Burkley

Riley Burkley
Ms. Blommer
English 1010
01 March 2015
Reflective Essay
As far as writing essays for me, I would say it went over fairly
well. I think this essay came so easily to me because all I had to do was
retell a series of events from an experience in my life. Which came
rather easily because of its significance to me, meaning I was able to
recall almost every detail from memory. At one point I had to start
worrying about the length of my essay because I was already about
four pages in and had not even finished writing about the main event.
Preparing for this essay was the hardest part. Trying to pick one
memory form a bank full of a lifetime of them proved to be the hardest
task. Often times I am reminded of events from my past by those
happening throughout the day, once I learned to recognize them as
potential writing opportunities the preparation portion of this
assignment became a breeze. I had so many topics to choose from.
Once I selected the event, next I had to try and single out all of its best
moments and condense all of their detail and meaning down to only a
few pages. In theory I did not expect it to be as difficult as it later
proved to be.

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Writing this essay was almost enjoyable for me, explaining it to

my readers brought me back to relive one of the best moments of my
life. Time management and staying on task was something I feel I did
very well. I can remember one point I was writing so intensely I began
to relive that moment as my fingers typed it out. When I reached the
end of that paragraph and paused for a second, I took a look around
and then glanced at my clock, realizing only about ten minutes had
passed. I was so deeply rooted into that memory; the several hours
that passed in the story began to feel like reality. I hope because of this
my readers will realize how suspenseful and important that moment
really was.
I can say with honesty I have learned this is my favorite form of
writing so far, probably because it came so easily for me. There was no
time spent staring down the wall of my room scrambling for ideas, or
grueling research that needed to be done. It was pretty straight
forward, and because of that in some ways even enjoyable.
Unfortunately I missed out one the opportunity to participate in the
peer review, being one of the things I would fix if given more time; as
well as gone through and added a little more descriptive detail about
the beautiful country I was in. Because I missed the peer review, I had
to force some of my family members to aid me in the revision process.
Learning that there is nothing more valuable than getting the opinion
of your peers and readers before the final submission.

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Riley Burkley
Ms. Blommer
English 1010
26 February 2015
One Shot
For days I had been revisiting the same spot. Morning after morning I would
wake a few hours before sunrise and begin my trek. As a hunter I have developed a very
specific strategy over the years that I believe stems from what my dad taught me years
ago, before I could even carry a gun. The first few days of our annual deer hunt were in
the backcountry of Wyoming. Leaving my gun at camp, I left with enough food and water
to last me the whole day. I set off to explore the area and began to get a feel for the game
patterns that had become apparent that year.
Just a few hours into my hike I ran into a few pairs of tracks, rather small in
diameter and fairly shallow, leading me to expect a group of does not far ahead. I began
to track them for about a half a mile or so until I could get eyes on them. For a lot of

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people that would be disheartening, but for me it was exactly what I needed. Seeing those
does proved there were deer to be found. I was not out to shoot any old buck my first day
or even the whole hunt. I was in it to track down the biggest and most respectable one I
could find.
After locating my first deer it was time to go to work. I started to backtrack a
ways in order to get to a better vantage point. About 20 minutes later I found myself
about half way up what I had named Huff Mountain, due to its incredibly steep incline
that was enough to make anyone begin to huff and puff. In order not to blow my cover I
had to drop out of sight before I moved locations. Once I settled into my new vantage
point I had to relocate the does I had seen earlier. I expected them to be relatively close to
where I had spotted them before, assuming I had not spooked them. I spent about 30
minutes or so using my binoculars to comb through the dense trees and brush but
unfortunately they were nowhere in sight. The sun was about mid way through the sky
now so I knew it had to be close to around one or two oclock. I decided to take a little
break and have a snack before hiking back to camp. About half way through my bag of
trail mix I heard the faint snap of a small twig being broken. It was like it was straight out
of a movie where the bad guy gives away his location by breaking a twig right before he
attacks. I froze, only thinking the worst; I expected a coyote or a bear to emerge from the
trees just above where I was sitting. My heart started to race and I feared whatever it was
would be able to hear it beating out of my chest. I slowly zipped my bag of food closed
attempting to get rid of its odor, I had never regretted a decision more than the one I had
made that morning not to carrying my gun. Moving as quietly as possible I tried to sink
my self back into the pine tree behind me in order to brake up my bodys outline. I could

