Big Buck Luck

Wyatt Park, 11, of Newborn, with his first big buck. He shot the deer in Newton County on Dec. 28, and then he wrote an excellent hunt story.

By Wyatt Park

The sky is still black when I hop out of bed to go deer hunting. I slip on my pants and jacket. After that, I eat a dense breakfast of eggs and cereal. My grandpa, Doc, is coming to pick me up. Once he arrives, I walk out into the cold, dark air to greet him.

“Hey, Wyatt!” he says.

“Hello,” I reply.

“Are you ready for a big day?” he asks.

“Oh yeah,” I say, ready for the big adventure.

We pack all of my gear and hop into the car. The burst of warm air feels like a hot fire. We drive to his house and unpack everything.

“We’re early. Do you want to wait in the house until it gets a little lighter?” Doc inquires.

“Sure,” I say.

When the time is right, we walk silently to the old box stand. When we arrive, we open the creaky door and climb in with all our hunting gear. Once we get adjusted, we shut the door and sit quietly, listening to the birds. I spot a woodpecker pecking into the flaky bark of a pine tree. Suddenly, I see something across the powerline. I quickly gaze through my scope, scanning for any movement. My eye catches something. It’s two plump turkeys hiding in the grass. I shift my gun to the right. My eye lands on something else. I soon discover it’s a small buck with a wide rack. I would shoot it, but it is just too far of a shot. We wait longer. The cold is creeping into my boots, and I can see my breath. I can still see the same woodpecker drumming on the same tree.

“Wyatt! I see a good buck!” Doc suddenly says. I slowly shift my position to see what he is talking about. The buck is in the woods to the right of us, sniffing the frozen ground.

“Can I shoot it?” I whisper, hoping it’s a yes.

“That’s a big buck. Give it a shot. Shoot when you’re ready,” he said.

I can feel my heart beat faster as I set my gun into position.

Raise your gun and aim. Click the safety off. Slowly and calmly pull the trigger. You got this.

BOOM! The shot is an explosion of noise that pounds the air. The gun lurches back as the bullet slices the air. I see the buck run off. I’m not sure if I nailed him or not. I feel nervous as we check to see if I got him. As we march down the old and forgotten terraces, the cold air nips at my nose and my feet feel numb. Then we see it. My deer is lying on the cold ground, dead. All of the sudden, the nervous feeling lets go. I had actually gotten him!

We had no idea that dragging him out of the woods and hoisting him into the ranger would be so challenging! After about two hours of work, we get him to the house. We skin and cut the meat off him.

Then Doc asks, “Would you like to go to Rooster’s?”

“Yes!” I reply enthusiastically.

The hot fried chicken and salty fries sure hit the spot after all of that walking, waiting, shooting, pulling and skinning! I return to our house, proud that I had accomplished something that I have always wanted to do. Exhausted, I plop down onto my bed and sleep peacefully like a log, dreaming of deer hunting. I will never forget this adventure-packed day when I shot my first big buck.