The Hunt for Pickett
Nothing beats the feeling—your heart full of hope and anticipation, your senses already working overtime—of sneaking into the whitetail woods in the dark-dark. Electricity and flashlights have made us such strangers to darkness that it takes an act of will not to push that button and destroy the night. But the less light you use, the less you disturb the woods. The best is when there's just enough light from the moon and stars to follow a path. There are other advantages to operating in the dark. One is that reduced vision makes your ears work that much harder. The biggest, however, is that darkness forces you to do something that animals do constantly and that humans almost never do in daily life, which is to move as though you have all the time in the world.
As the Lone Biped of the Forest, your normal cadence—even if you're walking in slow motion and pausing every few steps—is the woods' equivalent of a fire truck's
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I sat in the basswoods again the next morning, but I knew he wouldn't show. Deer seem to shun those hardwoods in bad weather. I sat a field edge in the evening, in a maybe-I'll-get-lucky stand that produced a lonely button buck. Tomorrow would be my last shot, and the weather forecast was little improved.The morning barely dawned, the sky only shifting from black to gray. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but as I settled into the basswoods again, I knew I was just marking time. Then I remembered my second encounter with him, the morning he ignored my grunt call and beelined to the ridge top bedding area. I gathered my gear and scrambled down the tree.The hike was steep and tangled but wet; the ground and even the brambles that tore at my clothes made no sound. Topping the ridge, I dumped my pack and shed every piece of nonessential clothing, as well as my boots. Down to a ball cap, shirt, camo pants, and wool socks, I grabbed my compound bow and started
From the day, the first European set foot on American soil up until the ratification of the Thirteenth Amendment, which occurred in 1865. Slavery was a controversial issue. The issue of slavery divided up the United States of America to ultimately put the two against each other. The Northern States who identifies themselves as the Union disapproved of the atrocious actions of the South who condone the crude treatment of slaves and the disturbing practices of slavery. Although slavery was not the sole cause of the Civil war, it played an important part in the disunion of the United States. The battle between states rights and federal rights rubbed more salt in the already enormous wound. Southern States who later considers themselves the confederates disapproved of the idea that the available actions of the states to act upon certain situations were dwindling, reducing the power and rights of the states. The set up of all these complications and disagreements led to the secession of the southern states which initiated the start of the brutal American Civil War which lasted from 1861 to 1865.
In Joseph Plumb Martin’s account of his experiences in the Revolutionary War he offers unique insight into the perspective of a regular soldier, which differs from the views of generals and leaders such as popular characters like George Washington. Martin’s narrative is an asset to historical scholarship as a primary source that gives an in-depth look at how life in the army was for many young men during the War for Independence. He described the tremendous suffering he experienced like starvation and privation. He did not shy away from describing his criticism of the government who he believes did not adequately care for the soldiers during and after the war. While he may be biased because of his personal involvement as a soldier, he seems to relate accounts that are plausible without embellishment or self-aggrandizement. Overall, “A Narrative of A Revolutionary Soldier” is a rich source of information providing an overview of military experience during the war.
...sed the cross hairs on its chest and took a shot. The deer jumped straight up in the air and then started running right at me. I racked another shell in the chamber. At less than ten yards I took another shot. This time the deer did two somersaults and landed about seven feet from me. Excited I got up to take a look, the deer was definitely dead. He laid there on the ground in front of me with the nerves in his massive body still twitching. He was a nice ten point, this really made me happy because he was bigger than my brothers. My first shot had hit him in that shoulder, because I was probably shaking when I shot and this threw my shot off. My second shot went threw the neck and into the chest. After sitting and enjoying the moment I gutted him and drug him up to the house. This last season turned out to be my best ever because I was persistent and never gave up.
It's three o'clock in the morning. I've been sleeping since eight p.m., and now my alarm clock is telling me that it's time to wake up. Most people are sleeping at this hour of the night, but I'm just now waking up to pack up my gear and head into the forest for the morning. Last night I packed my .30-06, tree stand, a small cooler full of food and a rucksack full of hunting equipment including deer scent, camouflage paint and a flashlight. I've been planning a hunt for two weeks, and the weekend has finally come. I get up from bed, shake off the cold of the morning and get ready to leave by four.
