The Rifle that I chose means a lot to me because it was the one with which I shot my first deer. When I was younger I loved animals and over time I wanted to hunt. I contacted one of my moms friends who hunted and he was willing to take me hunting.  We organized a time where we would go up to their cabin and hunt. That morning we got up so early that the birds were not singing. There was no noise in the woods except for us tromping around. The sky was dark and every shape looked ominous. When we arrived at the stand the wind had started to whisper through the trees making it feel very cold.  We waited in the stand for a couple of minutes then the light started to seep through the leaves making the forest look alive with the colors of red and green. The early morning dew made every thing feel very wet. You could smell the earthy scent of wet grass and dirt making it seem like it had just rained. Then after a while a deer showed up. I waited for a bit then I aimed and pulled the trigger. The smell of gun powder filled my nose. The deer looked like it had turned to stone as the bullet hit. We dragged the deer back to the cabin. Then we hung the deer up in a tree and started to skin it. We started to cut the deer into pieces that we could handle better. In total the amount of meat we got of the deer was around 40 pounds. I was the first person in a long time in my family to hunt. The last time they did was my family from Norway after they had emigrated from Norway to the U.S.

– Peter S

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