August’s Woman of the Wild-Darla Kaarre

I grew up a native Montanan…fourth generation in a family line of outdoor people…forest service packers, ranchers, homesteaders, outfitters etc.  My mom and dad are outfitters and I spent alot of time growing up in that business.  The family all hunted…I took hunter’s safety as a kid and back in those days you could take a pocket knife to school in your pocket.

I had mine in my pocket so could take it to hunter’s safety class at night (I was in sixth grade) and show it off and let everyone know that since I owned a knife I could survive in the woods.  Well I lost it that day somewhere on the playground and never had another pocket knife till I was well into my thirties.  So even though I grew up with hunters all around me and worked in the outfitting business cooking for hunting camps and even helping drag game out of the field, I never hunted.

I went off to college, got a bachelor’s and masters degree in education, found this wonderful man to marry, had children and when the only boy got his first hunting license in Wisconsin (lived in the mid west for about 20 years) then my husband Marty really got into hunting.  So Randy (son) and Marty would hunt every year and get deer for me. I love venison!  I loved ‘cutting up meat’ and putting it in the freezer…but still never hunted.

About nine years ago my family and I moved back out to Montana…the northwest corner…back to my home stomping grounds.  I finally decided after the first year back that I would like to try my hand at this hunting business!  So I borrowed a gun that was given to my mom by my great uncle ( a nice wood stock pretty looking 308).  I didn’t know one gun from another at that point and still don’t know much, but am learning as I get more into hunting.  So eight falls ago I borrowed that gun and haven’t yet returned it and have now carried it many many miles up and down mountains and through woods.  The first year that I picked up the gun from my mom and dad’s house, I asked dad if I could hunt along the creek on his property back down to my house.  He said sure.  About 15 minutes later, down off the hill came a nice doe…it was early doe season so I took my first shot.

I hit her and watched where she ran and waited the allotted time and then went to find her. Followed the tracks and blood trails.  Retraced and started over and turned over every scenario in my mind.  Never did find her…went up to dad’s since it was dark. He said he would go with me first thing in the morning.  He did and we found her a few hours later…about a mile and a half away on a circuitous route.  I learned so much from my dad that day.  I had such a valuable resource around me, all those years of growing up and no interest back then.

That day turned out to be an education about being in the woods.  The doe was great food for scavengers that year but not so good for my freezer.  Dad encouraged me and told me similar stories from his lifetime hunting experiences.  I hunted the rest of the season and got nothing.  So I kept trying through the years and learning more each year.

I missed a nice buck at about 40 yards…even after a smart hunting strategy and waiting patiently for him to get close enough and not see or smell me.  Sat in the snow and cried about that one and was never going to hunt again.  My husband, son and Dad kept encouraging me.  Spent more seasons loving the ‘hunt’ and the whole being in the woods and observing animals and their behavior scene.

Each year I would learn some valuable lesson to apply the next year.  I could sit still enough that a coyote sniffing out something got within seven feet of me and finally I said ‘well hello there’ as that close was beginning to feel just a bit close. There was the time my son took me hunting in the early years of my new passion and we had a buck standing looking at us for ‘hours’ and any one other than the inexperienced mom would have gotten off a good clean shot.  I couldn’t find the deer in the rifle scope so couldn’t shoot.  The deer got tired of waiting for me to shoot it so finally it wandered away much to the incredulity of my son.  “Mom you could have just pointed and shot and not missed that one it was so close.”

I’ve provided many funny mom hunting stories.  I have my favorite ‘angel deer’ that flew through the thick woods miraculously because it was so thick and dark and his rack was so huge there was no way he could leap as far and as long as he did through the woods and find a path out without getting entangled…but he did of course!   There was the doe I shot and stunned and who laid on the ground for most of the waiting time and just before I was to approach to make sure she was meat for the freezer jumped up and ran off like nothing had ever happened.  My dad and I again spent a day looking for her.  Never found her nor any blood trail expect two spots right where she dropped when I stunned her.

My ‘failures’ to put meat in my freezer were disappointing but kept me motivated also to keep learning and trying.  So finally after six or so ‘unsuccessful’ seasons of hunting I shot my first deer last fall…a nice muley that I hiked miles and miles up in the mountains to get.  He was so big  we couldn’t drag him off the mountain. We had to field dress him and back pack him out of the woods.  Good thing we did…a grizzly was eating his rib cage when we went back the next day to check out if the rest of the deer were still in the same area.

