Youth Writing Contest

Gun in hand gear on back I took the icy steps. Before the sun a frost had come the moon showed every breath. To my delight the sun did light each branch and leaf there

Life is like a tree You live, you die You can’t even live till a hundred and thirty three You can’t even ask why. Your legs are like the roots They grow and they move

A rustle of leaves quickly shifted my attention to the creek bed north of my stand. I struggled in vain to see beyond the thick brush. Was it just another squirrel, or was it the

I burst into tears of joy, as I saw my first buck taken with a bow, lying dead on the ground 10 yards away. I did it! Through a long, hard summer of practicing shooting

Spring Snow melting Puddles splashing Flowers blooming Birds chirping Summer Balls flying Kids swimming Frogs croaking Backs burning Fall Buses rumbling Leaves falling Winds blowing Pies cooking Winter Cookies baking Snowflakes falling Children sledding Parents

The first time I ever went hunting with my dad, we were chasing turkeys during the fall in Adams County, Ohio. I was 8 years old, and the season was about to end. My twin

Snowy days in winters fall Blustery winds come bursting in Leaves scatter as heavy snowflakes thrash to the ground The sun dims to the horizon as the moon overcomes the day Everything starts to frost

The sun – a natural clock that guides us through the day. Waking me with its ever warming rays. Its own eyes opening as it peeks over the hill to meet my gaze. I wait

In a small clearing in the timber there stood two lone treestands, standing so sturdily and without fail to the test of time. For years these stands were latched onto their tree where my father