Our March “Woman of the Wild”-Stacey Huston from “A Focus in the Wild”

By Stacey Huston from “A Focus in the Wild”

I grew up in the mountains of North West Montana. I was raised immersed in the outdoors.. So I spent a lot of time as a young girl watching and learning about wildlife. My parents raised me with a deep respect for the natural world.
I married young, a man who shares that passion for the outdoors, and together we have tried to foster in our children that same love for all things natural.
I was raised on wild game. My mother as well as my father was a hunter, . She enjoyed spending time in the outdoors and I am very grateful that they never hesitated to take us kids along.

When I was asked to be this months “Woman of the Wild” I thought back and tried to remember, when was the first time my parents took me hunting? I honestly can’t recall. For us, it was a different time, my parents hunted out of necessity to feed their family, not for sport, It was a way of life, like gathering the eggs and making sure the chickens were fed each morning. We were taught at a young age how to clean, and butcher anything that was harvested, rabbits, grouse, deer or elk.
I don’t remember the first fish I ever caught. I recall learning were to search for earth worms, how to bait my own hooks and how to clean and cook a fish. I remember learning to track animals, and tell by the bark and needles what trees were in the area.. How to tell what way is north, and how to find your way home if you ever got lost in the woods..
My family still eats primarily wild game. We hunt for meat, in a time when most people care more about the size of the antlers that they can hang on their wall, we still hunt for food.

I can’t really remember a time in my life when I was not learning something about nature, weather it was sitting on the shore line with my parents watching a family of beaver interact on a high mountain lake, or fully camouflaged, on an alpine ridge in September archery season, talking to the magnificent bull elk, flying a hawk after bunnies along the Absaroka Range or just taking photos of our children while we hunt for rabbits with self bows and home made arrows.

I am a licensed falconer and volunteer as a sub-permittee for a local bird rehab center. I have been flying birds of prey and hunting small game with them, off and on for over 10 years now and am in the process of applying for an education permit so that I can take birds of prey to schools and groups for educational seminars.

We live a simple life, and in this world of technology it is the simple, natural things that are the most important..

Cara Cummings-My First Buck

November 8, 2008 my Dad and I got up at 5:00 A.M.. The day I had been waiting for, for months, was finally here. I was so excited I couldn’t even eat breakfast. One final check of my gear and we were off.

After a lot of preseason scouting we headed to a spot, on the family farm in West Haven that we thought showed a lot of promise. We went to my Dad’s favorite stand. We sat there for two hours…but only two doe showed up. I told my dad that I wasn’t going to shoot a doe the first day. I really wanted to get a buck.

I was getting hungry, so we headed home to get breakfast. Mom always cooks a big “hunter” breakfast for us. After breakfast I thought it was time for a nap. Dad thought maybe we should head out again. We went to a spot that I had been watching. We sat there for what seemed like hours but with no luck. As the afternoon went on we decided to try one final spot before calling it a day.

We hid near some round bales at the edge of a field. It was nice and quiet. As we were sitting there, four doe came out. They kept looking behind them, as if something else was there. They settled down and I thought that maybe it was just a false alarm. I was getting ready to give up. I was tired and wet. It had been raining off and on all day. I was also discouraged. Dad said “Just be patient..it is just the first day. You don’t always get a deer the first day, sometimes in the whole season will go by without getting a deer.” That just made me more discouraged.

Finally I see another deer coming out into the field. It looks like a buck, but I can’t really tell. I pull my gun up so I can look out the scope. It has horns but I can’t get a shot. The buck finally starts walking closer to where I am sitting. He has a nice set of horns. I line him up in my scope and get a shot at him. I hit him….he didn’t drop. Maybe I didn’t hit him. It was getting dark. What if I just wounded him? I was sick to my stomach.

We walked over to where we last saw him. Maybe we could find a blood trail. He ran down a steep embankment. It was getting dark and I was afraid that we would never find him. Dad started down the embankment, he was shining his flashlight right and left. He found blood and then we saw the buck.. I was so happy I started to cry.

He was at the bottom of the steep embankment. I was afraid that I would fall but I couldn’t wait to get a close up look at him. He was a 6 pointer!!! I didn’t think he was that big. Dad’s friend and his son had heard me shoot and they came to help us drag it out. That buck was beautiful!

We hung him out on a tree and the next day my friends and family come to see him. They are very proud of me. We took him and had him checked in. The biologist said he was a very nice deer. He was 2.5 years old and he weighed 126 pounds.

I am so happy with my first buck. I will never forget the day I spent with my dad and the excitement of getting my first buck!!

Aimee Pitts-My 8pt Buck

Have you ever had one of those years where you just want to give up especially when you feel like you have worked harder than everyone around you but they seem to be the ones with the success?  This is my story about my 2009 hunting season that was horrible but then better than all previous seasons and you wonder how that could possibly be.  Chris, my boyfriend/hunting partner, and I have three places where we hunt – one is in Bossier Parish near my mom’s house and is my favorite place to hunt, another is in Desoto Parish which is the closest to where I live and the other is in Natchitoches Parish about an hour drive from my house.   This year we decided to try something a little different by putting our trail cameras out early in Bossier Parish and Desoto Parish in hopes to get some pictures of bucks in velvet.  And that we did, in Desoto, we had pictures of a nice 8 point and a good 6 point which gave us high hopes long before the season started.  That wasn’t true for my favorite place because I went from having lots of deer on my camera last year to having a doe, a yearling, and more hogs than I cared to count, which was a first for this area.  Of course I wasn’t going to let some pesky hogs bring me down and keep me from hunting in that spot so I readied for opening day, clearing old and new shooting lanes.

Two weeks before the season opened we had a special youth hunt weekend and my 8 year old son, Mason, decided this summer that he wanted to start hunting with me this year so I bought him a new rifle.  Youth weekend he and I hunted the 8 point and 6 point that we had seen on camera.  We hunted all weekend long but only saw a doe with a yearling, not once but every time we were in the stand. Mason was tempted to shoot the doe but using his better judgment he decided against it since she had a baby and I was really proud of him for making that call.  Therefore, no first deer for him on youth weekend and he was ok with it.

