The sun hasn’t even risen yet. It is pitch black out and the only light to be seen for miles around is the light in the upstairs bedroom of the woman. The woman is getting ready for the first day of rifle. She grabs her granddads old wooden 30.06 and her daddy’s smaller replica that had been handed down to her when she was thirteen. The smaller gun had taken down many deer before her and when her daughter is old enough, she is sure that it will take down many more. The woman then looks at her granddads rifle. It tells many stories of kills and many long hunting trips taken by her granddad. She was the third generation to have that rifle and she would make sure it got passed on through the generations to come. She decides on taking her granddads rifle and heads out the front door in her camouflage.

The woman drives her green and white ford to the same place that she and her father used to hunt. It wasn’t anything special, but to her that spot meant more to her and any other spot she had ever hunted at. As she gets out of the truck, she recalls the first time she ever hunted in that spot. She had been thirteen and it was the first day of rifle in November. The snow and rain had been coming down and they had just gotten to the spot when her dad had been loading her shells for her same old small rifle that had once been his. Upon loading the gun he had realized a bullet had not been ejected out of the chamber that previous Sunday when they had been practicing. He had driven all the way home and jammed it out. The woman laughed now thinking how scared she had been when she thought that she wouldn’t be able to hunt that day. She ended up shooting her second doe of the season that day right before the last of the light. The woman remembers how dark it being and how she was afraid she would miss. But she didn’t.

Her dad had stopped that doe and she shot it right out of that homemade tree stand and between two huge oaks. The deer dropped right after the shot, but her dad had finished it off for her. The woman remembered seeing the huge grin on his face. She remembered how excited for her he had been. Of course that was years ago, but she doesn’t think that it’s something that’s forgettable. Nobody will ever understand how much the woman will ever miss her dad.

She walks the uphill path and around the thick nasty red brush, over that dang metal fence in the ground that she has been tripping on ever since she was twelve. The tree stand is still standing. Sure, she had to replace the ladder and boards and redo the floor, but she’s never had to tear it down. The woman would never have the heart to tear it down even if it came to that. Her father and she had spent so much time and hard work trying to get the stand up. She sighs thinking about how much harder hunting without her father gets.

She gets into the old wooden tree stand and sits on the white 5 gallon bucket and turns on the buddy heater her father had gotten her for her birthday the year previous. The woman remembers how excited her father was to bring it over to her house a road over. She hadn’t been expecting him to show up and was surprised to see him when he came walking in the front door with the gift under his arm. He had made her unwrap it right there because he just couldn’t wait to see her reaction. The woman remembered unwrapping it slowly and then when she finally unwrapped it, she had started to cry. She had been so happy and surprised; her emotions had just gone everywhere. She hugged her dad and kissed him on the cheek and told him how much she loved him. That was a memory that would always stay in her mind for as long as she will live.

It is an unusually warm day for November. It’s around 50 degrees out and she sweating like she ran a marathon. The woman has her wavy long blonde hair down, her long johns, a camouflage and black fleece over that, her hush hide hunting pants, and her dads old coat with the flap in the back to stick all her hunting materials in. She decides to take off her coat and unzip her fleece so that she won’t get too cold when her sweat dries. The woman has a feeling that today the deer will be moving and she might her chance to shoot the monster buck she has been scoping out since the beginning of April.

It’s about noon now and the woman has seen multiple doe and long beard turkeys. She is taking her chance and waiting for that buck. She knows that those doe could be the only thing she sees for the day, but something in her gut says to wait, that something better is coming. So, she listens to her gut and waits and waits. Even when she was a little girl she use to get bored waiting for the deer. Her father learned his lesson the first couple times they went out. She would complain and whine, while her father looked for deer. She would be too hot, too cold, or too tired. Her dad always gave her options; sit here and wait it out or call Grandma. She always stuck it out, and was always blessed with a kill. Her dad started to bring books and hunting magazines for her to read. When she was thirteen, she read the digest three times in one day! The woman still to this day continues the tradition of bringing the digest with her to read when she hunts.

It’s about four now and she has seen a buck that was illegal for her to shoot. She keeps looking and looking. A lonely doe comes running full speed through the red brush. She knows from experience that there could be a buck chasing her since they are in rut. She brings up her granddads old heavy 30.06 and flips the safety off. If he comes out, she is ready. As if on cue, a ten point walks out of the red brush and stops. The shot is about a 300 to a 350 yard shot. The farthest she has ever shot. The woman isn’t sure if she can make it, but it’s a chance she’s willing to take. She puts the cross hairs on the deer right behind the front shoulder. Deep breath. Here we go. She squeezes the trigger. The buck starts running and she ejects the shell. It’s slowing down and it hits a tree. She gets on it and pulls the trigger. This time, without a doubt, the deer drops. The woman climbs down the ladder and shakily walks the rest of the way to the monster buck. She has her fanny pack on with her rope, knife, tags, pen, gloves, and extra bullets. The deer isn’t breathing anymore. She takes out the knife that she got from her father the Christmas she was fourteen. She has never used another knife and she doesn’t plan on it. She grabs her gloves also, since she doesn’t like the blood. The woman takes the knife and cuts open the deer. She takes out all the guts and reaches in and cuts the heart and lungs out. She only cut herself doing this once and it was the first time she ever gutted a deer. She pulls out the heart and it’s still in great condition. She pulls out a baggy and puts the heart in so that later she can eat it. She pulls out the lungs and both lungs are shot. The woman shot right through both lungs. She empties out the blood and puts the rope around its neck and drags it out to her pick up.

She loads everything and takes it back to her old farm house. She unloads the deer out of the back and hangs in from the hanger in the garage. The woman is only twenty-five. This is the second hunting season without her father. Even after she got older and could hunt by herself, they still hunted the first day together. That’s what she misses the most. It can never be the same. To her, it won’t matter how many deer she shoots, it’s all about that she can never experience the thrill of hunting with her father the same way again. She’s positive he was with her today, and that he always is whenever she hunts. She won’t ever get used to the feeling of sitting in the truck alone on the way from a successful hunt and not sharing her excitement with her father.

And now, as the sun is setting, the woman sits on the porch of her father’s old farm house, she feels the arm of her dad draped around her back, as if to say I’m here. Always.