When I was 13 years old, I was hunting alone, me on a cold, fall morning in the back field of my grandpa’s land when this big 12 point buck come out of the corner of the field. I got my gun up ready to shoot, but when I was about to pull the trigger, a big wolverine came out from behind me and hits me in the head. It knocked me out cold for about ten minutes. When I woke up, I was all torn up. I had an 8 inch gash on the side of my head and a couple of scars and cuts on my legs. I had a CB radio, so I called up my dad, and told him what had happened. He told me to drive to the house with the truck so I did. When I got there, he was waiting and we took off to the hospital.

I had 26 stitches and 9 staples; it hurt a little bit, but not much. The worst was getting the rabies shots. The rabies shots were the worst because I had to go to the hospital every week for five weeks; it was so boring. The doctor said I was lucky that it didn’t kill me and I agreed.

After I was better and healed, I went hunting again. I was sitting at the same field. An hour after I sat there, the same exact wolverine that attacked me walked out. I was all pumped because I hated it and wanted to kill it. I watched it for a while and watched what it did.

About five minutes later, I was bored, so I shot and killed it, then I killed it I brought it back to the house and showed my dad. He didn’t like it because it had caused a lot of bills, so he went to the taxidermist and had it stuffed. I don’t have the stuffed animal because I sold it, but I will never forget what it looked like.