Ever since I was little, I’ve been surrounded by American flags, guns, and hunting. I’ve been hunting since I was 12 years old. It’s what I’ve grown up with.
But before I could legally hunt, I would sit in the stand and watch and think about how I’m so fortunate to be able to do what I love.
I hunt on private land up in New London, Wisconsin, where there’s an old mobile home we sleep in, racks for all of our gear, and a giant freezer that’s bigger than my bed for meat (we call it Deer Camp). We set trails marked to the stands so no one gets lost and an eight-foot wide, man-made trail for the tractor.
That’s what I like about being American.
As an American, I am able to buy land to hunt on. And hunting is what my life is based around. We hunt so we have meat. It’s what we live off of for six months. But we just don’t hunt for that reason. We hunt because it’s an American tradition.
I hunt with my uncle who has been hunting all of his life. He has memories of hunting with his dad and brother. He doesn’t have kids, so I feel like he’s teaching me as if I were his own. Passing down traditions is what Americans do. It’s a way for Americans to teach their children and grandchildren “old fashioned” ways of life.
Passing down traditions and memories is what America is about. When I’m hunting, I know I have a right many people don’t. It’s what I look forward to all year. It’s a chance to relate to other people and to show in my own way that I’m proud to be an American.