We had more tags to fill!  My husband was with me the day of my first hunting success….he did all the cutting up for packing out and all that.  I helped where needed.  It was all a spiritual experience for me…the hunt, the shooting, the waiting, the butchering, the gratitude for it all.  But even more exciting for me was that four days later while hunting completely on my own, I successfully filled my doe tag after doing things ‘right’ and figured out how to gut her out and all that.  I had to get my dad to come with his truck to haul her home and he said to me in his quiet voice…”You’re getting to be quite the huntress!’  For my 76 year old dad, my getting deer and carrying on his life joys was one of the coolest things for him.  So, having spent years learning some about hunting, I finally had a ‘successful’ season last fall.  I was able to put my first package of meat in the freezer that was identified as “Darla’s muley backstraps–nov ’09″.  We mark all our meat by who gets it, where and when.  It makes for great meal time stories and we are reminded of where our food comes from and for what cost.  One of the funnest moments of last year’s hunt was taking a picture of the first package of meat to go in the freezer with my name on it!

I’m looking forward to this fall and hunting season and have been checking out the deer habits in the area and have my licenses all ready…my son in law got me a new scope…my son got me a real hunting knife after learning that I gutted my doe with a Finnish fillet knife.  I will still use the same family rifle but I may need to get my own hunting clothes…I’ve been borrowing my son’s while he has been four years in the Marines.  He returns this September 13…in time for early season wilderness hunting!  So Camp Wild Girl’s show me your stuff for women’s wear!!

So that is my hunting story…my youngest daughter Elly (10 in a few days) enjoys joining me in the hungt and will be able to start hunting in two years if she so chooses.  She is a great outdoors girl.  She lead a hike of 18 people to the top of a mountain lookout yesterday here in our corner of God’s country.  In addition to hunting, I love being involved in passing on the wonders of the outdoor world by running an outdoor ministry.  So yesterday we finished off an outdoor retreat by hiking to the lookout and viewing the wonders of the mountains with a 360 degree view.  We are a non profit ministry that believes that we can live out and pass on spiritual principles in the outdoors.  We believe that challenge, growth and renewal happen through adventure in the world God provided for us to enjoy.  We do children, youth, family, women, and men’s adventure retreats.  We do hunting and fishing retreats.  We go hiking, rafting, horseback riding, rock climbing, study, site seeing, camping, backpacking, and other outdoor activities.  Each experience is used to teach spiritual principles.  Each retreat is custom designed to meet the needs of the group that joins us. Growing up in the outfitting business, getting into education and marrying a pastor, have all come together to create a ministry that brings growth and renewal to lots of people…whether they are participants or whether they find a job in which they come out to help at a retreat.  If you’d like to find out about our ministry go to athelasoutdoor.org.  You can also find us on facebook at Athelas Outdoor Ministry, Inc.

Camp Wild Girls “Sticks” it out!

By popular demand we now have our new Camp Wild Girls decals. The first on sports a black border and the other surrounded with a camo border and our saying “Hunting and Fishing Resources for Women of the Wild”. Both are 8 inches wide from the back of the fletchings to the tip of the arrow. The camo version in 3.8″ high with the black border version coming in at 3.25 inches high. Check out the Camp Store to find all our logo items!

July’s Woman of the Wild-Katherine Browne

I didn’t grow up in hunting family but my family and I have always shared a passion for the outdoors.  As a child my parents would take us fishing for pumpkin seeds and small mouth bass on the lake across the street from our house.  We used bobbers and worms and I used to get so excited when my bobber starting dipping and would scream and laugh when I hooked a fish. I loved it.  I   have always really enjoyed fishing. I derive the same giddy pleasure from catching a fish now as I did when I was a little girl. However I’ve upgraded from bait fishing to flyfishing.   My fiancée Eric Grand taught me how to flyfish and along with falconry flyfishing is my greatest passion in life.  Currently I am the only female flyfishing guide at Willowfly Anglers in Almont CO.

