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Poetry in Motion

Hunter Anderson

Young Pennsylvania huntress lives up to name

Story and Poem by Hunter Elisabeth Anderson

The story about my first deer hunt really started Christmas of 2008 when my parents got me my first gun, a .22 caliber Cricket. 

My dad, Rich, and I started shooting at our sportsmen club and I got better each time.

For years, I kept shooting my .22, but in 2012 I wanted to shoot a bigger gun.

While I was away visiting my grandparents that summer, Dad bought me a .243 rifle. I practiced regularly with it until I was good at shooting a deer target at 100 yards.

On a Friday afternoon in mid-October, I got out of school early. My father and I drove 150 miles from Palmyra, Pennsylvania to our property in Susquehanna County where we'd be hunting the early Youth Antlerless Season.

A friend of our family already had a stand prepared for us. It overlooked a clover field where our friend had been seeing deer.

While Dad and I waited several hours in the blind for the deer to show up, we quietly played movie trivia, Guess the Number and we whittled sharp points on sticks to pass the time. 

Around 5 p.m., while Dad was whittling a miniature canoe for me, we looked up and saw three does coming into the clover field.

I slowly set my .243 on the shooting sticks while my father ranged them at 82 yards.

We waited until the deer separated from each other so I could make a clean shot.

When they were far enough apart, Dad said, "Shoot when you're ready."

I looked through my scope and got it lined up on a doe.

The rifle went CRACK, and the doe went down right where she was standing!

I was amazed at what I had just done. My father and I shared a quick hug and he said, "Great shot!"

We walked over to the doe, checked to make sure she was dead, then took some photos.

A thunderstorm moved in fast, and before we could get away, we got rained on pretty badly.

Hunting Stories Wanted!The storm quit as quickly as it had started, then we saw the brightest double rainbow right behind us. It was very beautiful!

My father field dressed the doe while I watched, and then we filled out the deer tag and attached it to the doe. 

We walked to get the truck and were able to drive it most of the way to the deer in the field. 

Dad loaded up the doe just in time, because a second storm arrived just as we were getting back into the truck. Then we headed to my grandparent's house 15 miles away.

We arrived just before dark and were able to show my grandparents my first deer. Grandpa was so happy for me and proud of the good shot I'd made.

I had great time hunting with my father that day, and I was able to live up to my name, Hunter.

Editor's Note: Not only is a Hunter Anderson a wonderful writer of hunting stories, she's also a very talented poet. Please enjoy "Hunting Season Ode."

Hunting Season Ode
By Hunter Elisabeth Anderson

Hunting season is really cool,
Especially when you get off from school.

Before you go, you get your gear,
And go off to shoot some deer.

You load the bullet in the gun,
then get ready to have some fun.

Then up comes that 10-point rack,
Who is looking to go back.

You really can't beat
the delicious deer meat.

My dad can hunt with the best,
And he's better than all the rest.

And I do not like to boast,
but my Mom makes the best deer roast.

In the distance, we just heard a loud CRACK!
That means someone just took down a big rack.

The buck fell right where he stood,
On a few pieces of rotted wood.

Everyone attaches their deer tags,
Then they begin the long, long drags.

When they finally make it to their trucks,
They celebrate; they got their buck.

They take it to the butcher shops,
where deer get made into venison chops.

But hunting season is soon gone,
and hunters put away their guns.

They can't wait until next season,
And hunting deer, that's the big reason.

Hunting season is really cool,
especially when you get off from school.

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