Surrounded by maples, pines, and oaks our plywood deer stand shudders in the wind. Shivers run through my body each time I look around knowing that I might shoot my first buck this year, in this exact place. I finally reach the stand. My cold fingers tightly grip my camo .243 caliber rifle. My arm hooks through the strap that holds the gun. I begin to ascend. When I reach the top rung, I open the white swinging door that has a slight creak. My pale hand holds it open as my dad enters. We both take our spots on our three legged stools and open up all the windows so when the deer come, we are ready to shoot. Four copper bullets slide into my gun as I load it and then place it in its spot in the corner. I slide off my backpack and quietly lay it on the floor. The only noise is the slight sounds squirrels make when they are playing in the trees. They chase each other up and down the tree. I check my watch, 6:00 A.M. We arrived here early so the deer won’t be scared by our noise when the sun rises. I know that sunrise isn’t until at least 7:30, so I nod off.
My head sways, I have just woken up to the gentle nudge from my dad. I roll my sleeve up and check my watch, 7:36, right on time. I check my surroundings. Straight out of the stand one big oak tree about 50 yards away
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It feels like an eternity since the fawns decided to leave, and not a sound since. My chances are fading fast. I am tired and cold, but hopeful. I am hopeful that a buck of any size walks into range. Crack! The snap of a dead branch beneath the legs of the white-tail buck. I see it, trotting through the autumn leaves like a king to the left of my stand. He hides right behind the wall of pines. I grip my fingers around the cold metal barrel of my rifle. It swings around and I grab the stock. The barrel slowly slides out the window as I take aim. I know that any shot I take right now will be utterly destroyed by the pines. So, I