It was mid-November, upstate New York.  Four in the morning, it’s pitch black.  Everything is frozen and still, even the crickets are silent.  We all gear up and get ready for the hunt.  We put on our suits and many layers underneath.  

We all get in the truck and drive the short way to the entrance to the woods by an open field of corn.  The leaves shattered beneath our feet.  We walked single file through the marshy path to the woods.  Our boots were sinking in the mud.  We hiked, step by step up the rocky hillside.  We can hear a stream in the distance but can see nothing in the darkness.  We climb over the fallen trees and through the brush and make it to the stream.  We continued up the trail to the fork, we split up and continued. 

We hiked as quietly as possible and followed the overgrown trail to the tree stand.  My father and I climb into the tree, step by step.  The bars were full of ice and dead vines.  We sit quietly, listening, he tells me to stay quiet and listen.  We can hear the owls hooting and can feel them watching.  The coyotes howling and hunting their prey.  We hear leaves crunching nearby, we sit still and listen.  They grow closer and closer, then fade away.   We then hear it again, I look out into the forest scanning for what's making the noise.  We then realize it is a squirrel burying his food for the winter.  So we wait and wait in silence patiently until sunrise.  

As the sun rises we can feel the warmth against our bodies.  The forest becomes more alive.  More animals were roaming but not the one we were looking for.  Birds and squirrels scurry around the melting floor, in search of food.  We see some of the coyotes we saw earlier pass underneath the stand.  Suddenly we hear the gobble of turkeys behind us.  They pass underneath us and sense our presence.  They walk off in the direction they came.  

Soon enough the sun has fully risen and it's time to leave.  We get down, trying not to disturb anything around us.  We follow the path down to the fork and meet with the others.  We hike down back to the creak and cross the stream which was flowing more now that the sun has melted the ice.  The marsh was more flooded than when we came.  We get back in the truck and drive back to the cabin.  

We put on more comfortable clothes and talk about our hunts and relax.  Even though we were not successful in our hunts we still get to enjoy sitting in nature and watching what happens outside of civilization.  We sit outside in the fresh clean air.  The air up in the middle of nowhere is different from the air we breathe here.  It makes you feel tired and relaxed.  The world is quiet out there, you hear nothing but the birds and the swaying trees.  We all have something to eat and start packing up for the trip home.  It takes about two hours to get back and the roads are baron and empty.  

I sleep most of the way home.  I talked to my dad about our hunt and how we didn't see any deer.  He told me “the most important thing was experiencing what hunting is like and if you like it so that when the time comes and you do see a deer you will know what to do”. I realized it's not about the “thrill” of the hunt all the time.  It’s about spending time with family and friends and learning in the process.  I learned a lot about how to hunt, the family I was with, and why we went on the hunt in the first place.  The best part was talking about past hunts that were had before I came along, and the fun and happy stories they all had to tell.  I realized that the result isn't always the most important part, it's the process of getting there that counts.