Every year for my whole life we have gone down to Cove Fort and camped with my dad's side of the family for the deer hunt. I have always loved doing this, and have many great memories of going on the hunts, sitting by the fire, and the big dutch oven dinner on
saturday night. This year was the first year I had a tag. Mike and I woke up early
saturday morning and hiked up the mountain, across the top of many mountains, and all over this one very steep canyon. We were sitting on the mountain side looking through the binoculars and we spotted a nice three point, then Mike spotted a really nice buck just to the side of it, I shot 5 times hitting it in the gut and the leg, Mike was a little disappointed in me, but in my defense I have only shot 5 bullets out of a rifle and they were all at a box that wasn't moving. The deer took of running and we followed it, when we got to where it was when I shot it we found blood, so I knew I had hit it for sure, then we heard a gun shot and Mikes Uncle Paul got on the radio, and said he just got a big one, Mike and I knew he had just shot the buck we were following. When we got to where they were, sure enough it was the one, and it had my bullet holes on it. But I was glad Paul was able to get it. A few minutes after we got over there a couple bucks ran across the hill by us and after some more shots I got this one, not bad for a first deer, but I think Mike is going to make me practice more before we go out next time.
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The one that
got away!
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