I love flyfishing because it is incredibly dynamic. Every aspect is dynamic from movement of the line, to the timing of your cast, to the placement and presentation of your flys on a moving river. Everything is in motion, and timing is everything. The river is constantly moving, constantly changing. Fish move, their feeding habits change, the insect populations are constantly rotating through their lifecycles on different timetables. You are continually solving a puzzle and by the time you have solved it that puzzle has changed!  It’s the most natural form of fishing because you are showing the fish exactly what they want to eat naturally in the same way they want to eat it.  This past year I founded and became president of a women’s flyfishing club in the Gunnison Valley named the Fishin’ Chicks.  We are a chapter of Colorado Woman Flyfishers but since Gunnison Valley Chapter of Colorado Woman Flyfishers was a bit long winded we voted on a nickname.  I was pushing for the Damsel Flys but I was outvoted.

My other greatest passion in life is falconry.  Falconry is the art of hunting game with a trained raptor. It is one of the oldest sports known to man, originating in the Far East around 4000 B.C. Many falconers describe falconry as a life style rather than a hobby because of the daily time commitment and devotion this sport requires.  Many people ask me how I first got interested in falconry when we talk about the sport.  I have always been very interested in birds of prey. When I was a child I took classes at a nature center that often had talks on birds of prey. I was absolutely enthralled from the first time I got up close to one of these majestic animals. When I was working abroad in Costa Rica with a captive breeding program for macaws, one of my close friends and research partners had a friend that was a falconer back in England. I think this was the moment the seed to become a falconer was planted. Before that point, I was totally unaware that people were still practicing falconry. When I returned to the States, I was flipping through the channels one day and came across a program where two men were rabbit hawking with a red-tailed hawk and at that moment I thought, “If they can do it, I can do it.” After that, I began ravenously consuming all the literature I could find about falconry. It was still a couple years before I had a place to build a hawk house (AKA a mews) and had the time to commit to the sport. When I moved to Oregon, I was able to find a sponsor and become an apprentice falconer. As an apprentice falconer, you, are required to have a sponsor your first two years, take a test on falconry, falconry regulations and raptor biology, and have your facility inspected by the state. After passing my test, I trapped my first red-tailed hawk, Artemus.  Since then I have trapped and flown two red-tailed hawks and an American kestrel.  This year I hope to trap a goshawk or a prairie falcon so I can hunt ducks, grouse, pheasant, and quail, in addition to cottontails and jack rabbits.

Falconry is different from conventional hunting because a rabbit can’t see a bullet coming, but has been hunted everyday for thousands of years by hawks and knows what to do when a hawk appears. That’s what makes it one of the most natural forms of hunting. Falconers are more observers of what goes on everyday in the wild than a gun hunter. It is like an advanced form of bird watching. As a falconer you get to see things most people will never see in a lifetime. Also unlike a weapon you have limited control of the bird.  Unlike a gun or a bow and arrow, a bird of prey has a mind of it’s own. Finally, falconry is more about the flight and the chase than the capture of the quarry. There is often cause to cheer the rabbit when it gets away and outsmarts the hawk.

So far I have only kept each bird until spring, trapping it in fall or winter then releasing it when the ground is clear of snow and small prey is readily available. Trapping a raptor and using it for a passage falconry bird dramatically increases its chances of survival. Seventy to eighty percent of wild red-tailed hawks die during their first year of life. A red-tailed hawk flown by a falconer has a mortality rate of less than 5%. This increased in survival applies to all birds used in falconry. Each subsequent year a bird of prey survives into adulthood their survival rate increases as do their chances of producing the next generation. Furthermore the falconer introduces the red-tail to larger prey such as rabbits and squirrels that are available during the winter when smaller prey is scarce. This is incredibly important to the bird’s future success in the wild during a time of year when the mortality rate of raptors and most animals is at its highest. I plan on keeping a bird for more than one season in the future because the longer you have a bird the better falconry bird it can become. However, I have never liked the idea of keeping a wild thing forever.

