Since the day I turned six years old I have been in love with the sport of hunting. My love for hunting started when my dad took me with him for the first time when I was five. As we sat in the cold, dark forest, my young mind could not be any more excited as I took in the sights, smells and sounds the forest offered to me. That particular hunt we did not get lucky enough to harvest a deer, probably due to the fact that I could not keep still, but I did not care I loved the placidity the forest provided to a hunter. Hunting had become a major part of my life and I did not even have my license yet.
When I turned six my dad decided I was old enough to take the assessment. I was thrilled and three long days later I was a licensed hunter. Every year my dad’s friend, Tom, from Columbus would come down to Oak Hill and hunt with us all week during the deer season. I was not allowed to go everywhere Tom and my father did until I was older but just being around them at the house was very entertaining to me. The night before my first hunt was sleepless, we were going to be bow hunting out of a tree stand my dad had set up for us. The times we had before a hunt only further added to the growing passion I had developed for hunting.
I awoke early the next morning so excited I was practically shaking. We put on our thick hunting clothes and made our way to the stand we would be hunting from. Me and my father quickly ascended the twelve-foot ladder stand and began our wait. I sat in the