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     Over Christmas break my family and I went to our ranch on Charlotte, Texas. To most people a trip to Charlotte may not mean much, but it means a lot to me. This is a place that I can let loose and by myself without worrying what anybody thinks about it. I feel more at home at the ranch in Charlotte than I do at my house in Baton Rouge. Everyday I am homesick, longing for that day I go back to the ranch.
     My endeavors in Texas included going to town to get tacos three days in a row, hunting for a deer for 13 days straight, catching up with a buddy of mine who is also a deputy constable, and just relaxing. On the day before we left I shot and killed the buck I was hunting after. I shot him with a bow the second or third day I arrived, but the shot placement was about and inch below the heart. 10 days later I saw him again and finished him with a rifle. I was actually kind of disappointed that I didn't shoot him with a bow, but at the end of the day I still got to kill a 195" whitetail buck.