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New hunting technique essay
Hunting technique essay
Hunting technique essay
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The rumble of distant cars could still be heard from the forest. It has already been days since Viktor had chased the rabbit across the highway. It was a hunt that went terribly wrong. The scent of a plump, juicy rabbit was detected during a midnight hunt and stalked for some time. Viktor hesitated in pouncing on the prey and this delay turned out to be a fatal mistake. Once given this opportunity, the rabbit had finally caught scent of the wolf from a shift in the wind. The chase started prematurely and an easy catch suddenly turned into a long, arduous run. Viktor had tailed the rabbit for quite some time, but he was determined to regain control of the hunt. He got closer and closer to his midnight snack, when the view of trees suddenly disappeared and replaced with a large span of gravel and concrete. They had somehow managed to arrive at the Great Thunderpath, named after the distinctive sound that cars made when driving past compared to the sound of thunder. This was the boundary between the two wooded areas. Not many wolves were known to have crossed it due to the controversy that shrouds this highway in mystery. Many wolves have died near this road when human construction began and started to pave out a path. Habitats were destroyed and as a result a significant amount of sources of food disappeared along with it. This was part of the reason food was so scarce this winter. However, it was crucial for Viktor that he catch this rabbit and not for all this effort to go to waste. This year’s winter has been especially cruel, the brutality was unmistaken. It arrived several moons early and taken many unprepared souls as a result. The sudden arrival may have been caused by old tensions between the long gone huma...
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...r have slowly retracted its control over the forest and spring starts to retake the land. A lot of things have changed, especially for Viktor. Once he fully recovered, he sought to return home and find his pack. His guilt was overwhelming him, so he believed that he could make things better for the pack and himself by returning. He knew that they would not receive him kindly after what he had done in the past. However, Viktor had ideas to help with his newfound knowledge of the area and a sense of how humans operate. These things would allow him to lead his pack to a safer area where humans would not be bothering them for a while and he would teach them how to avoid them. This is exactly what had happened and things are almost all back to normal. The transition back to normalcy has been anything but smooth, but the journey is the only thing worth remembering.
According to the people the elk and deer were plentiful in the Black Hills, it was late and the hunters decided to make camp in a secluded narrow path, before they went to sleep they prepared their weapons. While they were all sleeping a giant snake encircled the camp, one of the hunter woke up at first he thought he was dreaming; so he closed his eye and opened them again realizing it was real he woke the other hunters. Neither of the hunters has ever seen such a huge snake. It all seemed like a bad dream to them; they were huddled together in confusion deciding on what they were going to do next. They finally came to a decision that they would jump over it. They gathered their stuff and threw it over first, then youngest to oldest they jumped next. Except the youngest one was afraid to jump first so he let the others go before him. At last the youngest hunter jumped he got halfway over when the snake lifted its head. The hunter landed on the ground, he was unconscious and the snake just looked at him. When the young hunter, woke the snake left, the young hunter had told them what the snake said; some hunters thought he was just messing around but others believe him. The snake told that they are to travel north to east, until they come to Flat River. Then they are to follow it into a low valley. Once they find a single lodge with a red door. They are going to the door they will
Jake, Lucy’s neighbor was a well-educated kid. He was 15 years old and lives in an old timber house with his parents. Jake’s father was a farmer and had lived in the area since he was a lad. The area seemed to be haunted since creepy tales about all sorts of beasts was told. People even claimed that they were awakened some nights by a howling. Mostly people believed that it was a feral dog but Jakes father incised that it was a wolf, a ghost wolf. He was sure since he had seen a wolf in the forest when he was in Jake’s age, but none believed him. He kept telling his son about the wolf and Jake wanted to find out the truth. Lucy knew about Jake’s curiosity, at the same time as she decided to escape from her unbearable father. So she lied to get Jake by her side on the endless escape from the futureless community. She said that she knew where the wolf’s lair was. Jake got even more curious and joined her wolf hunting-adventure.