Beyond flyfishing and falconry I love doing pretty much anything in the outdoors. In the winter I enjoy, ice fishing, snowboarding, snowshoeing, cross-country skiing.  Year round I hike, camp and hunt and in the summer I spend as much time on the river as possible, white water rafting, floating and fishing. In addition to guiding flyfishing I work for Prόis Hunting Apparel, a women’s hunting and field apparel company, as their Dealer Relations and Pro-Staff Coordinator.  I love working for Prόis.  Kirstie Pike is the best boss I have ever had and I am so passionate about the apparel we make.  Prόis makes the most technical woman’s hunting gear available with incredible fit and the most technical fabrics and technologies available.  It is so important to do something you love and I am very happy to say I have achieved that goal on all fronts.

PROIS COMPETITOR SHOOTER’S SHIRTS NOW AVAILABLE!

Now Available in our Camp Store, Prois Competitor shooter’s shirt!

Hybrid flagship of the new Prois Competitor Line brings on the heat for competitve shooters and archers alike.  Today’s female handgun, shotgun and archery enthusiasts have given a whole new meaning to ‘shooting like a girl’- and they’re looking for serious tools to give them an edge on the range.  So Prois Hunting Apparel has answered the call of these focused women athletes and have introduced the Prois Competitor Line of shooter shirts.

If you are competing in any style or type of shooting, you need a tightly integrated set of advantages- technical skill, control and practice- to consistently hit the mark.  The Prois Competitor line is tailored with the same kind of precision with which shooters train for competition. This line is crafted from sturdy 100% polyester wicking fabric and is carefully engineered with an athletic design for complete ease of comfort and movement.  All three styles include bilateral shoulder padding tailored to protect both sides- whichever is dominant for shotgunning.

The Competitor Sleeveless is perfect for the balmy days on the range.  It is comfortable, athletic and allows the shooter to move about unhindered.

The Competitor Short Sleeve provides an athletic and attractive cut.  Perfect for indoor or outdoor ranges!

The Competitor Longlseeve is the ultimate shirt for the female shooter who does it all!  It is complete with bilateral forearm slap pads and thumbholes in the cuffline for the archer- and bilateral shoulder protection for the shotgunner.

June’s Woman of the Wild-Christine Appleberg

By Christine Appleberg

How does someone who grew up in the Northwest Suburbs of Chicago become an avid outdoorswoman, president of a bowfishing club and editor of a hunting website?

I credit my parents, particularly, my most understanding mom.   She started a lot of my interest by teaching me to fish and then how to fillet the fish that we caught.  This lit the fire in me that nature was not only wondrous and fun, but often downright tasty.  And despite her desire to see me wear cute frilly dresses and act like a proper little girl, she never attempted to quash my fascination with the outdoors and nature, even when I kept a live red bellied snake in my dancing ballerina jewelry box.

Gaining permission to hunt where I lived was difficult but finding a place to trap was far easier.  Even in the waning days of the fur boom there were plenty of raccoons, ‘possums and skunks on the edges of suburbia for a kid to catch.

When I checked my traps I often carried my Browning Nomad recurve bow and a mismatched assortment of arrows with me.

The bow was a gift from my older brother and the arrows were whatever Kmart had on sale.  I knew nothing of arrow spine, or bow ‘tuning’ concepts.  At 45lbs @ 28″ the bow was far too heavy for me. Yet, a surprising number of rabbits, squirrels and the occasional woodchuck became dinner and tanned hides due to my bow.   Deer were scarce in the area back then, so while I did buy a mail in permit a few times, I never actually went hunting for them.

After high school I went to college in Bottineau, North Dakota.  Going from the Chicago suburbs to ND was quite a culture shock.  If I remember correctly, there were about 7 million people within a 40 mile radius of where I grew up.  There was only a little over a half million people in the whole state of North Dakota at that time.  While this meant I had to accept that there were no real pizza places or sushi bars for couple hundred miles of my college, the upside was outstanding.

There were miles and miles of State Wildlife areas teaming with critters and hardly any people.  Creatures quite exotic to someone from Illinois, like moose, elk, pronghorn, mulies, snowshoe rabbits, jack rabbits, ruffed grouse and porcupines.  There was an unbelievable amount of waterfowl around too.  The college even had a bird cleaning area for the students. However, my only attempt at waterfowl hunting resulted in me shooting a single blue winged teal, which dropped into the middle of a slough.  I had to wade into the cold water and mud to retrieve it and this experience chilled me on water fowling. My other hunting adventures were more productive, and I kept myself busy with rabbits, ruffed grouse, furbearers and even took my first turkey in ND.