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hear it getting closer and closer, but there was nothing I could do at that point other than
pray that what ever it was did not know I was there. Moments later I caught a glimpse, at
first all I could see was brown. As it slowly moved into the clearing only ten yards away
from where I was defenselessly siting, it began to look less and less like the big brown
bear I was expecting and more like the doe I had seen a couple hundred yards below me
only an hour ago.
For a split second all my fear had left and just as I was about to take a huge sigh
of relief, I froze again, just before exhaling I realized I had found the highway, the
main trail all the deer took coming and going from the valley. Realizing if I made a sound
I would not only give away my position but also scare off other game from using this
route again. So I sat there motionless, waiting for her to feed away form me before I
made my venture back to camp. The next morning I decided to bring along my gun. At
about five thirty A.M. I woke up and began to head back toward Huff Mountain. I had
decided the night before that I would set up about twenty yards from the base of the
mountain, just below the same clearing I had my close encounter the day before. It was
only about 20 minutes until sunrise and I was ready; I found a prone position just
underneath the over hang of mountain pine, and took the pack from my back and laid it in
front of me in order to obtain a steady rest. I knew the shot I was going to be forced to
take would be a long one, given the permitted weapon for that season was a black powder
muzzleloader, with a maximum of a one powered scope. Anything over about 250 yards
would be tough to make especially because I would be shooting up-hill.
Once I was settled in, all I had to do was wait. It wasnt long before the first deer
rolled over the top of Huff and into sight. Just a little while later a group of about four or

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five bucks cautiously made their way over the crest of the mountain, the largest being a
two point and the others just premature spikes. It wasnt what I was looking for so I laid
patiently trying to keep my breathing under control. Expecting that to be the last of the
group I set down my weapon and grabbed my binoculars from my waist and began to
examine the rest of the hillside trying to spot any others who had made their way over.
Unable to see any deer I returned my vision back to the clearing. In the several seconds I
spent looking across the mountain the perfect buck emerged for the brush on the left side
of the clearing. At first I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me, or maybe one of
the does had aligned it self perfectly with some branches behind it giving the illusion of
the beautiful four point. As it slowly stepped into the center of the clearing I ruled out all
doubt, this was the buck I came here for. That was it, the chance I had been waiting years
for.
All expectations I had for that very moment were shattered, I immediately came
down with what my dad had called buck fever, my heart began to race and my palms
started to sweat. I had to constantly fight all instincts I had to grab my gun and crack off a
shot as quickly as I could before I missed my opportunity. So I made the decision to just
stop, and take a deep breath. I knew how much was ridding on this moment, but pressure
was building as he continued to walk across the clearing toward the trees on the other
side that would bring him out of sight and range. So with out taking my eyes off of him I
reached to my left and felt for the bolt action of my rifle, brining it back up to my
shoulder and resting my cheek on the stock, centering my crosshairs over the mass of his
body waiting for him to stop. Trying to regain control of my breathing I realized he was
never going to stop and my time was running out. I still had so much to adjust for; with a

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regular rifle this would have been a relatively easy shot to make. But I only had one
shoot, if I missed it would take me approximately 15 to 30 seconds to reload and by that
time any animals within a mile would be long gone, but that wasnt my biggest concern.
Of course he was way higher up than I had anticipated. The day before I had
counted the amount of steps it took me to move from my position dead center over the
main trail back down to the base of the mountain and it was already almost 200 yards.
Now I was about 15 to 20 yards from the base of Huff and the mountain was so steep it
was almost impossible to gauge how much farther up he was from the trail. Running out
of time I followed the line he was heading on with my scope for a few yards, then moved
my sights up about three inches. Knowing I shoot an inch high at 200 yards. I timed my
breathing with his movements; placing his vitals under my crosshairs, about halfway
through my exhale I held my breath minimizing my bodies movement, and timed my
trigger pull to come in between heart beats. Without even thinking I moved the tip of my
index finger over the sharp edges of the trigger and slowly began to squeeze. I had
expected to hear the loud crack of my shot echoing but my focus was so intense that
everything fell silent. All I could see was I cloud of white smoke floating between him
and me. The mountain came alive and all the deer made a brake for its crest, but some
how I knew, in the milliseconds before I squeezed the trigger releasing my shot, I knew it
would be the only one I needed.
The smoke cleared and I lifted my cheek form my gun lowering it down to
rest on my pack. I was overwhelmed, filled with pride and excitement I could hardly wait
to radio camp and tell them what had happened. But even more than that I knew I was
finally a full part of the group, that moment had been talked about as being the defining

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moment between being a boy and becoming a man. Even though it sounds like a clich
that was a moment I will remember and cherish for the rest of my life. From that day
forward I was able to walk around camp with my head held a little higher, knowing I had
gained the respect of every one who had helped me to become the hunter and man I am
today.