When the season started I hunted every chance I could, every weekend going to Bossier and seeing nothing and then when I got the chance I would take off early and hunt the 8 and 6 point in Desoto since that stand was close to home.  I had made up my mind that if I saw the 6 point I would let him walk even though I had never killed a buck bigger than a 3 point – a very large bodied 3 point but nonetheless a 3 point.  I was going to save the 6 point for next year or if one of the kids were with me let them take it but I never saw the 6, the 8, or anything else and then sometime during November the gas well company came in and laid a saltwater line and really messed things up for the rest of the year.  Needless to say we were down one place to hunt but I continued to hunt hard in Bossier Parish in hopes that my luck or things there would change.  I couldn’t imagine where all the deer had gone especially since I had never shot anything off of that stand but all the deer had disappeared.  Still nothing and I was now getting very discouraged because it seemed that the harder I worked or the more I went the less I saw. But Chris, on the other hand, saw deer every time he went hunting and it seemed as though everyone I talked to had been seeing a lot of deer but not me.  My discouragement led to us making a week day afternoon trip to Natchitoches Parish.

We took off work earlier than normal and Chris and I headed to Natchitoches Parish and I was glad we made that trip because I finally saw a deer and it was a buck. Yipee!  A very small 8 point came out just before dark and hung out in my shooting lane for a good while.  He was maybe a year and half old so I just watched him, knowing that in about 2 years he would be a nice one.  I didn’t mind letting him walk because I was thankful to have seen a deer.  After seeing the little 8 point we made the decision to take off early Friday and hunt and camp there for the weekend.  When we arrived Friday afternoon we went straight to our stands I hunted the one where I saw the 8 point earlier in the week and Chris hunted what he calls long lanes.  We both hunted til dark and I saw nothing and Chris saw 3 does, I figured it wasn’t a complete loss since he saw deer and he was only hunting about 400 yards from me therefore I knew I was bound to see something that weekend.  Saturday morning Chris and I both hunted the same stands again and again I saw nothing and he saw quite a few.  That Saturday afternoon the frustration was really working on me and I asked Chris to let me hunt his stand and he could hunt mine.  You can bet I will not make that mistake again.  At 4:15 pm I hear him shoot and nearly jumped out of my skin, and immediately sent him a text to verify it was him although I knew it was and he replied “isn’t your lucky day”.  Now I was really getting frustrated – I asked him what he shot and just said “8”, my first thought was “he shot my little 8 point that I let walk” but I new better especially since he will not even shoot a doe.  He told me to stay in the stand and continue hunting the rest of the evening but I was too aggravated by now so I got down and went to see what he got.   When I saw the 8 point I couldn’t believe it, it was huge.  At that moment, I got upset and decided that he was right I just don’t have the luck and was ready to just quit all together but I’m not a quitter.  I have been told that I threw a little fit but I don’t believe it.

It took me a few days to get over being jealous and feeling sorry for myself and when I did I realized that the Thanksgiving holidays were in a few days and I would have extra time off work and more time to hunt.  The Friday after Thanksgiving I was up early not to shop like everyone else but to hunt in Bossier Parish and since my mom was out of town we had a place to camp for the weekend.  Mason wanted to hunt with us so Chris took Mason with him to give me time to focus without any distractions.  I hunted Friday evening in my favorite stand and again saw nothing until right at dark, when I looked to my left there one stood in my new lane that we extended this year.  The deer looked to have a very large body and I could see horns but couldn’t tell how many because his head was behind a tree, I hesitated due to my fear of shooting one at dark and losing it.  I took my chances anyway thinking this may be the last one I see this year.  I shot and he ran and I panicked.  I immediately called Chris but he wouldn’t answer so I waited a few minutes, got down and went to look for blood but couldn’t find any and it was really getting dark.  I finally reached Chris and he and Mason came to help me look, I showed him where I thought he was standing and we looked around and found nothing.  I began to doubt my shot but I knew I hit him so Chris walked a little further down the lane and found blood and some yellow stuff.   That’s when the sickening feeling set in, I had not only gut shot the deer but I obviously can’t judge this lane like I thought because I thought he was a lot closer than what he actually was.  After calling a friend to bring his dog to help track him we found my deer – it was a spike, and I was devastated.  I don’t shoot spikes, it is a rule I have but I had shot a spike.  The next morning when my alarm went off I didn’t move I was still too upset with myself over making a bad decision.  Chris and Mason went hunting without me.  At 7:15 that morning Chris sent me a text message that said “Mason did it. He shot one.”  At that moment I forgot about myself and focused on Mason’s success.  While I was getting dressed to go meet up with them Chris sends me another text “doesn’t look good, gut shot, going to stay in the stand til 10 and then look.”  I crossed my fingers, said a little prayer and waited to hear back from them.  At 10 am we called the same friend with the dog and he trailed Mason’s deer.  Mason didn’t make a bad shot his was perfect the deer only ran about 50 yards a laid down Mason got his first deer – a spike.  I was very proud of him but still upset with me so we went home I was done for the weekend.  Sunday morning 7:00 am the phone rings it’s one of my girlfriends; she needs Chris to come help her husband cape out the huge buck she just killed.  That was it I had had enough everyone around me was either seeing or killing deer and now one of my friends who doesn’t hunt and gripes because I do every weekend has killed a mountable deer on her first time to go this year.  I quit!

