deer hunting excursion ended in disappointment.  When it came right down to it, I couldn't pull the trigger.  But a lot has changed since then.  I’m not a little girl anymore.  I like venison, my freezer is empty,and I know I can pull the trigger now.  

I was at my parents’ house for dinner one Friday night.  It happened to be the eve of opening day.  My dad was going hunting the following morning.  I was surprised.  My dad hadn’t gone for several years.  My mom thought it would be good for him to get out of the house and convinced him to go.  He always enjoyed deer hunting.

My dad was pleasantly surprised when I asked to go along.  Realizing that I still needed my license,  I raced home, grabbed my hunter’s permit, and made it to the hardware store just before they closed.  My dad gave me my old gun.  When I got home I made sure to re-familiarize myself with it.

Childhood memories of hunters' safety classes, deer hunting trips, sitting in the peaceful woods, and my dad’s lessons came back to me.  I was so excited.  I got out all my gear.  I packed the pockets of my jacket with snacks, a water bottle, and a book to read (just in case I got bored).  Then I remembered “the buck”.  That big beautiful buck that caused me to give up hunting so many years ago.

It was my first deer hunting trip.  I was just thirteen.  The twelve gauge I carried was probably bigger than I was.  My dad shot two bucks on opening day.  We only had doe tags left.  The next day I saw a big, beautiful, trophy whitetail buck.  Right there.  Right there!  And I couldn’t take it.

I just sat there watching.  I couldn’t do it.  Well, now I’ve got a score to settle.  I sat out nearly all day that opening day.  Nothing.  I didn’t see a thing.  Just hunters.  Everywhere I looked more hunters.  When my dad and I left the woods he said, “I think the deer should have to wear orange.”

I went out again Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.  Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.  I didn’t think this would be so hard.  I guess that’s why they call it hunting and not shooting.  Oh, well.  There is always next year.

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