I’ll never forget the night before my first hunting trip.  My mind swam in anticipation and excitement and sleep eluded me.  After what seemed like years, morning had come.  My grandfather had rose earlier to cook breakfast for my dad and me.  So with a big bag of bacon, eggs, and biscuits, we set out on the three wheeler.  We got to the stand and got settled in.  To me, the air was thick with potential for greatness.  It wasn’t long before a couple of does stepped into the clearing.  Daddy, now more excited than I was, told me to take the broadside one.  As I looked down the barrel, he reminded me of all the things we had practiced.  I aimed right behind her front shoulder and squeezed the trigger.  We all but ran down the lane to check for blood.  We tracked her into the woods where she laid.  I’ve never been so proud as we rode back to my grandfather’s house with that little doe strapped to the front of the three wheeler.  I was six years old when I killed my first deer, but that excitement and pride are still evident every fall.
   People who don’t hunt often don’t understand this insane obsession to wake up entirely too early to go outside where it’s entirely too cold.  They can’t fathom our drive, our commitment.  Those people have never experienced what it’s like to walk into the woods before dawn, climb a tree, and watch the sun come up.  My heart always skips a beat when I see one of God’s creatures in nature.  To a hunter, there’s nothing quite like getting into the woods on time, setting up in a place they’ve been scouting for weeks, that adrenaline rush when they see those antlers rising from the underbrush, the tension of their bow string in between cold, shaking fingers, the unparalleled anticipation as he heads their way, and the excitement of a nine yard shot.
   One of the greatest things hunting has done for me is bring me closer to my family.  We spend a lot of time together preparing for the season.  Any time we’re around each other, you can bet we’ll be sharing hunting stories by the end of the conversation.
   My dad always said hunting would teach me a lot about life.  The importance of being prepared, the patience of waiting on a deer to walk out, the sacrifice of watching all those small deer, waiting for that big buck to walk out, and the satisfaction when all that hard work pays off.  Even when I don’t see anything, I love the serenity of deer hunting.  The calm and quiet of nature is astounding.  It provides me with some alone time, some prayer time.  One quote that my sister once told me reminds me of this truth; a man once said, I don’t go hunting to kill things, I kill things for an excuse to go hunting.  Whether it’s sitting on a climbing stand, standing in a duck blind, or sitting next to that old white oak, when I see that sun hit the horizon, it reminds me of the majesty of our God.  There’s no such thing as an unsuccessful hunt.
   Hunters make the best conservationists.  Who cares more about the land and wildlife more than the people who love it and want to be a part of it?  The land that my dad showed me how to hunt on is the same land his dad taught him on.  My family has owned the same land for generations.  My grandfather once told me never to sell land, its value can only go up.  I enjoy the time I’ve spent with my family improving our land.  From thinning or planting trees, right down to trapping the beavers that threaten to flood the bottom, every action has a purpose.
   My forefathers hunted out necessity to obtain nutrition.  My generation hunts out of the necessity to experience the magic of the hunt.  The meat of the kill is still very important to today’s hunters, but it’s the tale of the kill that you’ll relive when you tell your hunting story.  Traditions are meant to be carried down through the generations. 
   In my family, hunting is a tradition.  My grandfather taught his children, who taught me, my sisters, and my cousins.  It has given all of us a common hobby like nothing else.  Sometimes it would seem like I had nothing in common with my sister until we got in the field and her eyes lit up.  My uncles sometimes seem so distant, but not when we’re walking through the woods hunting squirrels.  In the past eleven years, hunting has been a big part of my life.  I will never stop hunting, it’s part of who I am.  I look forward to passing this tradition down to my children.