Again I spent a few days dealing with what I now know was jealousy.  My aunt who isn’t a hunter is the one who got my mind right.  She told me that I was trying too hard and maybe if I stopped focusing on that BIG BUCK and got back to the reason why I love to hunt then maybe things will change.  After talking to her I thought about the main reason why I love to hunt and that is because I love the outdoors and nature.  When I hunt I feel like a part of nature whether it be in the mornings when it awakens or the evenings when it is going to bed.  That is what I did the following weekend. Chris and I both took off work early Friday and headed to Natchitoches, but since I wasn’t planning to hunt anymore this season we weren’t prepared and didn’t make it in time to hunt that evening.  During the night Chris and I both became very ill with a stomach virus but we hung in there determined not to be forced to go home.  We slept most of the day Saturday and at 2:00 pm we decided to give it a try and head for the stands.  Neither one of us had eaten since Friday and were extremely weak to the point that I didn’t know if I would be able to climb in the stand.  I went to the stand called long lanes and Chris hunted what is called fence row.  Around 4:30pm I had a spike come out about 200 yards in front of me I watched him walk off in Chris’s direction.  A few minutes late I had 3 does in my lane on the right so I watched them for a while.  At about 5:00 pm Chris sent me a text that he said he has 2 does to the right of his stand.  Things were looking up I was finally seeing deer.  Just before dark I had 3 more does come out on the lane to my left and began to wonder how I was getting back to the house because that was the way I had to walk out and I could still barely see them even well after dark.  I managed to get down and walk out without spooking the deer.  When I returned to the house Chris was waiting to tell me what he had seen.  Just after he sent me the text about the two does on his right a nice 8 point walked out behind them, he chose not to shoot in hopes that if I were to hunt that stand Sunday that maybe I would get a chance at him.

Sunday morning I hunted the fence row and he hunted the stand that I had hunted in the previous evening. That morning we hunted til about 11:00 am and I saw 8 does and Chris saw 5 does but no bucks. That evening we were back in the same stands that we hunted that morning and I am thinking Chris saw the buck the previous evening so maybe this will be my evening. Around 4:45 pm a doe stepped out to my right and my heart started pounding I was thinking this is it the buck can’t be far behind her. I sent Chris a text and just as I pushed send the doe spooked and ran back in to the woods I knew then that he was on his way out. Directly across the shooting lane from where the doe came from, out stepped a spike. I knew then that the big buck wasn’t there because the spike didn’t seem too concerned. A few minutes later I get a text from Chris saying “the 8 pt is on my shooting lane to the right.”  Again my point is proven he was just luckier than me and the deer seem to follow him, but why?  A few minutes later he sends me another text that said “get down and come this way if he is hanging with this doe like I think he is you can make it.” My doe had returned and now I had 2 deer to my right about 75 yards from the stand and I didn’t want to spook them but I climbed down anyway and just as I got to the bottom the doe started walking towards me and then stopped and watched. I never scared them and they just watched me walk away and at that moment I knew my luck had to be changing. The stand Chris was hunting in has a lane out front and lanes to the left and right, like a T with the stand in the center. I walked down the lane out front and headed straight for the stand trying to decide what in the world I was going to do once I got there or should I say if I got there without jumping up or spooking one that may be coming out on the lane I was walking down. I walked thru knee high water that filled my boots and made a loud squishy sound or at least to me it seemed loud.  I made it to the end just in front of the stand and was burning up from all the clothes I had on. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled out in to the lane facing the direction of the buck but he wasn’t there only a doe and a 3 point were there. Chris whispered “he is in the woods snort wheezing at the 3 pt, so just be patient” but I was uncomfortable and needed to get out of my coat so I slowly took it off and laid it on the ground. I still wasn’t sure how I was going to shoot from the ground and I knew I needed some type of rest. Everything from this moment on happened so fast that I will tell it how I think it happened. Chris pointed in the direction of the doe and the buck stepped out all I saw were horns and a huge body. I immediately stretched out, laid on my stomach, propped up on my jacket, and shot. He stumbled for a second and ran into the woods followed by the doe and then a few seconds later the 3 pt followed behind the doe. I did it I walked all the way over and I did it I got my first big buck with my brand new Savage 30-06 rifle that Chris bought me for an early Christmas present. That was an exciting moment but it wasn’t over. After Chris got down from the stand we heard a lot of crashing in the woods and I got a bad feeling that I had made a bad shot and it was getting dark. The crashing lasted for about 5 minutes and I stood ready in the shooting lane while Chris went around to where he thought he was headed to send him back my way.  A few minutes later the crashing stopped and I could hear Chris walking thru the woods in my direction, he then yelled at me and told me to start walking the lane.  I went about 30 yards and spotted something white near the woods and there he was.  I didn’t make a bad shot! Chris then told me that the crashing noises were from the 3 pt chasing the doe once he saw his window of opportunity. That’s when the high fives began because I had made a perfect 75 yard shot from the ground. Some people may call that cheating of some form since the buck didn’t come out by my stand but I call it one heck of an adrenaline rush and a really good story to tell.

I always thought of myself as a patient and non-jealous person but I let my emotions get the best of me and that is something that I will not let happen again.  When you let the things that you love to do become work and you try to hard to achieve the goal then you forget your reason for doing it at all.

Shreveport, LA

Jan 2010’s “Woman of the Wild”-Kim Pezzeminti

Kim Pezzeminti, explorer, huntress and creator of things.

“Woman of the Wild” could not be a more perfect description for this explorer!  As a young girl, I would create some of the most amazing places in the wild of the outdoors.  The most memorable is of my playhouse underneath a GREAT big maple tree!  The dirt floor was swept daily and the luscious and green moss became the carpeted areas of this delectable place.  I served mud pies topped with the flowers of the Forsythia bush.  My Grandmother Ruby would always be there to assist in my projects.  I credit her for blessing me with creativity.  She taught be how to see pictures in the clouds and how to make something out of nothing. (Which by the way has been a wonderful trait to have through my adult years!)

My Mother and Father are also very instrumental in the development of my creativity Through many years of camping, seeing, doing and just sharing added the element of honesty and integrity.  My Dad would take me fishing atop Mowbry Mountain near Chattanooga, Tennessee.  I caught my first 3 pound bass on a Zebco 202 rod and reel and I was hooked.  I began to scream to my Dad across the pond…”Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” as I drug the most incredible, awesome fish ashore.  Daddy came just a running and was so proud of me!  I went home, took my hands up to my Mom’s nose and said smell…I caught a fish!

