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He grasped the trigger, and shot. ‘’Bang,‘‘ the bullet exploded with power right out of the gun. Jamie looked up to find his trophy buck, but he could not see it. Although he knew to wait fifteen minutes, his eagerness took over and Jamie left his spot. Being cautious to make as little sound as possible, he dashed over to find the spot where he shot the buck. The buck was nowhere to be seen, but something else important was there.
The theme of "Hunter Safety" by Jeff Johnson is to not be conceited and over-exaggerate your abilities. " Plus, I 'm a good shot... Give me the trophy now..." "Dad says, his voice rising in tone, "missed him by a mile! ' " First, these quotes show that the narrator thinks he is an amazing hunter, but in reality, he 's average or below. "
Through the light that his flashlight cast he could make out a man walking through the forest up ahead. He raised the gun to his shoulder and took a shot. He heard a grunt and the man fell
Rat went to automatic. He shot randomly, almost casually, quick little spurts in the belly and butt. Then he reloaded, squatted down, and shot it in the left front knee. Again the animal fell hard and tried to get up, but this time it couldn't quite make it... All the while the baby buffalo was silent, or almost silent, just a light bubbling sound where the nose had been.
Recently Owen Aerts has been hunting. Owen had shot a 6 point buck. He went hunting to manage the deer population in Lakewood Wisconsin where there was a lot of deer hunters out in the woods on that day ,but Owen got a buck. A lot of people just went out in the woods and sat next to a tree.
After about two hours of curiously watching my dad chasing two bucks around with a decoy, his buddy James texted us that there was a ginormous buck on his property. We scurried back to the truck and my dad, anticipating the odds of the buck still there, rushed us to James’ property about two miles away. We arrived just in the knick of time, as we spotted the herd of antelope grazing in the corner of his alfalfa field. Right away my dad located the buck we had been hunting the
Cole grabs his shotgun and settles the sight on the shoulder and as he squeezes the trigger a click , Cole for got to chamber a shell. With a quick movement cole jacks a shell into the chamber. The buck stops and stares into Cole’s eyes and bolts Cole put the barrel out the Window of the blind and gets on the deer and with a loud meah stops the deer to a trot and Cole takes a breath and pow! As the smoke cleared Cole scanned the wood edge for any sign of the deer when his eye come across brown Cole picked up his head and there standing in the field staring back at him is the 12 pointer that has eluded Cole all season. Not knowing if he hit the buck there is nothing Cole could do besides watch the giant buck.
Walking through the woods on a peaceful, fall day, I stumble onto a herd of cotton tails. BANG! THUD! Dinner is served. Hunting has been argued to not be the best method practiced for controlling whitetail deer populations.
The preparation starts to pay off as the season approaches; the preparation, the anxiety, and the chills of knowing what is coming starts to get to me. As the night of September 30th rolls around, my heart races as if the next day is Christmas. The next day is October 1st, which means bow hunting season is starting. I go to my special place where I sit 18 feet up in a tree and wait for the sun to rise. All the offseason work and determination is about to prove as if it worked or not.
The White Man’s Burden: As Kipling sardonically claimed, it was the self avowed burden of the White man to civilize the brown and the black races. The average British officer and administrator lived by the theory of Social Darwinism. Indians were little better than wild beasts and the only way to rule them was to abandon the paternal methods of the company and rule them henceforward with a rod of iron. (Chand, 479) With this mission in mind, the British gave many gifts of western civilization to India.
After the 5 minutes me and my dad followed the blood trail down to where the deer was and sure enough the deer was laying right there in front of our eyes. It was a 6 point with a big body and it was so pretty. At this point and time me and my dad were still shaking. Of course we had to take a picture so I grabbed the deer's antlers and held them with pride. My dad was so proud of me, I was about the same age he was when he killed his first deer too.
The Hunt It was a gloomy September day and the bear hunting season was about to begin. The old farm truck was loaded full with barrels of cooking grease, assorted candy, birdseed and tubes of sticky frosting. We were to hunt four hours north in a little town called Orr, Minnesota. My family had an 80 acre lot that we used strictly for hunting. My mom volunteered to sit in the stand with me and videotape the hunt.
So, I kept waiting, then finally my uncle, who was sitting to my left nudged me and pointed to the far corner of the field. There I saw two deer, a very large buck, and what seemed to be a doe, they were about 150 yards out. Instantly my heart began to beat so fast I thought it was going to burst through my rib cage! I drew my gun and rested on my uncle’s shoulder. “Shot the doe first, then if the buck stays you can shot him too,” my uncle whispered.
Hopefully they 'll make it, but all Jamie knew for sure he will give that buck one more chance. The safety clicked and frightened the gorgeous deer. The young deer disappear into the prickly underbrush. Jamie lets out a heavy breath and shuffles towards the house. The warm yellow light guides him home as the wind bites through his coat.