One night he sprang from sleep with a start, eager-eyed, nostrils quivering and scenting, his mane bristling in recurrent waves. From the forest came the call(or one note of it, for the call was many noted), distinct and definite as never before—a long-drawn howl, like, yet unlike, any noise made by husky dog. And he knew it, in the old familiar way, as for as sound heard before. He sprang through the sleeping camp and in swift silence dashed through the woods. As he drew closer to the cry
While the man is thinking about the wolf and the impact it had on its surroundings, he knows that many people would be afraid of the it. Realizing that something can be both “terrible and of great beauty,” the man's sense of awe is heightened. While laying under the moonlight, the man thinks about the wolf both figuratively and literally running through the dew on the grass and how there would be a “rich matrix of creatures [that had] passed in the night before her.” Figuratively, this represents the wolf running into heaven. However, the man imagining the wolf literally running and the beauty of her free movements across the “grassy swale” creates a sense of awe that he has for the wolf. A wolf running towards someone would be terrifying, but a wolf running with freedom is magnificently beautiful. After imagining this, the man knows that even though wolves can be terrifying, “the world cannot lose” their sense of beauty and
Mandatory sentencing is not anything new. It began in the 1970s. The main purpose for mandatory sentencing was to try to get rid of the drug lords and to eliminate most of the nation’s street drug selling. It was to impose that the same crime would have the same sentence all over the nation. Some of the negatives that rose from mandatory sentencing were nonviolent drug offenders and first time offenders who were receiving harsh sentences. Inmate populations and correction costs increased and pushed states to build more prisons. Judges were overloaded with these cases, and lengthy prison terms were mandated to these young offenders. Mandatory sentencing is an interesting topic in which I would like to discuss my opinions in going against mandatory sentencing. I will show the reasons for this topic, as well as give you my personal brief on which I support.
That evening, Rainsford began his search. All of a sudden, he heard a scream. Not very wise, Rainsford noted. Now he knew exactly where one of the prisoners was located. Then, he heard a loud snarl and growl. But that’s not all that he heard. He also heard a bark. One of the dogs is still loose! Rainsford had to hurry back, or else he will be the next one killed. Rainsford began to sprint. He soon heard the sound of paws hitting the ground. He heard the snarl, and the growl. He heard the deep bark of the beast right behind him. Rainsford ran for his life. Suddenly, he tripped on a rock and hit the ground hard. Excruciating pain shot through his body. But that would be nothing compared to what was next. The very same beast who killed Zaroff had now killed Rainsford. There were no more survivors left on the island. Only the dogs
As Bill and Henry travel through the frozen, snow covered territory they notice the wolves following a little closer every day. Building fires at night to keep warm and to keep the wolves at bay, the men sense the animals closing in slowly but surely every day and every night.
I curiously pondered what I would discover if I walked to the end, but I never discovered if a trail led to a creek bed or a field filled with wildflowers. Instead, I walked halfway until I decided to leave what laid there to my imagination. Truthfully, I regretted not continuing to finish my adventures, but my fear of snakes kept me from moving on. That day, I encountered a live snake sleeping in its natural habitat. After seeing the cottonmouth’s body coiled in a muddy ditch near me, I feared meeting another snake if I was not careful. Even though Maria tried to convince me to follow her through brambles and tall grasses into a wide clearing, I remained with Shams and her melodica. The coral orange and lavender wildflowers swaying in the clearing tempted me to follow though. Sauntering on the cut-out trails, Shams and I serenaded animals hidden amongst the trees with Prokofiev and Rachmaninoff. While on one particular path, a family of deer leaped quickly across our road. They jumped so gracefully and silently in the air that I stopped playing Mozart to watch them. Mosquitoes swarmed and bit my exposed skin as Shams led me to see a hole that dropped almost thirty feet to the bottom of a
He admires the world that he live in, the way everything supposes to be. On the way through the canopy filled with dark air, he finds himself among the creepers that dropped along the canopy suddenly shiver as he walks by them, create a pleasant welcome. As Simon finds a beautiful glade that fills with life, which he contemplates the island's sights and sounds as he meditates. Soon after helping the littluns gather fruits, he continued his went on a path that opened in front of him, “Soon high jungle closed in. Tall trunks bore unexpected pale flowers all the way up to the dark canopy where life went on clamorously. The air here was dark too, and the creepers dropped their ropes like the rigging of foundered ships. His feet left prints in the soft soil and the creepers shivered throughout their lengths when he bumped them...the sounds of the bright fantastic birds, the bee-sounds, even the crying of the gulls that were returning to their roosts among the square rocks, were fainter. The deep sea breaking miles away on the reef made an undertone less perceptible than the susurration of the
Awaken by the hot breath of decaying sausages; I look up to find a panting dog, its drool patting my face, as if it were consoling me. With the realization of a dog resting on me sinking in, I jumped against the tree for support, resulting with sudden recoil on the dog’s part. It scattered away, the claws scratching the lonely surface of the earth with each tread. A crazed infatuation in following that dog overcame me. Instinct won over and I had to quicken my pace to keep up.
