The day you spend with your father hunting for birds starts years in advance. Mine started when I was six, my dad bought me a bb gun. With multiple water jugs filled with water, we went out to learn how to shoot. He taught me how to hold the gun to my shoulder and how to line the sights up with what you’re aiming at. We went over the rules of having a gun. You always have your safety on until you’re ready to shoot, never point it at another person, loaded or unloaded, make sure there is nothing behind the target you are shooting at, these are some of the rules my dad taught me when I got my bb gun.

            After I got my bb gun my dad and I would always go out hunting together. He took me pheasant hunting with him and my brother. If a bird got up I’d shoot, even though I never killed a pheasant or quail with a bb gun, it got me used to them getting up right at my feet and switching the trigger off to shoot. If my dad would shoot a bird, we’d go look for it together and most of the time he’d let me carry it in my vest until we returned to the truck.

            The first bird I shot was up at my grandparent’s farm. I had taken my bb gun and there were lots of sparrows flying around. There was a tree row they flew in and I chased them for a while not having any luck because I wasn’t getting close enough to them or because I’d miss the shot. After close to half an hour of walking back and forth chasing the birds I finally saw one sitting on a branch that had no leaves and nothing in the way. I raised the bb gun and shot, the bullet went and hit the bird in the left lung. After I grabbed the bird I went straight to my dad to shot him what I had done. He was excited for me and told me I had done a good job.

            After I had turned, 10 we were up at my other grandparent’s house just to visit. My grandpa had a four-ten shotgun. It’s smaller than a 20 gauge and has less kick, and was the first shotgun I’d ever shoot. He brought it out to me and had a couple gallon milk jugs full of water. He set the jug about 15 feet away and my dad helped me load and aim the gun at the jug because it was still a little big for me. He made sure I held the gun right and then told me to take the safety off and pull the trigger. BAM, went the gun and I had shot the cap off the jug. My dad handed me another shell and had me load it by myself. We took aim again and this time when the gun went off the jug exploded and water went everywhere.

            Later that year I got my own shotgun from my grandparents for Christmas. My dad took me out clay pigeon shooting to get used to leading the bird like if we were on a hunt. We shot and we shot, my dad warned me that my shoulder might be sore and it might bruise if I shot for too long, but I didn’t care it was too fun to stop. By time we were done shooting my shoulder was sore and the next day it was bruised, but it was still worth it.

            That pheasant season had already started and I hadn’t had enough practice with my gun so I’d have to wait until the next year. As I waited we shot at water jugs, clay pigeons, and even pumpkins when fall came around. My older brother had started us on hunting dove and turkey, so him, my dad and I would go out and shoot. The doves were good practice because they are small and quick which makes them hard to hit, but none of the compared to opening day of pheasant season.

            The night before opening day we got all of our stuff ready to go. We had our clothes to wear laid out with coats and overalls just in case it was really cold. We found our hunting gloves and our vests which we lined with shells. Everything we had was camouflaged except out orange hats, which our dad brought back from ring-necked ranch for us, and our orange vests. Then we went to bed excited for the next day to come.

After a restless night of sleep anticipating the next day, our dad woke us up before sunrise and told us to get ready. We put on our clothes and vests and got our guns from the safe in the basement. We jumped into our dad’s truck and he drove us into town to a pancake feed. We ate there and then drove to our first field to hunt. We sat in the truck until the sun was high enough to start shooting. We then got out and retrieved our guns from the bed of his truck and loaded them. Being as quite as we could the whole time.

With our guns loaded we walked out into the CRP and lined up a little way apart. Our dad told us we needed to walk at the same pace as we started. We walked the field kicking up pheasants and trying to shoot them down missing most of the time. As we kept going from field to field we would get more birds, both pheasant and quail. After we got done hunting, we go to KAPS and get a Reese’s and a Dr. Pepper.