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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #1613417
This is something that I have never experienced yet but I hope to this year.
Slowly and quietly,
through bushes,
post trees,
the hunter peers.
Sitting low or staying flat,
we must wait to hatch.

Here is the one true moment,
the moment of adrenaline.
The buck doesn't see you,
but you see it.
Your down low,
waiting, anticipating, the kill.

The buck is in the perfect pose,
as if he were getting his picture taken.
You bring the gun up,
you steady your trembling hand,
aim the gun,
one more steady breath,
on the exhale you slowly squeeze the trigger.

The gun fires,
right in your ears,
all you hear is ringing.
Slowly you look at were the buck had been,
there in it's place,
a dead body.
This is your first deer,
to top that all of it's a buck.

You get up next to it,
first making sure it's dead.
You look down at it,
it has 10 points.
A ten-point buck,
a prized kill,
one you wont forget.

You get it ready,
gut it out,
tie it to your vehicle,
your ready for the long drive home,
but it's worth it,
you have with you a great hunting story,
the horns,
body,
meat,
and all to prove it's all true.
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