As I grew and developed into a woman, all of these experiences and skills would ultimately become the foundation for my work world success.  After spending almost 20 years in the tile industry, I found it ironic that I was selling “baked dirt” for a living. (Hmmm, thank you mud pie).  I was able to work with ceramic engineers from France, Italy and Spain to take clays, silica sand and glazes to make beautiful tiles for homes and buildings around the world.  This job also enabled me to travel where I was constantly in sensory overload!  As this Tennessee girl traveled to the West, it was if she had found her home.  Wyoming became the place that every chance I got, I would go there, place my feet into the vast forests and just be on cloud nine.  The grand mountains would bring my creativity out like flowing lava from a volcano!  I spent several summers in the Teton National Forest on Horseback and I never returned the same person.  I am so thankful for these days in the woods.

As I traveled, I became the Platinum Princess on Delta Airlines.  Spending over 200 nights a year in a hotel was quite and experience.  I never knew what I would receive from all these frequent flyer miles but I found out a little over four years ago…the award was my darling and precious soul mate.  As we sat side by side on a flight from Las Vegas to Atlanta (thank you Delta) we talked about deer hunting, which I had never done, but my Dad loved to deer and turkey hunt.  I told him about the back strap my Dad cooked every Christmas morning.  Needless to say, this was love at first flight!

We married 2 years later on the Bell Tower of the Hotel Colorado ( Interestingly, this hotel became the White House of President Teddy Roosevelt, while he bear hunted…I think I must have felt his love of the West) then we jumped in our jeans and headed Elk Hunting for our Honeymoon.  My hunting buddy taught me to shoot my first gun and ultimately harvesting my first deer.  We make being in the WILD a priority for our extra curricular activities.  I escorted my husband on this 50^th birthday celebration to Namibia, Africa where I watched my mentor focus and harvest.  We have Elk Hunted together in Colorado and Wyoming.  Our most favorite place is our hunting camp in Georgia where we work on the many aspects of the Whitetail Deer.  Living now in Merritt Island, Florida, we are anxious to someday find a little cabin hidden in the woods where I can sit on my porch and listen to the creatures sing their songs.

Once again my experiences would take hold of my creativity and I from this my company Doeville would be born.   This is a place for women to come and capture items created by women and made in the USA.  The products and artists are a direct result of my many years of traveling and meeting people all over the world.  Our tag line is “Accessorize Your Spirit” which is what the places in the wild have done for my spirit!

My message to all women is to explore, not only places but also within you.  There are many treasures to be found!

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December’s “Woman of the Wild”-Holly Heyser

Holly A. Heyser, hunting blogger and college lecturer

I am pretty much the last person anyone – including myself – would have expected to take up hunting. I was born in Southern California and have spent all of my adult life in urban areas. After college, I spent 19 years as a newspaper reporter and editor (Orange County Register, San Jose Mercury News, St. Paul Pioneer Press, Virginian-Pilot, Sacramento Bee) before leaving the business in 2006 to teach journalism at my alma mater, California State University, Sacramento. Reporter. Professor.

Urbanite. Not someone you think of as a gunner.

But I have always craved unusual experiences, and hunting started worming its way into my realm of possibility back when I was in my late 30s. I was living in St. Paul, Minnesota, with my boyfriend Hank Shaw, and we were both working for the St. Paul Pioneer Press. We had befriended the hunting and fishing writer there – Chris Niskanen – and what he did was really piquing Hank’s interest. One day Hank announced that he wanted to take up hunting. “That’s fine,” I said. He’s a cook, so I knew he’d eat what he’d kill, which was my threshold of acceptance for hunting.

 He was really getting into it, spending a lot of time out in the woods, and pretty soon he started asking if I’d like to join him. I didn’t, because I was busy training for marathons at that point, and I rightfully concluded that I couldn’t fit two activities that intense into my weekends. But a couple years later we moved to Sacramento, and I stopped running, and I finally said I was ready to join him. My first hunt was a pheasant hunt, but what really grabbed me was duck hunting. Half of the ducks in the Pacific Flyway spend their winter in the Sacramento Valley about an hour north of us, and the duck hunting can be amazing. I will hunt anything that I’m willing to eat – pheasants, turkeys, wild boar, deer – but there’s just something about ducks. They’re fast, the marshy terrain is challenging and the worse the weather, the better the hunting. I love a challenge. And ducks taste divine. Duck is by far my favorite meat, followed closely by wild boar.

I very quickly dedicated myself to my new pursuit. I had just started my teaching job and was overjoyed when I realized my winter break covered the last six weeks of duck season, so when Hank was working, I’d drive up to one of my favorite wildlife refuges and head out into the marsh myself, determined to teach myself how to actually hit these birds. (Three years later, I’m sorta kinda getting the hang of it.)

 A year to the day after I fired my shotgun for the first time ever, I started a blog about hunting, NorCal Cazadora (www.norcalcazadora.com). NorCal stands for Northern California, and “cazadora” is Spanish for huntress. I figured no one would care what a novice hunter had to say, but boy was I wrong. I quickly found that even the most veteran hunters enjoyed the frustration-filled tales of trying to learn how to do this hunting stuff right. Since, then, I’ve expanded a bit and have begun writing for magazines including California Waterfowl, Delta Waterfowl and Turkey Country, and I’ve done quite a few hunting stories for the Sacramento Bee, which has shown amazing openness to hunting.

I’ve also taken up photography, and do a lot of food photos for my boyfriend, who started a blog shortly after I did – Hunter Angler Gardener Cook (www.honest-food.net) – and writes for a variety of food magazines. I’ll be doing photography for his upcoming book as well.

Writing and photography has opened many doors. I’ve begun doing a lot of volunteer work for California Waterfowl, which graciously honored me with its Artemis Award this year. And I’ve made friends all over the country and world, which means if I can afford a plane ticket someplace, I could probably find someone to hunt with there. I feel incredibly blessed.

