I love the first day of doe season. The cool air and damp grass give me a connection with nature that I missed all year. My aunt Clara lets me hunt her fields every year. “If you get cold, honey, there’s chili in the kitchen,” she tells me.

It feels like I’ve been tracking this deer for weeks. The farm is so overrun, I can’t tell if I’m tracking the same one all the time. I hear a crack of a rifle off in the distance. I guess my cousin got his.

I decide to take a break and dig out my canteen, leaning my rifle on a nearby tree. I take in my surroundings and look at the time. Oh my god, I think. It’s almost dinner time.

I take one more look at the meadow before I head to the farmhouse. To my surprise, I see four deer near the tree line. I slowly raise my rifle to my shoulder and take off the safety. The one in the back should feed us for a few months. She takes an eternity to raise her head. Good shot, right to the heart. All that’s left is to dress and drag.