It was also in North Dakota that I started to get serious about archery.  A very entertaining and patient sporting goods shop owner and his wife helped me get set up with JVA Astro Stinger bow.  Even back then this was not a very high tech bow but I became enamored with it.  I shot it every day.  At my first outdoor tournament I won the women’s division but what really made me proud was that I would have been in fourth place had I been competing in the men’s division.  I also managed to win a moving target competition. I was officially hooked.

It was still a couple of years later, when I moved back to Illinois, that I finally started to make a real attempt at hunting deer.  Like most of my other outdoor pursuits, I am a self-taught deer hunter which means that I made a whole lot of dumb mistakes.  One of my first deer bowhunting  experiences I made the mistake of sitting down right in the deer trail and waited for a deer to show up. This was thinking like a trapper rather than a hunter.

Sure enough, a nice buck comes ambling down the trail and just about runs into me.  I was desperately trying to pull my bow back but was unable to because I was overcome with a serious bout of buck fever.  When the buck finally noticed the weird blob waving a bow around in front of him, his eyes bugged out and he simply bounced off the trail snorting (and I swear laughing) at me.

It only took once to learn that lesson but I plenty of learning to do after that.  Thankfully, I was fast learner (and lucky) and did tag my first deer that same year.  Like most hunters today, deer hunting makes up the majority of my hunting time afield.  However, these days I find myself referring to deer season as the ‘off-season’.   Don’t get me wrong, I love deer hunting. However, my latest outdoor obsession lets me pursue my quarry day or night, warm or cold weather, and I can do it, literally, with a boatload of friends.

Bowfishing.

Bowfishing combines the ‘thrill of the hunt’ with fast paced archery action and it’s only as serious as you want to make it.  I am blessed with a great circle of friends and truly some of my fondest memories are times we’ve had together bowfishing.  It’s a sport where on a good day or night you will shoot so many times you may simply become too tired to shoot anymore. Laughing, yelling, high fiving and plenty of ribbing is all part of the sport. After a good bowfishing outing, a new appreciation of the simple things like a hot shower and good soap are realized.

I have been bowfishing almost year round for several years now.  I’ve bowfished from Lake Guntersville in Georgia to Saginaw Bay in Michigan and many places in between.   My boyfriend Kendall has a tricked out pontoon boat that has a raised shooting deck, lights, generator and uses a pusher fan instead of a trolling motor to get into very shallow water.   It gets us some weird looks when we pull it down the road but it is an absolutely sweet bowfishing rig.  [If you're reading this Kendall, I do love you for more than your boat!]

I am currently President of the Illinois Bowfishers Club.  It’s a not for profit club that promotes bowfishing in Illinois through education events, outdoor shows and also host several tournaments and fun shoots.   We also work with state and federal fisheries biologists who study both native and invasive non-native species.  This makes the sport not only fun and entertaining but downright interesting too.

If you are someone who is interested in cutting back on your ‘down time’ between deer seasons, I urge you to look into bowfishing.  You might be surprised at just how much it will change your opinion of the ‘off season’.   I will be teaching a bowfishing class for women at an upcoming Women in the Outdoors class in July at Clinton Lake in Illinois.

For information about bowfishing, check out www.illinoisbowfishers.com

I am an editor and administrator on www.HuntingNet.com There’s a wealth of hunting information there that will help a new hunter avoid learning so many lessons by trial and error like I did.

What Do I do with the spurs? Make Jewelry of Course!

What do I do with the spurs? Make Jewelry of Course! by Irene Pawlisch

It has been 6 LONG years since my last Eastern turkey harvest.  Speculation of bad winters and predation have made it appear there are less birds on the property combined with bad luck of weather make a harvest that much more difficult to achieve.  This year, I got my bird!  Twenty-two pounds, 10 inch beard, and 1 inch spurs.  Beautiful matching spurs at that.  I have wanted to make a necklace for years and at last I had my chance.

It is a simple method to clean up the spurs.

