Success is Mine

In November of 2014 my Dad begged me to write an essay/short story for a chance to win a guided antelope hunt.  I really didn't want to write it, not because of the writing part--for writing is my thing, if you get my meaning--but because I thought that the hunt wouldn't be fun, and that was if I even won.  I actually despised having to write and enter such a contest. 
 
But...
 
It was like the day or two before the deadline and I tossed my finished story before Dad, said, "There it is," and walked away.
Both of my parents read it and liked it, helped with the few grammar problems, and we got it sent just in time.
 
I had tried forgetting about the whole thing and figured I wouldn't hear anything more about it.  I know I'm a good writer, but I hadn't worked on the story very long.  It was a quick one to write.  But, after I had figured the contest was over and I hadn't won, we got a phone call.  "I'm pleased to say that Savannah won the contest!" 
 
I didn't know what to do.  I wasn't truly excited because I saw this as something Dad wanted, not me.  But I had won, thus I had something to look forward to: a banquet in March for the four contest winners (I was one of four winners) and the hunt.
 
Now here I was having to tell all of our friends and family about this contest which I had won.  Everyone was naturally excited for me, but I on the other hand was having a hard time acting or even looking excited about it. 
 
Well, I openly let our friends/family read my short story and sure enough, March made its way here.  Finally, the day came that I was to go to this banquet to get my award.  I was nervous like crazy, but I don't know why, as I sit here thinking about what little I had to do.  On Saturday, March 7th, our whole family made the four hour trip to Oklahoma City and went to the National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum, where the banquet was held.
 
Since I was one of the contest winners, my family and I were seated at one of the certain tables set aside for just the winners and their family.  That's something I've never been a part of, and it was kind of neat.
 
We looked around a bit, then began eating.  After the meal was wrapped up, the speaker got on the stage and we four winners were called up there with him.  The two winners from last year were also there and they accompanied us.
 
As the four of us very nervous teens stood before a sea of faces, we were each handed our plaques.  Here's mine.
 

 

Right after shaking hands and getting our awards, it was all over for the winners.  The four of us walked off the stage and resumed the night, only this time we were more ourselves.  The butterflies, though I never call it that, left and I know that I for one relaxed.
 
The boy winner of last year gave me an album in which I'm suppose to write another story of my hunt after that takes place.  Then, next year, I'll be passing this album to the next boy winner and so on.  So, guess where we'll be going next year!
 
This year there were 90,000 contest entries which really amazed all of us!
 
The hunt will take place sometime in Oct. of this year and will be in the Texas Panhandle.  Dad will be coming along, but only as an observer. 
 
I don't think it's right to just tell of the happenings and not let you read my story, so here it is.   

~



Hunting: Sharing the Heritage

Just what makes hunting a heritage my family enjoys?

My dad started hunting coyotes while he was still young and then moved on to bigger game. Now he has shot countless deer, bull and cow elk, bears, and the list continues. It's something he's really come to like.

He married a great shot—my mom—and she likes hunting as well. The first thing she shot was a deer and since then she's brought down many animals.

My dad's parents are amazing shooters as well. Both have shot snakes in their front yard and who knows what else. And now it's being passed to my younger siblings and me. Hunting runs in the family.

But why do we enjoy the heritage of hunting?

All the pretty mornings and evenings I've spent with Dad while waiting on deer have added up, but it's always good father/daughter time. One of my favorite hunts was in 2011 when I shot the first mule deer to ever be shot on our ranch. Here's the story...

I got up that foggy morning at 6:00 to hunt with Dad. After arriving at our spot, we sat down on a big hill to watch for any deer. And sat and sat. As it grew brighter we could see two does a ways off, but because of the area we were in, we couldn't shoot females anyway. So we naturally passed them up.

After sitting for some time, my uncle called my dad for their usual morning phone call. The conversation was quiet and frank, but then Dad knelt to peek behind us. All at once he said quietly, yet really excited, “There he is!” And my dad's flip-phone slapped shut, obviously ending the call.

Dad told me to get ready to shoot and since I was facing the opposite direction it wasn't as easy as pie. I was excited, of course, but calmed myself enough to get up a little and crawl around some brush so I could at least see the buck. In the process, I got tangled in a root and fell on to the sandy hill, but harmed nothing. It was kind of funny, though a little embarrassing.

I pulled myself from the ground and tried to get ready to shoot...but I couldn't.

I was shaking too much!

The buck was now attempting to walk away so I had to do something quick. He stopped, only to walk again. He kept up that walk and stop game for a while.

Dad whispered, “Are you ready?”

“I'm shaky,” I replied.

But thankfully, the buck finally came to a complete stop. All at once I pulled the trigger.

Had I hit him? Was he down? All these questions filled my head.

“You hit him!”

I watched in silence as the buck trotted away. But Dad was sure I had hit him...why was he running away? The world seemed quiet and made us double guess things. Maybe I hadn't hit him after all.

But then his back legs began spreading apart and he fell! I didn't miss after all!

Dad called my uncle back and told him the news while we walked to my dead deer. Upon approaching the deer, I looked down at a beautiful 5x4 mule deer buck. Both my dad and I were happy campers on the way to the house that morning.

The quiet mornings, peaceful evenings, migrating birds overhead, rustling grass, crickets, and the second of stillness before pulling the trigger, along side a loved one is what makes hunting a very enjoyable thing for our family.

Thus hunting is something that has indeed been passed down to new generations and is something that should continue. I'm thankful for my parents for letting us experience the outdoors in this way.

~

 
As I think about it, I'm really glad Dad begged and pleaded for me to write this story.  It has encouraged me to really believe that I can write something the world will read.  I think this is one step closer to my goal of becoming a published author one day.
 
So, thanks, Daddy.   I'm glad I wrote it, and I'm looking forward to the hunt. 
 
With free passes to the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, we five went to it on Sunday.  It was a nice trip, short, but pleasant and it was all possible because I used my talent from God.  : )