RRmike
07-03-2009, 05:44 AM
Recently my son found out that an essay he wrote (originally for a school assignment, called "My Favorite Place to Be") was chosen as third place winner in a national contest sponsored by the Outdoor Writers of America Association. (He placed first in a state competition sponsored by Ohio Outdoor News and they sent it on to the national one.) What makes me even more proud is the content of the essay itself and that, of all the places a 12-year-old would choose to be, he said what he did. I included it below. Hope you enjoy it too.
Squirrel or Not, in the Woods With Dad is the Place to Be
“Brad,” my dad whispered, “half-way up that tree.” I looked. Half-way up the old, gnarled oak was a squirrel.
We had been waiting for a long time for a squirrel in this tree to come out. All day, we watched squirrels play in that one tree, but never at the right angle. I was beginning to get frustrated because I was so anxious.
Now was my chance, but it quickly scurried around to the other side. It was almost as if the squirrel was playing a game with us. It always stayed on the opposite side.
This time we tricked it. My dad slowly walked around the tree, forcing the squirrel to come back around to my side, as it tried to keep out of the sight of my dad. As soon as it came into my sight, I raised my gun and fit it tightly into my shoulder. I peered down the barrel and lined up the iron bead with the squirrel. With my thumb I carefully switched off the safety, all the while keeping the squirrel in my sights. My heart was racing, and I could feel myself breathing heavily, but I tried to hold my breath. With my index finger I slowly squeezed the cold, metal trigger. BANG!
We were hunting in a private woods owned by one of my relatives. I was very excited to go hunting that day. It was only my second time. I was just now growing into my gun, a Savage model 220, .410 gauge, passed down to me from my grandpa. My grandpa bought the gun when he was about twelve years old. He went hunting for rabbits with a .22 caliber rifle when he was my age. When his older brother found out, he told him never to hunt rabbits with a rifle. That very day they went out and bought that shotgun. It was also the shotgun my dad used until he was in high school, when he bought a bigger gun.
Hunting has been a tradition in our family for over seventy years. It started with my grandpa's brother, who taught my grandpa to hunt when he was about twelve. My dad hunted with Grandpa when he was old enough. When I was ten, I started going along and actually hunting.
One of the many reasons that I like hunting is being out in the wild, alone with my dad. On a good day, the weather feels a little chilly, but sunny. The woods are quiet, and a light frost covers the ground. There are many trees all around, and their leaves are turning colors and falling. Adjacent to the woods lies a large cornfield. Sometimes the animals in the woods visit the cornfields to gather ears of corn. We sometimes spot deer moving along the edges of the cornfields. Usually my dad and I scare up flocks of doves.
Away from the city and all the houses, the woods is very quiet and relaxing. Even the chattering of squirrels and calling of birds is enjoyable.
Another reason I like hunting is the adrenaline rush. When I see a squirrel, my heart starts thumping quickly. My hands get sweaty and my breathing gets heavier. I aim my gun at the squirrel and carefully pull the trigger. Even after we bag a squirrel, I'm still very excited. If we don't get a squirrel, I'm still happy and was glad I went. In the woods, with my dad hunting, is my favorite place to be.
Squirrel or Not, in the Woods With Dad is the Place to Be
“Brad,” my dad whispered, “half-way up that tree.” I looked. Half-way up the old, gnarled oak was a squirrel.
We had been waiting for a long time for a squirrel in this tree to come out. All day, we watched squirrels play in that one tree, but never at the right angle. I was beginning to get frustrated because I was so anxious.
Now was my chance, but it quickly scurried around to the other side. It was almost as if the squirrel was playing a game with us. It always stayed on the opposite side.
This time we tricked it. My dad slowly walked around the tree, forcing the squirrel to come back around to my side, as it tried to keep out of the sight of my dad. As soon as it came into my sight, I raised my gun and fit it tightly into my shoulder. I peered down the barrel and lined up the iron bead with the squirrel. With my thumb I carefully switched off the safety, all the while keeping the squirrel in my sights. My heart was racing, and I could feel myself breathing heavily, but I tried to hold my breath. With my index finger I slowly squeezed the cold, metal trigger. BANG!
We were hunting in a private woods owned by one of my relatives. I was very excited to go hunting that day. It was only my second time. I was just now growing into my gun, a Savage model 220, .410 gauge, passed down to me from my grandpa. My grandpa bought the gun when he was about twelve years old. He went hunting for rabbits with a .22 caliber rifle when he was my age. When his older brother found out, he told him never to hunt rabbits with a rifle. That very day they went out and bought that shotgun. It was also the shotgun my dad used until he was in high school, when he bought a bigger gun.
Hunting has been a tradition in our family for over seventy years. It started with my grandpa's brother, who taught my grandpa to hunt when he was about twelve. My dad hunted with Grandpa when he was old enough. When I was ten, I started going along and actually hunting.
One of the many reasons that I like hunting is being out in the wild, alone with my dad. On a good day, the weather feels a little chilly, but sunny. The woods are quiet, and a light frost covers the ground. There are many trees all around, and their leaves are turning colors and falling. Adjacent to the woods lies a large cornfield. Sometimes the animals in the woods visit the cornfields to gather ears of corn. We sometimes spot deer moving along the edges of the cornfields. Usually my dad and I scare up flocks of doves.
Away from the city and all the houses, the woods is very quiet and relaxing. Even the chattering of squirrels and calling of birds is enjoyable.
Another reason I like hunting is the adrenaline rush. When I see a squirrel, my heart starts thumping quickly. My hands get sweaty and my breathing gets heavier. I aim my gun at the squirrel and carefully pull the trigger. Even after we bag a squirrel, I'm still very excited. If we don't get a squirrel, I'm still happy and was glad I went. In the woods, with my dad hunting, is my favorite place to be.