Probably the biggest blessing, though, is having been able to enter the hunting world in the first place. I was not naïve about where food came from before I started hunting – I spent some time in the country as a kid, and my family raised a lot of animals for meat. But participating in food, nature and the cycle of life at this level has been a revelation, and it has improved both what I eat and how much I appreciate it exponentially. So many things had to fall into place to get me here: meeting Hank, moving to Minnesota, befriending Chris. There are any number of different choices I could have made that would have put me on a different path. But I got lucky, and I’m incredibly grateful for that.

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Hanna Pike of Prois Hunting Takes 7×6 Bull in Colorado!

Big Bull Down! Hanna Pike of Prois Hunting Takes 7×6 Bull in Colorado! By Kirstie Pike, CEO Prois Hunting Apparel for Women

Again?!? Yes, again… Hanna Pike, daughter of Prois founders Steve and Kirstie Pike, bags another trophy animal for 2009! Hanna, 17 years old, started out her 2009 season with hard-earned Mountain Goat that she took in the 13,000 foot peaks of Colorado. This week, Hanna scored her second trophy of 2009- a 7×6 bull taken in Southeastern Colorado.

Hanna, accompanied by her father and grandfather (Jim “Jim Dog” Pike) set out for the south east reaches of the state. Packing in on horseback, the threesome set up early on opening morning to glass the area. A number of sizable bulls and cows were sighted that morning. However, when Hanna spotted a nice 7×6, she knew that was the bull she wanted. After some maneuvering, she was able to set-up into position and take her shot.

The rest, they say, is history. A trophy bull is quite a prize, but the memories fabulous hunt shared with her dad and grampa are what will mean the most. Passing the torch and fueling the passion for hunting and the outdoors starts at home. It is a beautiful thing to watch our kids grow into the next generation of sportsmen/women. Oh, and by the way…Hanna isn’t done yet. She ALSO drew a Colorado Mule Deer tag for the upcoming season…stay tuned!

My First Bull Elk!

Comment by Wendy Koons on October 29, 2009 at 12:10pm

My first bull elk! Taken last Saturday (10/24/09) on the last day of a controlled/lottery hunt in literally the last few minutes of shooting light. I’ve taken a few cow elk over the past several years since moving to Idaho, but never a bull. The hunt opened on October 1st and we turned every weekend into 3 or 4 days of hard hunting. Saw tons of elk, probably 300+ head all together, but just couldn’t get it done – either we were winded by the cows or the bulls changed their minds and didn’t give me the shot I needed. Then we had a hard freeze and snow that really put the brakes on the rut and the elk pretty much stopped talking, no matter how much calling we did. I had pretty much given up on taking a bull, but on Saturday evening, about 15 or 20 minutes before dark, my boyfriend Jeff and another friend decided to give calling another try. And the bull I took let us know he was there. They called and he came charging in, screaming all the way and pushing a good number of cows and calves ahead of him. There was one smaller bull with the group, that I saw first, but couldn’t get a shot on him. I’m glad, because I’m really happy with this guy. I was afraid there wasn’t enough light when he finally came into view, but when I looked through the scope I could see him clearly and pulled the trigger. He hunched up and disappeared into some thick timber. It got dark on us, so we backed out and came in at first light the next morning. Found him about 100 yards from where I shot him. The best part though was having my boyfriend Jeff with me. He contracted the neurological form of West Nile virus in 2007 and it nearly did him in. He spent over 9 months in physical rehab, and last year this time was in a wheelchair. To have him there with me and help call in that bull after all he’d been through was nothing short of miraculous. I think he was more excited than I was. Before the hunt I told him I thought if I got one bull, I’d probably go back to hunting cows, but now that I know how exciting it is, I might have to change my mind. …

November’s “Woman of the Wild” Sarah Calhoun

Sarah Calhoun- Founder of Red Ants Pants.

Since college I’ve wanted to start hunting. I think it’s important to know where our food comes from.  Having grown up on a farm I’d had to opportunity to help butcher pigs and chickens so I had that experience, but I wanted the wild game experience as well.  When I moved to White Sulphur Springs, Montana, the hunting opportunities were endless.  I bought my first rifle in 2004, a Remington 30-06 with a Winchester bolt.  I’ve been lucky enough to harvest a mule deer every year since, but the elk have continued to elude me.  We’ll see how this season goes!

Sarah has started her own company called Red Ants Pants (work pants for women) and travels the country doing the Tour de Pants.  Here is a poem about that.

On a farm where Sarah was raised, Playing outside she spent her days. One time she fell and started to cry. She saw a hole in her pants, right at the thigh. “What a bummer,” she thought, “these should have lasted longer.” “If only these pants were a little bit stronger!” On summer breaks from college, she helped her Dad with the hay. She wore his old pants; they didn’t fit the right way. Instructing for Outward Bound, she led kids in the woods. When shopping for work pants, she found nothing good. Next she led trail crews for the SCA. With pulaskis and cross cuts her pants grew weaker each day. When her back wore out she settled in Montana, And patched up her pants with an extra bandana. She peeled logs and groomed ski trails to bring in some money. “There really are no work pants for women. This is no longer funny!” At a coffee shop one day, she read her “How to Start a Business” book. A man happened by and gave an interested look. He asked her what she was doing, so she told him her thought; “We need workwear for women. We need it a lot!” This wasn’t just any man – as it turned out. He knew exactly what she was talking about. For twenty years, production and design had been his career. For a small company called Patagonia…. She was all ears. With contacts and advice, Sarah was well on her way. And Red Ants Pants was born, that very same day.

You may be asking, why the name Red Ants Pants?

NorCalCazadora takes her first deer!

The great shock: I finally got my first deer!  by Holly Heyser

I GOT A DEER! I GOT A DEER! I GOT A DEER!

I shouted the words into the cell phone this morning, struggling to share the news with Boyfriend as the bars kept disappearing from my screen. Redial. Signal lost. Redial again. Ring ring ring.

I GOT A DEER!

He got it that time.  

I went out this morning like I do on all hunts – simultaneously fantasizing about the perfect hunt and bracing for the big goose-egg.

