Monday, October 17, 9:10 PM. Garrett.

I shot a deer today.

Dad and I took Trevor out hunting. I did all the driving. Dad says I still need to practice a couple more months before he lets me drive on my own, but I’m doing pretty good. I haven’t hit anything in like a month, and the last thing was a mailbox that was leaning out into the road. Anybody could’ve hit that.

We went to the deer stand out on Montgomery Road where the camera had spotted some. We got there about five in the morning and waited for sunrise. That’s when they like to eat. It wasn’t too cold, maybe 50°. I was plenty warm in my coat and hat but Trevor didn’t wear enough and his teeth chattered. We waited a long time but never saw anything.

After that we checked some of the other feeders. All of them have tracks around. We saw hog tracks and deer and squirrels and lots of bird tracks. Trevor shot at a bird in the trees but he missed it.

Then we went to the deer stand out by the high school football stadium. It’s right in town, the deer never would’ve come there before, but we had seen them on the camera. We waited. The day had warmed up and it felt perfect.

About noon we were sitting there eating our sandwiches. Dad had just said he hoped we were still downwind. That’s when we saw them. There were four does and two bucks. They came slowly across the field, looking around, sniffing the ground, flicking their tails. Dad whispered to Trevor just to watch. He asked me if I wanted to take the shot. The buck in front had more antlers than the other. I aimed at the one in front.

They came toward the feeder, and he was sideways to me about 20 yards away. I kept thinking they would see us. I remembered from the magazines where you’re supposed to hit them. My heart was pounding and I wasn’t sure I could do it. I had the crosshairs on his chest right behind his front leg. I held my breath. I counted my heartbeats in my head like I’d practiced: “1 - SHOT - 2 - SHOT - 3 - SHOT”. Suddenly everything was lined up. Almost before I knew it the gun went off.

At first I thought I’d missed. All the deer scattered. The buck ran straight ahead for everything he was worth. But there was something strange about the way he moved. It was almost like he was swimming. He leapt off the ground with his back feet only, like his front feet were just along for the ride. His head was dropping closer to the ground, like a plane about to crash. Suddenly he plowed into the grass. His horns caught hold and he skidded on his side. He lay there kicking.

Dad said quietly, “You got him.” We got out of the stand. I was trembling. I felt kind of sick. We walked across the field. Nobody said anything. He was still kicking, but slower.

When we got to him, it was like he was looking at us. His back leg slowly drooped. He breathed out. We stood there, waiting. He didn’t move again. It had all taken maybe twenty seconds.

Trevor clapped his hands and shouted, “You got him! You got him! One shot!” I felt like crying. Dad put his hand on my shoulder.

He pushed the deer with his foot. No movement.

Trevor touched the horns. He counted them. “Eight points! That means he’s eight years old!”

“More like four,” Dad said.

After that we dressed him. We had brought a book with us to remind us how to do it. It took a long time. We all took turns. Dad wanted to make sure we all knew how to do it. It was kind of gross but I’m getting more used to it because of the squirrels and rabbits we’ve killed.

We got him home and butchered him. We wrapped up the meat, ground some of it, and put it in the freezer. Dad says it’s enough to feed us for months. I felt pretty good about that. The Almanac shows how to dry some for jerky, so we’re going to try that.