This is one I find really special, I just through it together a couple weeks ago. All/Any feedback is much appreciated!!!

I was four years old the first time I stepped foot in a deer blind with my Grandpa. He was my hero, he was the deer hunter I wanted to someday become, he was my Papa. When I was ten, my Grandpa slipped on a patch of ice and passed away. I never got to hunt with Papa after that sacred day in his jack-pine-flooded forest. All I ever wanted was to show him I could shoot a buck, and I knew right where it would take place…

Situated on the outskirts of a small yooper town lies a place I call home. Deer camp. Not because we shoot huge bucks here (because we don’t), not because it’s a million dollar mansion (because it isn’t). It’s home because of the memories made here. Particularly one for me.

I was fourteen years old and as long as I could remember I had waited for this moment. I was going to deer camp with “the guys”. We began crossing the Mighty Mac and Dad pressed play on the CD player. Fred Bear came on and Chills shot down my spine and excitement flooded my body. I heard the song countless times but nothing compared to this one single time. I knew then and there I had to get my first buck; I had to prove I could be one of “the guys”.

Opening day Dad and I took residence in a blind on the corner of a field; we saw numerous doe throughout the day, but no antlers. That was ok; the next day was the 16th, my favorite number. It was destiny. It had to happen. Come on Fred Bear, I thought to myself as we zoomed past the dark, wild, cedar filled forest, send me a buck!

It was an hour and a half after first light; about the time an adolescent teenager starts to lose hope, when my cousin came over the radio. “Matt, there’s a spike coming your way, I spooked him off my bait pile…Get ready”. My eyes opened, my hands twitched, and I started to get that feeling…That sick feeling…I felt a fever coming on fast. I zoned out and focused on my surroundings, Dad whispered something from the seat next to me but all I could hear was my heart pounding through the twelve layers of clothes wrapped around my body. Five minutes went by, is he coming? At that very moment, the two doe feasting on my corn-filled bait pile saw something I couldn’t. They looked to the West and in the blink of an eye they were history. The king has arrived.

Down the Southwest lane, the most beautiful animal stepped out of the thicket. He stood tall and proud and slowly made his way through a stretch of young brush to my bait pile. Me vs. him, Moment of truth. Seventy yards away the yearling three point began to fill his stomach with corn, facing me dead on. He slowly turned broadside and a sixth sense took over. My hands stopped shaking, my head was clear, but with my heart still trying to pop out of my chest I slowly squeezed the trigger.

The buck dropped his body and headed back West. We waited for my cousin to come over and slowly walked to where the young buck recently stood. Blood, A Lot of Blood. We followed the red dark bubbly substance a good fifty yards when I saw white on the other side of the ravine. There under the young poplar tree lie my first deer, my first buck.

I went back to the shack alone to grab some supplies and took a minute to look up at the morning sky to thank Fred Bear. Before I could open my mouth, I realized Fred Bear didn’t send me that deer. It was my guardian angel. “Thanks Papa.”