At the age of 14 I was at the peak of my tomboyish nature. In fact when I grew up I either wanted to be a Boy or a Dog. Spending most days in my backyard, which was 40 aches of orchard, climbing trees or hunting small birds with the BB gun my father had bought me. If I wasn't in the orchard I was down by my father's dock fishing. When night came I may stay inside to build forts in my basement out of my mother sheets and pretend it was some sort of cave or light small fires in the fire pit right behind the house and imagine I was trying to survive in the wilderness.

My father supplied all the needed necessities in order for me to stay a tomboy. He bought me 3 guns, a BB gun, a 22 cal. Riffle, and a 12-gage shotgun. He bought me fishing poles, tackle, tackle boxes, and all the best bait. He took me to football games and basketball games. He made me watch

Rambo and Conan the Barbarian with him until I invited the local boys over to play army in the orchard. So when the time for me to go hunting with him came along he jumped on the opportunity.

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I fell 9 feet to the ground with a crashing thud. The ground was just starting to become hard for winter. I tried to stand up but could not due to the shooting pain coming from my ankle. I also had a rather nasty cut on my forehead from wear my gun had come crashing down upon it. I managed to get a hold of my mother on the cell-phone, which luckily she had provided me with that morning. I walked/crawled out to the road and waited for her to come and get me.

Things changed after that, I held a grudge against my father and when he wanted me to go fishing or hunting with him I told him I had better things to do. I knew this hurt him, but I felt that he had hurt me by sending his young daughter into the scary woods without a worry. Since then I have become less and less of a tomboy. Maybe it is just growing up or maybe it is a conscious effort to be who I want to be and not what my father wants me to be. Quite possibly all I ever craved was freedom from my father and this incident gave me the way out.

A week before hunting season he took me to Green Bay to buy the gun he had picked out for me on one of his trips to buy snowmobiles for the winter. The gun was beautiful, full of small wonderful details. The barrel was engraved with intricate little designs, the bolt was covered with the designs as well, stock was made out of dark oak and on the bottom of the gun right above where the clip fits in the was engraved in gold was the face of a deer. I loved that gun and still take it out every once in a while just to look at its beauty.

While turning however my gun became entangled in the rope whose purpose was took keep me from falling out of the tree. I managed to free the gun from its entanglement, but when I leaned forward to climb down my gun had again become stuck only this time it was between the two trees. I leaned forward a little more, but it held

Some common words found in the essay are:
Cal Riffles, Dog Spending, Green Bay, Conan Barbarian, Door County, tree stand, , cal riffle, local boys, 22 cal riffle, 22 cal, leaned forward, bb gun, 2 4, gun stuck, father proud, couldn't wait,
Approximate Word count = 1475
Approximate Pages = 6 (250 words per page double spaced)