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March quest

Subject: Swedish
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It was an early Saturday morning in late March. The air was chilly and
ground almost frozen buds had barely begun to arrive even though the spring, almost summer, stood at the door. But it was hunting season and the perfect day for hunting had come.
This did Bertil Almenlöf when he alarm clock signal up out of bed at half past five.
Bertil was very excited for spring's first day of hunting. Even though it was two years ago he took his hunting license, he had never managed to cut some elk but today hoping Bertil have put a bullet in the magnificent animal.
To help them, he had the family's puppy Arnold, who admittedly was not a hunting dog, but that would accompany him, if nothing else. His preparation was meticulous and he was not going to let any petty detail ruin this day for themselves.
Before Bertil left home he went and got Arnold then he sat down at the wheel of his old Volvo and kicked off the ignition.
The car had been faithful to him for over 25 years, but just today of all days did not
He swore and tried igen.men it was still dead.
After a quarter of an attempt to start Bertil was ready to throw in the towel, but just then pulled the car running and he ran off into the woods.
The trip went through dense forest and muddy terrain but after an hour Bertil stopped at a small clearing and got out.
He threw on his hunting boots, took his gun and his backpack with Arnold in tow, he began to go into the woods. When Bertil had found a good spot some distance into the woods, he
down and waited.
The hunter course, he had been taught that you have to be patient and prepared for many hours of waiting without anything would happen.
Therefore, he had the day before bought a cheap paperback that could function as a pastime.
Arnold was as frisky as usual, and Bertil began to believe that the moose
might be frightened by the jumping mutt.
Hours went by and no trace of elk. The book was almost readout when Bertil suddenly heard rustling inside the bushes some distance away. He signaled for Arnold to keep quiet, and it actually seemed as if the little dog understood his signal. He felt like a child on Christmas Eve, the same pirriga feeling came creeping and the hair on his legs began to rise.
Now the excitement was extreme and Bertil had taken high alert position with the rifle on the shoulder and telescopic sight directed towards the thicket.
That was what Bertil hoped. A large, elegant moose that wander until approximately
50 meters away. He took a deep breath and put your index finger on the little
trigger. Just when Bertil thought lowering the moose came even a moose up.
It was much smaller, and he understood that it was the big moose calf.
As soon as he saw the two animals' mutual love, he came to think of himself and his own son.
This was too much for Bob. Would he kill a loving father just because he would get to have some fun?
No, not this time anyway, but maybe next time, he thought, and lowered the barrel.
He returned to the car and on the way home, he bought a little roast beef as the family was eating supper instead of venison. Roast beef was delicious and tasted certainly tastier than venison thought Bertil. Maybe try it tastier now that he had a clearer conscience?

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