I started hunting when I was twelve years old. My dad, my uncle, and my grandpa used to go hunting together when I was little. My dad stopped hunting when I was seven years old, so I never got to go hunting with my dad. I have always gone with my grandpa and uncle. My grandpa was the one who taught me how to hunt; he was the first person to take me hunting. He even gave me his old bow and arrows.

The first day we went hunting together, I had to sneak up on a doe and try to get a shot at it. I was about twenty yards away. i waited for ten minutes so I could get a vital shot, pulled my bow back, and took a few minutes to get a chance to shoot.

I was so nervous about missing that I was shaking, and I ended up shooting the log right under the deer. My arrow was stuck in the log, so I waited for my grandpa to catch up with me so we could get it out. My granpda tried using his knife, but he ended up breaking the blade in the log. The arrow and the knife blade are still in the log today.

The log is half-rotted now, but the arrow and knife blade are still in it. My grandfather and I still go hunting there. We have been hunting there for almost eight years now. Every time I see the arrow in the log, it reminds me of my first experience trying to shoot a deer and the great time I had with my grandfather.