1. Cut off the feet at the knee knuckle with your hunting knife when butchering the bird.
2. Get a hacksaw.  Hold the knee end on a firm surface and slowly as close to the spur cut off the foot end.
3. Still holding at the knee end cut off the other side of the spur with the saw.
4. Using a toothpick or wooden skewer poke out the insides of the bones.
5. Remove as much skin and soft tissue as possible with your knife.
6. Boil spur in water with a few drops of dish soap for a few minutes.
7. Spur will discolor temporarily.  Remove as much additional soft tissue as possible.  Reboil until clean.  The longer you wait to clean off the bone the yellower it will be in the end.
8. Let dry then use a fine sandpaper to smooth out the bone edges and clean up bone appearance.
9. Apply a coat of polyurethane or clear nail polish to the spurs for a glossy finish.
10. You can now treat your spurs like beads!

If you are not an experienced beader you can take your spurs to a bead store for assistance.  I have done this a couple times so I decided to dive in and purchased all my supplies for minimal cost at a big box store.  (I went to a store that starts with a W if you like the beads on my necklace.)  After searching the internet bead jewelry for design inspiration I decided on copying a necklace I tend to wear often.  I copied the lengths and everything from this necklace.

Some design tips I have found helpful.  Beads that look the same rectangular shape and color of the bone section of the spur help blend the spurs into the necklace design.  Patterns make the necklace more appealing to the eye.  Layout your pattern in full and experiment with different patterns before you commit.  Natural stones and wood seems the best match for spurs.

You could do the traditional leather strap with wooden beads but I like a little shine and sparkle.  I am still a girl at heart even if I have dirt under my nails 90% of the time.  I am the only hunter in my circle of girlfriends and I love that my spur necklace would stand up to their bling when we have girls night out.

Kicking Beards II for Kicking Bear Kicks Back!

When I won the spot at the Kicking Beards 2 Pro/Am event in Kansas, I really didn’t have a clue what it was about. I thought it looked like a good organization to donate to and if I should win, it would be fun to go turkey hunting. Boy I had no clue what I was getting into.

First of all getting to “hang out” with the awesome Pros that were there was an absolute hoot. Guys like Heath Painter, and his camera man Chris Dyer a.k.a. “Catfish” a.k.a. “Flathead” who hosted in my first turkey kill, Mike Miller a.k.a. the “Assassin” who called in and filmed my second pinch, Tom King, Trevon Stoltzfus, Jimmy Big Time, J.T. Harden, Ryan Litwin, Casey and Chris Keefer, Matt Burtin and David Langston just to name a few. Meeting new friends like Thad Pool, Jodi Smith, Doug Gilmore, Maria Dupertuis, Durk Stark and the other winners and volunteers, well that in itself was more than worth the donation. I know I am going to ruin a bunch of macho egos, but you couldn’t find a bigger hearted, giving group of people that like to have fun. Add in Kevin Blake Weldon, who put on a concert, and the Locked Horn Outfitter owners Jared and Lizzie Crider and things were rocking.

We put down 25 turkeys total and I shot my first and 2^nd turkeys on film. I hunted hard and made great contacts, but that was not what I really want to tell you about today.

I want to help get the word out about Kicking Bear One on One. This program was started by Ray Howell whose dad abandoned him, as a young child. Ray proceeded in life getting into trouble and eventually someone took the time and introduced him to hunting. It changed his life.

Ray has a much higher calling in life. There is a love for people that simply oozes from his gentle giant. You feel it the first time you are near him. Ray started Kicking Bear to give kids the chance to be mentored in hunting and hopefully change their lives for the better also. My favorite movie is Pay it Forward and that is exactly how Ray Howell lives his life. In the movie each person had to pay a kindness forward to 3 people, Ray has long surpassed that number. His program is one that will continue to breed a “pay it forward” attitude, while changing, and in some cases healing, the lives of not only our youth, but the people that surround them.

The following is the philosophy behind the Kicking Bear program.

Impacting the children of tomorrow… Showing youth a better way of life while providing them with a weekend of fun to experience new things and meet new friends.

Nothing we do is as important as the impact that we have on the youth community.

1. 1. Engaging activities develop values, skills and relationships. Activities are not seen as ends in themselves, but as vehicles for creating values, building skills and solidifying peer and adult relationships. An engaging activity is one that holds the youth’s attention, awakens their imagination, and inspires them to want to learn more.
2. 2. All youth have equal rights to be accepted, respected and valued by others. Youth are viewed as individuals to be developed, not problems to be solved.
3. 3. Youth should be involved in decision-making and program design. If children get to choose how, when, in what and with whom to be engaged, they are far more likely to enjoy themselves and behave cooperatively.
4. 4. When we listen for understanding everyone learns — youth and adults alike. We are constantly able to learn from the youth as well as each other. Everyone is a learner.