He had to act fast, because the storm was on it’s way. The Bear started to hand out food to every animal in the forest. The storm was getting closer. He was almost done, except for one, his friend the raccoon. The Bear asked around, but nobody knew where the raccoon was. The Bear looked everywhere, but couldn’t find the raccoon. The storm hit, rain falling, wind blowing harder than ever, trees rumbling and falling over. All the animals in the forest ran into their hiding places, except for the Bear. He ran and ran through the rain and over the fallen trees, until he finally found his friend, the raccoon. He was hiding in a hollowed out log, barely sheltered from the rain. The Bear scooped up the raccoon and ran to his cave, where they would be sheltered from the harsh winter storm. The Bear was running as fast as he could to his cave, they were almost there, he could see it just ahead. Ten more long Bear steps and they would be safe, but with a strong gust of wind, a large oak tree tipped, and tipped, and then down it went, crashing onto the Bear. The raccoon flew out of his arms and landed in the cave, all he could do was
As I crept out of the window around a quarter to midnight, I ran to the barn to saddle Chestnut. I had to be very quiet so the master would not be disturbed. My pockets were filled with potatoes and bread. Although I was hungry and could smell the aroma of the freshly cooked bread from the night before, I knew I needed to lead the horse out with food to keep him in my favor. The horse neighed softly and followed me out to the pasture. Gaining his trust, I hoisted myself on his back and off we trotted. Miles later, I stopped behind an old abandoned barn to rest for the night. As the morning sun began its journey, I noticed something familiar a patch of woods with a frozen lake. If I remembered correctly, my dad’s old master owned these woods. I spent my childhood running
Focusing in my camera, I snap the picture. Noticing in the background, I observe some animal tracks. Looking closer, I identify that they’re rabbit tracks that snow laid a blanket over. After studying my picture I start to stroll back. The grass starts to dance in the breeze, when I hurry back to the snowmobile track covered trail. As I’m scurrying back, the snow crunches under
Maybe this is something to think about. Someone has an assignment. S/he is told that it is an honor but some rules make the person alone and hurt. Lois Lowry's book, The Giver, the Chief Elder, old and honorable, selects Jonas, a member of the utopian community to be the 'The Receiver of Memory.' But she says and the rules states that Jonas's training will involve lots of pain, that he is allowed to lie, and cannot take any medications. Jonas's assignment of his is more like a punishment instead of an honor like the Chief Elder told him.
A scream passing through an open window at the edge of town rattles the settled sounds of a night tucked in, the filtering whispers of leaves outside in the breeze interrupted, yielding to the call of a helpless exater protected by sound walls; only the nearby creek persists. Call of crickets resign under full moon, and hill-riding wind halts for a moment following the cry. Slowly, the leaves begin to whisper again, though slightly muffled, offset by the impression of a scream when it was the last thing on the night’s mind.