It is October 14th; my sister's birthday. I wasn't there. Instead I was on my way to Idaho. It is my second year going on the family hunting trip. I've been waiting for this moment since last year, when I killed my first buck. I am with my brother Walker, my dad, and my grandpa. “Dude, this road is so bumpy,” says Walker. Everyone is tired and ready to go hunting. 

“Oh Wy, we're missing the Nascar race today,” says my grandpa. 

“I know Pa, I bet Joey Logano's got this one,” I reply. My grandpa and I always have good conversations no matter what the mood is.

My dad is always pointing out where to go. He says, “There's going to be some big bucks up there,” As he points at a steep rocky slide, with a timber patch just above it on some flat ground. I stare out the window for a while trying to sleep, but I can't because of the harsh road. Finally, a short smooth stretch and I doze off to sleep.

 I wake up about an hour later to my grandpa hitting a huge bump sending my face into the front seat. “We will be there soon,” he says. I'm looking out the window and beginning to recognize the area and the things I see. As we roll up the twisting road, I am finally able to look across the canyon and see the mountain where I killed my first buck. A few more turns and we make it to the campsite on top of the ridge. “Oh Wy, I hope you brought your 22,”  says my grandpa as a pheasant flies within 20 ft of me while I step out of the truck. Then my uncle Eric pulls up to the campsite. 

“I think the roads have gotten worse,” Eric says as he gets out of his dusty truck.

“It gets worse every year,” replies my grandpa. We begin to unload the trucks and trailers carrying two weeks worth of supplies. After we get the two wall tents all set up we all get a meal in before going out and scouting. The season opens tomorrow and we always go scout the night before. After eating lunch, my grandpa and I get in  the ATV to go for a drive,  while my uncle, brother, and dad take their bikes and do the same. We all go to different places so we can cover more ground to help plan for the hunt in the morning. “Where do you want to go, Wy?” asks my grandpa.

 “I don't know. How about that road?” I say. I'm referring to a long trail that runs along the top of the ridge for about 5 miles and then dead ends. My grandpa drives and we go slow as we look for tracks in the dirt or any other sign of deer. 

“Look there, Wy,” says my grandpa, pointing to a large set of tracks. “That ought to be a buck track, don't you think?” 

 “Yeah I´d say so. Maybe I'll hunt here in the morning,” I agree. We go on down the trail another couple of miles until we get to a good spot to glass the area looking for deer. It gets a little darker and a sharp wind has picked up, sending a chill, and making me shiver. In less than a minute I spot a group of deer in my binoculars. 

“Looks like three or maybe four does,” says my grandpa. We watch them feed on a grass slope around 300 yards from us. For about ten minutes, it is just the does until it starts to get dark and they all begin to head down the hill to bed down. We watch them as they slowly make their way down the mountain side. Minutes later, it is much darker with just enough skylight to see the deer. I turn my binoculars back uphill to where they were before, and see two bucks come sneaking out of a nearby patch of aspins.

“Pa, check it out, look,” I say to show off what I've spotted. 

“Nothing huge. It's just a small spike, and a fork and horn,” says my grandpa when he spots the deer. We watch as they head straight down the mountain behind the does. “They were just waiting till dark to sneak off.” 

“I know,” I reply. We are about to the end of the road so we turn around and head to camp. We get to camp just before dark, and everyone else is already back. My uncle cooks up a stew, and we sit around the fire talking until we make a plan for the next day. In the morning we get up in the dark and get to our spots at the first light. The first day goes by and we see nothing. This goes on for a week until we finally decide to head off the mountain to hunt BLM land in the area where my grandpa lives. The first night we stay at my grandparents. 

“I call the first shower,” my brother says as soon as we get there. 

“You need it,” I reply. That night my grandparents and I play cards for hours. I go to sleep on the couch after getting my pack ready for the hunt in the morning. 

My dad steps in and says, “See you at five thirty, bud. Goodnight.” The next morning my dad wakes me up at five, like I expected. I roll out of bed and into the kitchen to get a snack, then I realize tomorrow is the last day of the season, and I need to fill my tag. That day we head to my uncle's cabin. It's about 2 hours north of my grandparent’s house. It is mostly flat land and one huge ravine that winds through his property. I go with my dad while my brother goes the other way by himself. My dad and I see only a couple where we go and no bucks, while my brother gets better luck. He takes a long shot across the canyon and kills a big four by four. Me and my dad  get a call from him on the radio to help him pack it out so we did. An hour later we have it quartered and all the meat stuffed into our packs. 

“One more day,” I think to myself as we hike back to my uncle's cabin. We get the truck all packed with the meat, and go back to my grandparent’s house. When we get home everyone wants to admire the huge buck. By this time, it is dark and we are packing the trucks with all our stuff, planning to leave tomorrow. Since tomorrow is the last day of the season my dad and I talk to my cousin Chance, and we go on a road hunt. Like always, my family and I are going to play cards all night.

It is the next morning,  my dad and I leave the house around 6 to meet my cousin Chance. “Don't worry, dude. We're gonna kill a big one, I know it,"says Chance when we get to the Buy Mart parking lot. We head out to the BLM land where we're going. 

“Yeah, I'd say the weather isn't on our side today, but you never know,” says my dad when we hit the gravel road. At this point it is pouring rain, and there is scarce visibility. The land is very open, with rolling hills and rocky canyons. We drive down the road, and the weather calms some but picks back up randomly. We only stop once for a short walk until it begins to rain, and become foggy again, To the point where I can hardly see through my scope and binoculars. 

We travel down the dirt road for an hour longer. My dad says, “Hey, I bet there's some deer in that canyon.” I just looked up, with not much hope left in filling my tag. 

We go around the road just one more turn when my cousin comes on the radio and says, “Hey! I see one. There's a big one up this canyon.” We quickly turn around and when we get to my cousin's truck I realize it's the same canyon that my dad was talking about. We can't  see the group of deer without binoculars, and they were about half a mile up a drainage. The drainage had rolling hills on each side and a smooth slope on top, where the deer were. We can't see horns, all we can see is a group of deer and one is much bigger than the rest.

We get everything ready and begin to hunt towards them. We start by going about halfway to them in the cover of brush in the bottom of the drainage. The whole time we cant see them. After that we sidehill on the opposite side of the hill. We are planning to come up and above them. When we get to the point where we think we are above them we begin hunting over the hill towards them. We come up just to the top, When we can see the group of deer bedded down, no more than 60 yards from us. 

We get down right away. Luckily our actions can’t be overheard by the roar of wind and rain. My dad carefully sets his pack down in front of me while we're laying on top of the rock. I set mine on top of it after grabbing a towel out of it to wipe my scope. I set my rifle on top of the two packs, serving as a gun rest. By this time, the four does begin to get up and walk to the top of the hill after getting a hint that they were in danger. While the buck just lay there in peace, as I place my crosshairs on his heart and fire. It is silent for what feels like two seconds and then I look through my sights to see the buck laying there still. He slightly lifts his head in misery when I put a second round into his neck to finish him. 

When we get near the buck we slowly approach to make sure it is done. I can finally see that it is a nice four by four. It is just smaller than my brother's buck. Being my second buck, I am very proud of myself. After giving high fives, we begin to gut the deer and quarter it. Next, we put it in our packs and start the downhill hike to the truck. I can’t help but feel complete and satisfied with myself, although I couldn't have done it without the help of my family.