I leaned back into the cover of another small tree, shielding myself from the biting winter wind, and started to imagine myself becoming a man. At only twelve years of age, becoming a man was a difficult concept to grasp. I was silent, motionless, as I envisioned myself a proud man, standing tall, harmonious with nature. As time approached for the hunt to begin, I found myself focused less and less on the hunt. Random thoughts swarmed my mind as I tried to stay focused on the task at hand. I thought about my friends at home, the warmth of my bed, and of making my father proud. I mostly thought about what it would be like to kill, but I quickly pushed this thought out of my mind because kill is exactly what I was expected to do that day. Uncertainty filled my mind with negative thoughts. I began thinking about the numerous advantages I had over my prey and about the nature of the sport. The thought of killing a deer, which seemed so similar to a tamed pet, was difficult for me to appreciate at such a young age.
I silently pulled a slug from the chest pocket of my vest and broke the barrel of the single shot shotgun. I inserted the slug carefully, almost regretfully, and snapped the barrel back into place. I took a piece of jerky out of my pocket and began to chew, anything to keep my mind occupied. The meat tasted so good that my mind took over again, back to the stories I was told about the sweet taste of venison. I would get to taste it tomorrow, I told myself, but only because I was going to kill today. I waited patiently as the entire ordeal played out exactly as planned. I could visualize the entire hunt and I imagined how it would end. My uncle, father, and a family friend were going to drop me off at my position and circle around the patch of timber to the south. My orders were to stand point and wait for the drive to begin. The three men drove the timber in an attempt to spook the deer. All I had to do was take the shot and not miss. The concept seemed so simple, but it worked. In no more than fifteen minutes I could hear my father walking through the thick timber. My entire body stiffened. My eyes danced from one area of the timber to another area of the bean field and back again. My eyes were constantly moving in an effort to detect even the minutest movements. My ears turned slightly to the field in an attempt to detect even the most insignificant noises. A thicket rumbled and my eyes quickly fell on the area. The few muscles in my scrawny body became hard and my hands started to perspire in the cool winter morning. My mouth suddenly went dry and my tongue felt stuck in the back of my throat. It became extremely difficult to stand still, and I shifted positions repeatedly. Eventually, I ended up in the perfect shooting position, just like I had learned from a hunter’s education course I attended with my father. I leaned up against the tree, back braced for the impact of the shot. At only twelve years old and being of a slight build, the recoil of the gun constantly caused me to shoot high, and I wanted to make every effort to ensure a first-rate shot. I bent my left knee upward and my left elbow rested on it. I extended my right leg straight out for comfort and positioned both of my arms on the shotgun in perfect form.
Over the slope of the bean field wandered a yearling doe. The poor animal seemed so bewildered, perhaps separated from its mother and confused from the situation. The puzzled animal stumbled over the small hill of the bean field, and I prepared to take my shot. I positioned my right index finger on the trigger and calmly squeezed. The blast seemed to echo in my ears forever as the recoil stung into my shoulder. The gunpowder burned into my eyes and nose leaving a lasting impression that remains with me to this day. My body trembled so violently I was unable to break the barrel of the single shot shotgun for a few moments. Eventually, I regained my composure and gently ejected the spent casing. Steam soared from the warm shell as it landed on the frozen winter ground. I deliberately grasped another slug from the chest pocket of my vest and inserted it into the shotgun. I mechanically took aim at my prey for another shot. The deer, spun around by the impact of the first shot, was now struggling to stand. I took one more shot and it was over.
I took a moment to gather myself before attempting to stand. The violent shaking I had experienced earlier returned to my entire body and robbed me of any strength I had possessed prior to this encounter. The doe struggled for life as I hesitantly approached the squirming corpse. Sorrow filled my entire body as I gazed into her innocent brown eyes. This meeting was far less glorious than what I had first envisioned. I was a man now, however; not because I had killed an innocent deer, but because I realized the power one has in life. That moment forced me to realize the unlimited power one man possesses. This experience taught me that if one man had the power to take a life, then that same man had the power to accomplish anything the world could offer.