Kicking Bear also follows up by providing free hunting and fishing experiences for kids that cannot afford it. That pretty much says it all.

I went to Kicking Beards thinking about what I could do for myself. I left Kicking Beards thinking about what I could do for others. I had someone that taught me in the beginning (thanks dad) and there are so many kids, (and adults) out there whose lives could be changed by having a mentor.

Kicking Bear holds camps all across the country at no cost to the kids. Please take the time to find out more about the Kicking Bear program and how you can help. Volunteer your time, donate your resources, or simply put out the word. No gift to this program will go unused. If someone taught you, please “pay it forward” it could change a life.

For more information about the Kicking Bear Program click here.

May’s Woman of the Wild-Gretchen Steele

“In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, — no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes), which nature cannot repair.”

This quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson was taught to me by mother many, many, years ago, where I was barely big enough to remember it, let alone really fully appreciate it. Thanks to the countless hours that she, my uncles and others let me tag along with them on their adventures in the woods, the lakes, the rivers and the streams of southern Illinois, I soon developed a passion for being “In the Woods.”

I developed a passion for being outside, knee deep in all that the outdoors had to offer. It seems that it didn’t really take all that long and I too felt that in the woods I could return to reason and faith.

Growing up in Southern Illinois put me in the enviable position of always just being a few minutes away from open fields, high bluffs, hardwood forests and the rivers, lakes, and sloughs.

Here I chased rabbits, quail and pheasants, deer, turkey and dove. I ran trotlines, turtle lines and traps.  I marked my days not by the calendar but by the seasons – root digging season, morel season, time to harvest the plants….watching the incoming migratory waterfowl in the fall, gauging time by the changes in the creatures and the landscape.  I am forever grateful that both of my parents and my extended family passed down to me the traditions of living wild.

Not only are we meat hunters in this household, and eat a great deal of wild game and fish, I also forage for wild foods and the medicinal plants and roots.  Many a frantic neighborhood mother with crying toddler has stopped by for mullein oil to soothe the earache. A diabetic friend uses the comfrey infusion to heal wounds on his feet that traditional medicine couldn’t.

Because I was raised by parents who lived in the through the Depression, nothing goes to waste and nothing is taken for granted. “Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without. “  was a common phrase in our household growing up and continues in my home today.  I learned early on that as long we remained good stewards of the land and conservationists, the forest and the fields could provide for us.

I never take a harvest for granted – taking a moment to thank the deer, the turkey, the rabbit or squirrel that gave up its life so I could have a tasty meal in the crock pot. I count my blessings when I find a big mushroom flush or huge patch of ginseng, golden seal and blood root.

Although hunting with firearms and bows  became somewhat curtailed for me over ten years ago when I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, and my upper body strength and coordination started disappear I realized with the help of a great occupational therapist that truly, I could still hunt, only with a camera. I could still fish – it was good exercise for those often uncooperative upper limbs, I could still hike, I just had to build rest periods into the plan for the day.

I’ve become an ace at ferreting out places that on tough days I can take the scooter down the trail, and have developed a network of friends who always happy to accompany  me on the days I’m not so sure I should be climbing up a bluff  or out setting turtle lines alone.

Do not be fooled – hunting with a camera entails just as much as hunting with weapons. I track, I pattern, I lie in wait…sit in stands, hide in blinds, and lay out in the snowy winter fields with the waterfowl hunters waiting on the geese to come flying into the spread.

I’m very proud that I was asked to be on the Board of Directors for Hunters With Disabilities (www.hwd2010.com) . Through this organization we able to bring both the able bodied and disabled hunting community together through a mutual love of the outdoors, and an understanding that for so many of us our time outside, our time in the woods is vital to our well being. The forests and the fields are our “dirt church”.