The latter is a good strategy for blacktail hunting in California, which has the lowest success rate of all wild game hunting in the state. But I actually had some reason to be optimistic today.

First of all, unlike last weekend’s hunt with Phillip in the Mendocino National Forest, I was on private land. It was only 50 acres, but it was 50 acres that hasn’t been hunted in who knows how long, and I had it all to myself.

Second of all, unlike last weekend when we did not see one single legal buck, I’d already seen several on this land. But let me back up for a second.

Boyfriend and I were actually supposed to be hunting wild boar here. Owners John and Peg Poswall were going out in the mornings and finding their landscaping all dug up. Peg knows Boyfriend through the food world, and she thought her hunter friend might be able to help alleviate their problem.

The only hitch was that they had never seen the pigs during the day, which we knew might be an insurmountable obstacle – you can’t hunt pigs at night. But John mentioned that they had tons of deer that we were also welcome to hunt, so I picked up a deer tag Thursday morning.

When I arrived Friday afternoon ahead of Boyfriend, John took me on a tour of the property and I found tons of pig sign and deer sign. At the end of the ride, I even saw several legal bucks (forked-horn or better) skitter across their fence. Sweet!

Boyfriend and I spent the night and when we got up the next morning, I took him to a spot where I’d found a pretty good pig trail. We perched on some boulders and waited to see what would come, but nothing did. Then I looked up the hill and noticed deer munching on cypress trees on a walkway leading to a fountain. They were about 180 yards away.

I angled up the rock for a better shooting position and one of the bucks in the group turned broadside. My heart raced. My bipod shooting stick was too low. My position was awkward and unsteady. In the early-morning light, I couldn’t see clearly what was behind the buck (I think it might’ve been a chicken coop, but there were lots of marble statues in the vicinity that had me just as worried). And on top of all that, it was 180 yards away – a little far for me. The buck moved behind a tree, and then the whole group trotted off and the opportunity was gone.

Boyfriend totally would’ve taken that shot – and made it – so I felt like a moron for holding back. But he was nice enough about it. “If it doesn’t feel right, you shouldn’t do it,” he said.

We decided to take a quiet walk around the property so I could show him other promising spots I’d seen. As we walked along a creek at the bottom of a hill, we bumped four does on the open hillside above us. Then we went to a pond where pigs had been wreaking havoc. By this time, it was getting pretty late and we began talking in normal tones instead of a whisper. We figured we’d spend the rest of the morning mushroom hunting.

“You know what we haven’t seen yet?” he asked.

“What?”

“A rabbit.”

And just then, something burst away from us on the other side of a bush.

“There’s one,” he said laughing. Then we realized it wasn’t a rabbit; it was a buck. Forked-horn, and a nice size. He’d let us get ridiculously close to him.

The buck sprinted up the hill and then came to a stop. Broadside. Right in front of the house.

Hell!

I looked back at Boyfriend, chagrined to have lost my second chance of the morning.

“Oh, even I wouldn’t have taken that shot!” he said.

We called it quits not long after that. But it was really bugging me that I knew deer were there and I hadn’t gotten a shot at them. When John and Peg made it clear I was welcome back anytime, I said, “Could I come back tomorrow?”

That was how I found myself walking down that trail again at 5:50 this morning in the near-blackness of the new moon – alone, because Boyfriend had work to do today. I hadn’t gone 20 steps down the driveway when I bumped a deer – right where we’d spooked that forkie the day before. But I couldn’t see what it was. Too dark.

I circled around to the place where we’d seen the first deer of the day on Saturday, and as I made my way to an oak tree I could back up to, I bumped another deer that I could hear, but not see.

Crap. Would this be the only time I’d see the deer here?

The answer was yes. I spent nearly two hours under that tree and watched all variety of geese and ducks and woodpeckers, and heard not one but two flocks of turkeys down the hill from me. But not a single four-legged critter came by. And with the wind swirling all over the place, it was no surprise – my scent had to be stinking up the whole area. The only excitement had been hearing rifle fire from somewhere nearby. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Damn, either you’re not a good shot, or you’re not hunting…

I decided to bail.

I walked back to the pond where we’d bumped the forkie to see if he’d make the same mistake twice, but he wasn’t there.

It was 8:40 and I hadn’t seen squat. But I decided to make one last swing – down to the creek, then back up to where I’d started – before calling it quits.

I walked down the trail toward the creek quietly, scanning the big, open hillside where we’d bumped the does the day before, wondering where they were now.

Then I saw antlers sticking up out of the dry grass. They were attached to a head that was pointed my way.

Where I saw antlers

My heart leapt into my throat and the rest of my body went the other direction, sinking slowly toward the ground, right there in the middle of the trail. I set up my shooting sticks, raised the gun and took at better look at what I’d seen – a lone forked-horn buck bedded down, broadside to me, about 80 yards away. He was looking my direction, but the wind was in my face, so he couldn’t smell me, and he clearly wasn’t spooked.

My stick was positioned too low, so I slowly reached for each of the legs and extended them a bit. Looked through the scope again. Still a forked-horn – looked like the one we’d seen the day before. Shooting stick was still too low.

One more adjustment and it was perfect. And the buck still wasn’t moving.

But boy, my gun was. My heart was thumping wildly.

Calm down, calm down, calm down, I told myself. I put the crosshairs on where I thought his vitals should be, but the grass obscured his body.

No need to take that shot, I told myself. He’d have to get up soon – his nice shady spot was starting to get sun.

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

I kept the scope on his vitals, but my eyes kept wandering to his antlers. A forkie may be no big deal in whitetail country, but this was a respectable deer. A legal target. My heart raced more.

Just look at his ribcage.

After five minutes, I finally calmed down enough that I felt I could take a shot.

If he’d just get up. He seemed to be in no hurry. He looked this way and that. No hurry.

My arms trembled from holding the gun steady for so long.

Finally, the buck heaved – rear end up first, then the front. He took a step, quartering slightly toward me. I put the crosshairs behind his elbow and the rest of what happened became a crystalline memory.

BOOM!

He staggered a few steps and dropped. Good!

