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Hunting

 https://cnr.ncsu.edu/news/wp-content/uploads/sites/10/2021/01/ncsu.cnr_.hunting.istock.featured-1024x576.jpg 

I hadn't always been a hunter. The idea just never appealed to me. That is until my father in law took me along one day during our annual hiking trip. 

I wasn't sold on the idea that day. The long quiet hours just sitting and waiting. The gunshot that nearly blew my eardrum. Or watching the deer die. 

But I guess you could say I caught the itch. I read up on it, bought a bow, and chose the track and find approach rather than sit and wait. I loved it. Nature was beautiful. I know hunting isn't easy for some. But you have to tell yourself that you're helping. Population control. It's important.

My last outing I was tracking a big buck, by the look of the prints, and after a day of hiking off-trail I found fresh prints headed toward a small stream. 

It was getting dark, and usually make camp round that time, but I figured I would check the stream first. 

As I made my way down a steep incline I heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps, coming from somewhere off to my right. 

"Strange" I whispered. 

Like all wooded areas, this one had some stories going around. The usual mutilated campers, axe welding lumberjacks, and of course, Bigfoot. I know these are just bullshit, but these are the thoughts that go through your head while walking through the woods near sundown. 

I heard footsteps again, and by the sound they were failing at an attempt to be silent. My heart rate picked up. 

I tried to tread quietly, picturing a huge hairy beast lumbering by the bank, drinking water like an overgrown dog. 

But as the stream came into view I only saw that gorgeous buck.  

I looked around, and smiled. My favorite part. 

When my arrow hit it's target, the beast screamed. I hustled down to it, watching as the buck ran off in the trees. The hunter had dropped his gun, and was gasping, looking down at the arrow through his chest. 

"You shot...me" he said, shocked. "Call someone" he moaned. 

I pulled another arrow and aimed at his eye, which grew with confusion then fear. 

"Are you nuts!" He yelled, choking on blood. 

"I'm a hunter." I said. I let the arrow go into his skull. I was never one to let things suffer, no matter how despicable they could be.  

The buck he was hunting watched me from the treeline, and I could of sworn it nodded in appreciation. I nodded back, and collected my arrows.

It's funny how just a few short years ago the very idea of taking a life appalled me. If it wasn't for my father in law I wouldn't have ever found my calling. I have him to thank him, and I would, if he were still alive.

I never did see a Bigfoot yet. But I suppose anything could happen. There are some scary creatures out there.  

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