Into #2 Classification essay

I load the round, I aim, the gun cracks, the game falls, and I retrieve my prize. If all goes well this is the story. No matter what the designated creature, if the hunt goes well and all work pays off, I’ll be heading back to the lodge with my bounty. Hunting in my family is huge and always has been. With each of Maine’s seasons that come and go, so do the hunting seasons. With the states bountiful hunting opportunities and gorgeous backdrop of mountains and streams, I am faced with a decision. I ask myself which of the available hunts here is the most desirable. Would it be staring at a whitetail bucks warm breath on a frigid November morning or maybe watching a giant gobbler come into my decoys responding vocally to my hen yelps. Of course there is always the thrill of waterfowl, watching a mallard scream in like a B-52 over my perfect homemade blind. Although all of these outdoor experiences and many others thrill Mainers on a daily basis, there must be one that stands out above the rest like that favorite rifle sitting high on the mantle.