As we knocked our arrow in the bow we strolled into the woods as quiet as a mouse. Kevin showed me where the stand was and i went into game mode. I climbed in the stand and i started to look around. Less than 30 minutes a 4 pointer came at 23 yards but since it was small i let him walk. I had about 10 minutes of light left and it has been 2 hours since i seen him. Crashhhhh. A doe was at 20 yards. I drew back and looked threw the sites. I seen that she had no idea i was there and i felt bad if i would have taken her life. I diss drawn and let the doe walk.
Thesis: The war overseas, but there are millions of veterans still fighting the war at home.
On a cloudless September afternoon, a hunter stands with a defeated look upon his face. He sighs in disappointment as he watches a bull run through the aspens. He is still shaking in excitement and frustration. He did everything he could, but the bull didn't live that long by being stupid. I had never had that type of rush before, even though I had been defeated I was hooked on bow hunting.
First, the attitude of the speaker’s father creates a contrast with other hunter’s behaviours during hunting. When the speaker goes hunting with his father, his father often adopts the technique of “[sitting] silently, motionless and endlessly patient, waiting for deer to come down the paths” (2). They sit this way for hours and are usually rewarded because “there was always an abundance of less patient hunters … noisily crashing about, keeping the deer more or less constantly on the move” (2). The sound of
It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s a teacher? It’s Turner DeVore in fact, and no he wasn’t actually flying around in the air like Superman. That would have been impossible. Now I don’t know if I would exactly call Turner my hero, but he certainly has done a lot for me and the other kids on the Central Decatur baseball team.
At the beginning of the civil war there was a lot of pride upon both the north and the south. Many young men signed up for the army and were told of the great pride there would be on the battlefield. While there were not enough volunteers to build an army for the north, they were forced to draft young men to fight. White men represented the primary source of recruits, and men in all states resented the draft, which had been imposed in an amended fashion in the North. States were given quotas, and had to do what they could to fill them, including paying bonuses (“Soldier Life during the War”).
One foggy, dark, silent night I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard someone talking outside. I looked outside and saw my mom and dad talking to what looked like a general. It sounds like a stereotype about southern people but, during the war, many of the soldiers fighting for the confederacy did not have shoes, as most of the shoe factories were in the North(“The Battle of Gettysburg, 1863”) The general made his way inside not caring for mom and dad and expressed to me “ Hello Noah I’m General Stockton of the North and you need to come with me and serve in the army.”
I was nearly finished with my cigarette when behind me I heard the sound of something moving through the grass. I quickly but quietly extinguished my cigarette in the palm of my gloved hand and turned around. My eyes scanned to see exactly where the sounds had come from, and I only hoped that the smell of my cigarette hadn't spooked whatever was walking behind me. After about ten seconds I saw the ears of a deer sticking up above the tall grass about thirty yards from me. I slowly reached to my right to remove my bow from a hook in the tree. The deer was now moving towards me through the long grass, and behind it was another deer. I knew that the rut (the peak mating season) was well under way and this second deer may be a buck. After what seemed like an eternity the second deer came into view. It was a buck, as I had thought, but it was bigger than any deer I had ever seen.
...the wood for movement, looking for the slightest movement that will indicate the presence of some animal, maybe a deer walking through the woods feeding, or maybe a squirrel on its never-ending hunt for food. At 8:45 I get up and walk to my brother; the cold weather has found its way into my body through my many layers of clothes. I walk ever so silently hoping to find a deer over the hill, or in some alders eating. I see nothing but when I get to my brother he tells me I pushed five deer right past him.
It was a cold night in January, when he awoke covered in snow, his board broken and hanging from his left foot, the binding from his right still securely strapped to hit now numb, right foot It was now nearing Zero degrees Fahrenheit he thought, and not a soul was anywhere to be found. Zane Farrell had last seen another creature what he guessed was about six hours ago. As far as he knew he was about thirty miles north of Bull Creek, at the local ski area- Bull Mountain.
Walking through the woods never fails to clear my mind. After spending all day sitting in a stale classroom, filled with stress, confusion, and overwhelming responsibilities, taking a long stroll through the familiar woods behind my grandmother’s house lifts any worries that could ever weigh me down. I never wander through aimlessly. I always follow the trail of grass that has been deliberately cut down shorter than the rest, making it easier to tread through to the small creek at the end of the trail. The entire journey through the woods behind my grandmother’s house, there and back, first took on a whole new importance in my life during my junior year of high school.