He got back up. Problem?

Even without the scope I could see a bloody hole in his ribcage, glistening in the sunshine that had ended his nap. Good hit – definitely hit lungs.

He wobbled, and collapsed.

Yes! These are the shots I dream of. Not some botched shot that sends an animal into the woods to suffer until I find him, maybe dead, maybe alive. The shot that takes him down before he knows what happened. No suffering; just rapid death.

I watched the spot, then checked my watch. Boyfriend and I had gone over the what-if scenarios the night before. How long should I wait if I shoot a deer and it runs? How long if he just drops on the spot?

Ten minutes, just to be safe. It was 8:54:03.

I was trembling uncontrollably. I peeled off my gloves, jacket and hat and watched the spot to make sure he didn’t get up. For a moment, I saw the grass twitch spasmodically where the deer had fallen. Not struggle; just the nerve reactions that follow death. I’ve never killed a deer before, but I know what that looks like.

I glanced at my watch. 8:57.

Oh my God, I got a deer!

“Thank you,” I said out loud. For the deer’s sacrifice. For the dumb luck that had allowed me to spot him, and to take the time to regain my composure, and to be presented with a perfect shot.

I looked at my watch every 30 seconds, and finally it was time. I marched up the slope and searched the knee-high star thistle. There. On the ground. Eyes open and tongue out. Dead.

He looked a little smaller than I’d thought from where I shot him, but I didn’t care – he was a good looking deer.

I went back up to the house to get some things – like Boyfriend’s truck, which I could take down the trail. I saw Peg and John at the house.

“We heard seven shots!” John said.

“Only one was mine,” I said. “The last one.”

They seemed relieved. “John was saying, ‘She must not be a very good shot…’ ” Peg said.

I laughed, and told them I needed to get back to the deer to field dress it.

But first, I needed a picture. I’d brought my camera, a tripod and a remote control, so I could take a picture of myself:

The gutting was a pain. The biggest mammal I’ve ever dressed was a jack rabbit, so this was more challenging. I struggled through it and got almost everything out. That’s when I noticed the very full bladder still attached. I felt around it, trying to figure out how to liberate it without emptying it all over the meat, with the animal lying on its side on a gentle slope. I was stumped.

Blood up to my elbows, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Boyfriend. “How do I get the &^@#! bladder out?” I yelled. His answer was not helpful. I went back to the deer, and after several attempts, hoisted him up by his hind legs to get the bladder hanging, pinched off the tube leading into it, cut the tube and tossed the bladder a safe distance away.

Whew!

And here’s where I felt really blessed to be hunting where I was: I was able to drop the tailgate of the pickup, angle it toward the hillside, and drag the deer 20 yards to the bed of the pickup. Total luxury!

I went back to the house to get the remainder of my stuff and gave thanks to my hosts. Peg looked at me – bloody and stinking – with what looked like a mix of intrigue and horror. She was totally cool with the hunting, but for all I know, this was her closest encounter with freshly-killed meat.

“All right,” I said. “I’d give you a hug, but I’m disgusting and smelly, so I’m just going to get out of here.”

On the drive home, I began texting and calling my hunting friends to share the news. I’d tucked the deer well into the bed of the pickup so nothing would stick out, but honestly, I had the urge to parade him around and show everyone: I’d just gotten a deer. By myself! My first deer ever. A blacktail! I just wanted someone in a taller vehicle than mine to look into the bed of that truck and give me the nod of approval.

I was amused by my reaction. I’ve not really cared that I hadn’t gotten a deer in my previous three years of hunting, but I was as proud and excited as if it had been a lifelong goal.

When I got home, I got what I was looking for. I found Boyfriend working in the garden, but he came to me immediately to give his stinky, bloody girlfriend a big hug. He was proud of me – I’d done it on my own.

I kept grinning through the rest of our work breaking down the deer, and wondered why I was so taken with the experience.

“I think we’re just hardwired to hunt deer,” he said. “We’ve been hunting deer since before we were ‘we.’ ”

Maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s the odds. I’d gotten my Second Chance buck on my sixth day of deer hunting ever. Statistics say it takes 33 days of hunting to get one. Phillip had told me it’d taken him four years to get a blacktail.

Maybe it’s the antlers – the thing that allows you to instantly measure your quarry. This was the first antlered animal I’d killed.

Maybe it was the fact that I’d done it myself. Sorta. While I was alone at that moment, the reality is that every action I took was influenced by what I’d learned from people like Boyfriend, Phillip and even random TV shows. But I’d made all the decisions. I’d spotted the antlers in the grass. I’d taken the good shot.

I don’t know. I probably won’t figure it out tonight. I may not figure it out ever. But for now, I’m just happy.

© Holly A. Heyser 2009

For more stories from Holly go to www.norcalcazadora.com

Predator Trail Camera

If you ask me what I could not be without this season, I would have to say I absolutely could not be without my Predator trail cams. These cameras (I have one Xtinction and one Evolution XR) get big thumbs up from me. We have been tracking our split-tine buck and his movements and these cameras have been invaluable. They are so easy to use and to program.

They take 10 AA batteries and I can change them out with rechargeable batteries that I have ready to go, right in the field. Predator says the batteries will last up to 6 wks.  I tried the nicad throw away batteries and got close to 4 weeks out of those. I am finding that I get about 4 days out of the rechargeable batteries I bought. I think a better quality rechargeables would work better.

It is a “True” IR trailcam meaning it never flashes in the faces of the deer and there is no glowing light, yet it provides quality pictures and videos every time even at night.

I love being able to view the pictures or videos on 3.5” color touch screen display out in the field with the ability to pan or zoom in to get a better look . I know right away what has been there, or not been there.

I just lock the pictures or videos I want, delete the ones I don’t want with one push of a button and upload my locked ones onto the flash drive.  I trade-out flash drives and head home. The trail cam never has to come down from where I have it placed eliminating unnecessary trips into the woods. With a two-year old, the less trips the better!

