Personal Narrative Analysis

I was raised in rural wyoming where hunting was not only tradition, but a way of life. Since I could walk I had been accompanying my dad on all varieties of hunts. My father did all that was possible to pass on the knowledge and lessons needed for me to become a responsible hunter and man. However, there are some lessons that can only be learned through personal experience. They are often the ones of moral and ethical decisions. My sophomore year of high school I committed the hunting mistake most outstanding in my mind. The state of Wyoming’s game and fish department lays out rules and guidelines for nearly every kind of game in the state. These rules cover what one would think would be more than enough territory to give you a perfect checklist

It was one of those days reminiscent of late fall but radiating the heat of late summer. I considered antelope hunting to be nothing more than a warm up to the deer and elk hunting seasons. This was my first lapse in judgement. I did not have as much respect for antelope hunting as I did for other species; it made for a laid back and very nonchalant hunt. A buddy and myself would drive around in the hills in an easy going manner looking for a herd of antelope to be out grazing on sparsely populated grass scattered throughout the barren, sagebrush dotted hills. This particular day was an oddity in the manner that we could not find antelope in an area generally known to have a dense population. Once in the day a group was spotted a mile in the distance but after some deliberation I decided that the antelope were not in a position to be pursued with favorable odds of harvesting. We continued on throughout the afternoon with very few sightings until later in the evening when a very opportune situation befell us. A shooter buck appeared one ridge away and in perfect position to make a

Darkness was approaching but I calculated that I could close the distance on the antelope to respectable shooting range with just enough time. My friend drove on down the road to distract the antelope as I got out. From there I continued down the ridgeline until I was directly across the draw from my quarry. Slowly, I navigated to the top of the ridge until I could just peek over the skyline. I rested my gun and prepared for the shot. However, I was not carrying a rangefinder that day and the distance of the shot kept nagging me. I estimated the pronghorn to be approximately 300 yards away however, certain geographic features can distort your depth perception at times and this is where my unease stemmed from. Nonetheless, feeling rushed and pumped full of adrenaline I took aim and fired. Dust kicked up behind the animal momentarily filling me with disappointment from a miss but also with relief believing I had missed clean. A half second later I knot in my stomach formed as I saw the antelope dart away towards the crest of the ridge with a flopping front leg, broken by my bullet. I immediately launched two another shot in a futile attempt as I now knew the distance to be much farther than what I originally concluded. My partner caught up with me as I scrambled into the gully and up the ridge the antelope had resided on previously. When I topped the ridge I immediately saw the mangled animal doing its best to sprint