First thrill

It was chewy and weird, but he did it. And despite the gag reflex, he said that he felt the sacred connection with the animal whose life he’d just taken.
“It was kinda unexplainable,” the teen said, scrunching up his face and admitting that it’d taken everything he’d had to take that first bite. 
That would be his first taste of the day. Later that afternoon, he would swallow the second chunk of heart after filling his deer tag. The second bite was much easier.
He was still reeling from his first kills after waiting for this chance for more than half of his life. 
That morning, A.J. had gone out with his dad, Jared, and his dad’s friend to public land in Area 7 in Weston County. Jared had opted out of applying for tags this year, wanting to focus all his attention on his son and his first hunt. It was his son’s chance to fill the freezer this winter, and A.J. was eager for the opportunity.
After waking up at 5 a.m., they’d driven around for a couple of hours until they spotted a cluster of antelope off in the distance. They got down on their bellies and crawled to the edge of a cliff where the animals clustered, grazing in a tight pack.
A.J. propped his Ruger 6.5 Creedmoor, a birthday gift from his dad, on a tripod and aimed. The shaking in his arms competed with his shivering teeth as he pressed his belly into the still-frozen ground. His dad whispered directions and tried to calm his son, as A.J. gave himself a pep talk.
“Come on, dude,” he’d said inside his head. “You can do this.”
Before Jared had time to give his son the same talk, A.J.’s gun echoed in his ears, surprising his dad.
The pair watched as the herd took off and the antelope took a few steps before collapsing on its side. A.J. had shot a bull’s-eye right in the center of the animal’s heart. Later, he’d do the same to the deer. One shot. Straight through the heart.
As proud as Jared is of his son, he can’t help being a little jealous of his A.J.’s sniper-like aim. He’d known A.J. was ready for the hunt after shooting six bull’s-eyes on his past six visits to the shooting range.
Still, he hadn’t hit his first two marks quite as well, let alone in the same day.
A.J. shrugged. He’d had a lot of practice playing “Fortnight” and “Call of Duty” video games, just like his buddy Colter Christensen, who’d also filled two tags on opening day.
There’s something to be said for the hand-eye coordination these young guys learn from these video games, Jared admitted, and Colter agreed.
Like A.J., Colter had headed out the first weekend of November with his dad, uncle and granddad on opening day. Unlike A.J, however, Colter was hunting on his family’s ranch off U.S. Highway 16 west of town when he spotted his prey.
And, like his buddy, Colter had a hard time keeping his rifle in line. It was hard to tell who was shaking more, Colter or his father, Wade. A gust of blustery wind rustled the back of his collar as Colter steadied the tip of his rifle on his dad’s shoulder as Wade knelt on the ground in front of him. About 100 yards away, a cluster of deer grazed unaware in the distance while Wade whispered instructions to Colter on where to shoot.
Colter tried to steady his nerves as he sighted his new rifle on the target. A lot was at stake for this first shot on this, his first hunt. He’d been waiting for this chance, after years of tagging along behind his father. 
He worried about what would happen if he missed, not wanting the animal to suffer, and knew that a clean shot was the only option. 
The pressure mounted as he squeezed the trigger.
He let out a breath as the deer wobbled in the grass like a shaky ice skater before slumping over on its side. He’d missed the heart, but the bullet went straight through the liver for a clean kill.
Watching Colter fill his tag on his first shot on his first day out made Wade prouder than he’d ever been of the youngster. 
“I think I was more excited than he was,” Wade said. He described how he then showed his son how to dress the deer. They took it back to the shop to skin and hang it. After about an hour and a half of work, the guys were ready to go back out and see about finding an antelope.
It wasn’t long before they drove up on a herd about 100 yards away. This time, Colter propped his rifle and didn’t pause nearly as long. He squeezed the trigger and felt the recoil in his teeth.
The pronghorn dropped with a thud. Colter had shot it straight through the heart. 
Colter was a bit surprised at how good his aim was, though after years of shooting cans and recently sighting his rifle at the range, he had been feeling pretty good. After years of competing against A.J. on video games, he now thinks that practice probably was even more helpful than taking live shots.  
After helping his son fill both of his tags, it was Wade’s turn to fill his tag, though he would not be as lucky. The next antelope they saw was too small to shoot, so Wade packed up his gear and opened the truck door to go home.
From the back seat, Colter sighed and wondered what was taking his dad so long.
“It’s not that hard, Dad,” he said, with the impatient sigh of a teen full of victory.