 

The only trouble I have with these cameras is it is a little hard to get the locking device opened when I want to check them. That probably means neither can the bears.  I can usually get it open but it takes some real effort on my part. My hubby on the other hand has no problem opening it. I guess I am just a wimp!

Other Features include:

• MOSSY OAK® Camo

• 4-digit security code to prevent theft

• 5 burst images in under 5 seconds

• Date/time on each image/video

• High resolution, day/night video clips (10-30 sec.)

• Activation delays from 10 sec. to 1 hr.
by 10 sec. increments

 • All glass lenses for superior clarity, not plastic like other leading competitors

 • Built in power jack for optional external 12 volt battery (sold separately)

 • Up to 4 GB per storage device. Store to either a USB

jump drive or compact flash card (sold separately)

 • 100% waterproof indestructible case. Guaranteed for life against anything mother nature can dish out!

Take the 2yr. Old Hunting with you?!

Kudos to this dad for taking his not yet 3 year old out hunting with him. As a mother of a two year old I know it is no small feat.  

This proud daddy sent me a story about his little 2 year old huntress. She was up that morning at 4:45, scent killer showered, ready and raring to go, even if uncle Dan wasn’t quite ready!

Here is his story:

We went out that morning after I took those pictures and had a nice doe at about 50 yards. She was closing in fast on us. My daughter had a coughing attack, which scared the doe off.

That night we went out again and had the same doe coming in on us. The same thing happened but this time she covered her mouth and muffled the cough enough so the doe walked right in at 15 yards. My 2 yr. old stopped her for me with the old “BAAEEP” sound. I put a good shot on the doe and sealed the deal.

 I was so proud of her. All that practicing and explaining I had done with her paid off. It proved that kids are never too young to get involved.

So don’t be afraid to bring your daughter (or son) with you sometime. I found it is a great way for me to spend time with my daughter and still get to do what I love.

Jake Flett

12 yr. Old Hannah Goes Hunting Bear!

I met Hannah at the youth bear hunt when I was interviewing the kids that the ABC Sportsmen’s Club had sponsored. This spunky little gal was raring to go and told me she would be on a hunting show some day! You go Girl!

 Here is 12 year old Hannah’s Bear Hunt in her own words:

 The first day we went out and we checked on the baits in the beginning of the day. We saw 2 cubs alone and there was 1 mother and 3 cubs. It was a good sized mother, but of course you can’t shoot a mother with cubs. Then at around 2 o’clock we looked at one bait, and we saw medium sized tracks and we guessed around a 200 pound bear.

 We got ready and we decided to go after it. We let 1 dog go and started to hear the howling and we let 3 more and then another 2. They all started howling and we kept going back and forth and back and forth because they kept on running on the bear tracks for 2 hours because the bear would not go up a tree.

 The bear was running in circles. My guide Larry noticed there were 3 dogs going in one direction and 3 dogs going in the other and it was weird because we think there was a small 100 pound (bear) and another 200 pound bear. Three dogs were chasing after one and 3 dogs were chasing after the other. We put 3 more (dogs) out there and we ended up with the 100 or so pound bear up a tree.

 We had to walk at least a mile out in the woods and we found it. It was up in a tree and it was about 125 pounds.

 We were getting the dogs tied back and getting ready to shoot and it went down the tree. It ran out and he let the dogs go again. Larry asked if  

I wanted to go for a different one and I said no because none of the other kids had one yet at this time.  

 Our truck was way over on the other side and we were closer to some trucks on this side of the woods where there were other people that helped us. He (Larry) went to get our truck and we heard howling really close to us. One of the other hunters came back and he said that the bear was on the side of the road up in a tree.

 We ran down the road and there it was up a tree and all the dogs were there. Then I shot it once and got it in the lungs and then it climbed up the tree. We didn’t know if I missed it or not. It was weird and then we hit it again, I think in the neck and it still wouldn’t drop. So we hit it 1 more time and it finally dropped. It weighed about 125 pounds.

Hannah’s first words when she saw the bear were “I can’t believe this! It’s like I’m dreaming”.

 A big THANK YOU to the Medford Hunter Safety Instructors, Ashland Bayfield County Sportsmen Club, Bayfield County Wisconsin DNR Warden Pat Quaintance, and Guide Larry Leer of Ettrick, WI and his entire crew of awesome Hunters for making this little girl’s unbelievable wish happen.

 Youth can sign up for the WI LTBH (Learn to Bear Hunt) program on the  WI DNR webpage or at a DNR Service Center or at a hunter’s safety class.

One more note: Hannah has also taken her first deer in the WI Youth hunt last weekend. Congratulations Hannah.

Battle of the B.O.W.-Another Pass on the 9pt. Buck

We have totally regrouped. Washed all of our hunting gear again and going after the big guy. We decided to try going after the split-tine since the wind was right for the stand. We got in around 4:30. It was pretty quiet initially.

All of a sudden I feel a tap on the head. Joe is pointing directly behind me and saying buck. I am looking back to see what, and where, when I realize he is 10 yards from the stand, and looking right at us. We sit like statues. Apparently we passed inspection and he walks around the stand doing a scent check. I turn slowly to my right side to watch as he walks right by the stand. I am struggling to get a good look at his horns.

It is the 9pt I passed on the first week. He is bigger than I remember and my heart is pounding wildly again. He gives me several perfect broadside shots, he is taunting me. I am very tempted to shoot since he is bigger than anything I have on the wall, but I know he is still hanging out with the split-tine. He stays there for 1/2 hour eating. It is getting too dark to video but we can hear another deer coming. This one comes from the left of the bait from across the creek. It is too dark to shoot into the woods but we can see flashes of horn and it is a very big deer.  We know it is Split-tine.

We have coyotes start howling very near and the deer disperse.  This gave us a perfect opportunity to get out. A few rocks out of the Grab-it bag to make sure and we are on our way.

OMG, what an awesome hunt that was. The only thing better would have been better lighting to film a shot at the split-tine. We were well within shooting hours. We checked the trail cam pictures and found that both bucks had both been there at noon. Unbelievable!

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