I never expected a chilly Saturday morning in the woods would change my life forever, and turn me into a lifelong outdoorsman. This great experience was the day I was lucky enough to harvest my first whitetail deer. I was 13 years old and it was my second year of hunting. My Uncle Brock was with me on this hunt because I was still a junior hunter, and I needed the supervision of an adult. It was an early morning hunt, and I didn't have very much time. I had to go work on a Christmas tree farm where I was employed. Nine o'clock was the latest I could be in the woods. The date was December 2nd, 2006, and it was a chilly morning. The thermometer peaked at about 35 degrees Fahrenheit. .
I woke up about two hours before sunrise. I had slept at my uncle's house the evening before, so he could make the short drive over to the hunting spot. After awakening, I began to put on layer after layer of insulating clothing. I knew that on a morning like these lots was needed. Finally I put on my outer layers of camouflage, most of which had been handed down to me from my uncle. We made the short drive to the family friend's house where we would be hunting that morning. .
When we got there, we made sure that everything was prepared for the hunt, and that we didn't forget anything important like hunting licenses or ammunition. I proceeded to then load up my rifle. This wasn't just an ordinary rifle to me, it meant something. It was a Winchester Model 1894 lever action chambered in .30-30. It was the rifle used by my uncle to kill his first deer. Now it was my turn to carry on the tradition. My uncle and I walked through their back yard behind their house to a wooded hollow. We found our way to the spot even though it was still very dark. We sat under a tall tree that provided us with sufficient cover. It was on a very steep embankment which led down to a creek. On the other side of the creek was a low laying area filled with brush and old logging roads that ran alongside other hills.
