The Hunt

Tabler1

Quinn Tabler

19 November 2012

Ms. Harmon

Pre AP English 10

　

　

The Hunt

I feel a strong hand touch my back, it is my father’s hand. I do not know where I am,
this is because it is 2:00 AM and I’m not accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night. “Quinn, you have to get up, we have a long drive ahead of us.” I roll over in my bed . I can barely open my eyes. I don’t know about this deer hunting stuff, I haven’t even gotten into the deer stand and I already hate it! I fight through my tiredness and begin to get ready to leave.

Startled and confused I am once again awakened by my father’s hand, this time I am in our stand. My father puts his fingers to his lips as to hint that we need to be quiet. I don’t move because I’m aware a deer must be nearby. I am just a young boy and this is the first time I will have ever seen a deer in a deer stand. I am instantly flushed with excitement, but I still manage to maintain my composure. I can hear the animals moving across the frozen ground, crunching the frost bitten leaves as they travel. I still cannot see them, however I know there is more than one. It is cold, so cold I can see my breath as it escapes from my mouth. Finally, one steps into my line of view and I study the female deer from head to toe. I follow her every move and I can see her breath to, and I wonder if she thinks it is as cold as I do? There are three other female deer that appear, the lead doe makes an odd sound and they all dash back into the woods. Even though I was not presented with a shot, I am still ecstatic with my first hunting experience.

It is a cold November morning, it is my birthday, but this is unlike any other birthdays I’ve celebrated. There are no friends or family surrounding me as I open my neatly wrapped presents and devour my artistically decorated birthday cake; I am in a deer stand. Patiently I’m waiting on what I have been dreaming about since I was introduced to this time consuming sport. I love every minute of it, the planning, packing, traveling, and anticipation of the hunt. I am accompanied by my father, who is my partner in crime during these adventures.

I am quickly awakened from my trance, it is by my father’s strong hand. He is shaking me while voicing his excitement as he sees a deer approaching from the distance. “It’s a buck!” It’s a big buck!” I grab my gun, this is the moment I have been anticipating. I stand up without even realizing it and prepare for the shot I’m ready to take. The buck is at a slow trot now. I focus my scope on the mammoth animal, I tighten my grip, hold my breath, and squeeze the trigger ever so slightly. As the sound of the explosion echo’s through the valley, the sound of the loud thud of the deer hitting the frozen ground accompanies it. This is it, after three years of effort and patience, I have succeeded!

The Beginning

          Reading has been around longer than most of us can imagine. Reading is probably one of our most important skillsin today's world. That is why most people have a vivid memory of the first time they picked up a book and recited the words on the pages. For me, this is more than a memory.
          Like any kid I can say that I began to read consistently once I started to learn more throughout school. Although this is true, my frist experiences with reading began long before school started for me. You could describe me as a kid who was anxious to learn in my younger days as I am now. That went for anything; I was not just interested in reading. My mother caught on to this relatively quickly.
          I can remember the days back in pre-school when me and my mom would congrugate to the family couch for our nightly session of literature. I always looked forward to this fun filled nights of stories and imagination. Back then, the little stuff like this really meant a lot. First, the books in which she would read to me started off fairly simple. We soon moved on from these and upgraded to something a little more challenging for me to comprehend. I guess you could say that was partly my fault.
          We began to read books like "Harry Potter" and other things of that sort that were more advanced. I can remember as she would read these books to me, I would stare at the pages filled with words and give my best effort to follow along. I guess you could say that these sessions helped me out a lot because one summer afternoon, I remember when I picked up my first book that I would read completely independently. That book just happened to be from "The Bernstein Bears" series, which is one of my favorite childhood series. I remember exactly where I was, how everything looked around me, and where my mother was sitting. This is all probably due to my excitement and the intensity of how important this event was to me. As I sat on our kitchen floor , I read back the words printed on the paper with pride. I was estatic! I had read my first book!
         This is more than a memory to me. This was the beginning of my love of reading. This was just the beginning. I have to give credit to my mom for jump starting this love of reading for me and always encouraging it and supporting me.
         

I Am A Baseball Player

I am an optimistic baseball player.
I wonder if I will ever fufill my dreams.
I hear the sound of announcers and loud fans.
I see the bright lights from above.
I want to be a winner.
I am an optimistic baseball player

I pretend that I have already made it to the big leagues.
I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I touch the dirt beneath my feet.
I worry that I am not good enough.
I cry when I think about failure.
I am an optimistic baseball player.

I understand that my chances are slim.
I say that I am better than I really am.
I dream about becoming a professional.
I try my hardest to become the best I can be.
I hope my hard work will pay off.
I am an optimistic baseball player.

The True Meaning

                “The Handsomest Drowned Man In The World” is an old magical realism tale that really just consists of an enormous man that once washed up on. But really, is that all that is to this story.

                Although the man washing up on shore seems to be all this story is cracked up to be; you have ask yourself what the actual message is that the author is trying to get across, and also what he means by it.

                In one part of the story the woman of the small village of “twenty-odd wooden cottages” are peering over the man that washed up on shore, who was already assaigned the name of “Esteban.” Esteban is already labled as a perfect being. Words, like magnificent, strong, and huge are useed to describe his perfection. All this perfection, crammed into one person  causes a lot of envy among the woman in the miniscule village. Esteban is compared to all of the men in the village and to top it all off, they all confessed their actual doubt for their men.

                Later on, Esteban is sent to sea and something critical in the story’s message is brought to the story. The author seemed to almost explain how the villagers improved themselves after Esteban left the village. I think this all derives from Esteban's greatness and perfection. I think that the women realized that perfection like Esteban's is impossible to achieve and not only them, but their men also can only shoot for an improvement that is as close to perfection as possible to attain. That's what I really love about this story, the lesson behind it. So if you actually begin to think about the true meanings of this story, I believe you will quickly realize it is not just a story about an enormous man that washed up on shore.