The MS diagnosis was my “aha moment”  when I decided that I would chuck my career as a public health nurse and focus on spending as much time as possible as long as possible in the forests and the fields.  Ten odd years down the road and I have a successful photography business that specializes in outdoor, hunting, and wildlife photography and a budding career as outdoor writer and blogger.  I’ve been added as pro staff / official photographer at several hunt clubs and hunting or fishing organizations. This has allowed me to network and build even more friendships with others who enjoy their time outside.  My mentors have been many and I have been truly blessed in that arena.

Finally as I approach the ripe old age of 50 it seems I’ve found my place in the world and it’s in the woods!

Please visit my blogs  and my web site to have a peek at my life these days.

Steele Photo Services – www.steelephotoservices.com

Through the Lens – hosted at Prairie State Outdoors www.Prairiestateoutdoors.com

In the Forests and the Fields – http://siloforests.blogspot.com/

As well as my second home on the internet – Southern Illinois Outdoors – www.siloutdoors.com

Learning to Call-By Mia Anstine

I love so much learning new things when it comes to hunting.  This spring, one of our clients suggested that I try a specific mouth reed for turkey calling.  He recommended the “Lost Poult” from Cane Creek calls.  I got on-line and found the reed.  I also viewed a video which they have on their site about how to use it, as well as what it should sound like.  I placed my order and awaited the arrival of my new call!

I practiced with my glass call, slate and box call in anticipation of the arrival of “The Reed”.

Finally the day arrived.  I received “Lost Poult” in the mail.  My husband watched as I held it up with a big smile and popped it in my mouth.  He being experienced at calling with a reed, immediately began to laugh.  I smiled and tried to blow….  kchhhhhlllllllccccchchhchhhhh.  Nothing but static!  I sounded like the suction tube at the dentist office.  We laughed, and he warned me not to choke on it.  I tried to catch my breath from laughing, and nearly did swallow the reed.  Hmmm.  I tried again.  “ssschhhheeek”  Oh no!  I was definitely going to need practice at this thing!  A few more squawks, out of me, and then my husband broke out his reed and showed me how it was done.

Now I had competition.  Now I had to figure out that call!

Picture this.  I drive an hour to and from work every day.  That means I have plenty of spare time on my hands.  I try not to text and drive.  I try not to take photos while I drive.  I also try to stay awake while I drive.  I drive and I drive and I drive.  I decided this would be the perfect opportunity to practice my “Lost Poult” call!   I loaded the YouTube video onto my black berry, and played the “Lost Poult” for inspiration.  Then I proceeded to practice.

Well, I must tell you that I also had already been playing around with a reed for a coyote call.  I found that one fairly easy to use.  It wasn’t so technical to make a sound with the way that the turkey call was.  One day while driving, I was admiring the gigantic prairie dogs that were popping up out of the snow.  I gazed across the field and spotted a coyote sleeping in the field off to the right.  I pulled over and decided to try out my skills.  I popped my reed in and yelped a couple of times.  The coyote raised its head.  I then yelped like a pup, and the coyote got to its feet.  It started to come to me.  Knowing that my husband would NEVER belive me, I pulled out my trusty camera which I never leave at home.  I took photos of it and I yelped and called as the traffic drove by until it finally was scared off by a big semi.

When I arrived at my destination, I called my husband and told him my story of calling in a coyote.  I knew it.  He didn’t belive me.  That evening, I showed him my proof, and he smiled.

I see plenty of wild life on my daily trips to and from work.  I see prairie dogs, coyotes, foxes, bobcats, deer, elk, and I also see none other than wild turkeys!  Well, now that I had barked at a coyote, I needed to try my “Lost Poult” on a real live turkey.

One sunshiny spring afternoon, I was cruising along, driving and driving and driving.  I saw out of the corner of my eye two turkeys.  I quickly grabbed my reed, veered, pulled off the road, rolled down the window and grabbed my camera.  I clucked at the hens and they ignored me.  Hmm.  I thought.  I better try a shock.  I bocked a loud call to them and got their attention.  Then I purred.  They purred back and headed toward me.  Toward the highway with the passing vehicles.  Woah.  I decided that I was satisfied with that!  I turned off my camera and put my reed away.  I headed for home with a big grin on my face.

Upon arrival at the house, I pulled out my camera and showed my husband the pics of the hens.  He said “no way”.  I told him that I now know how to use my call.  He asked me to show him.  I grabbed my reed, bocked, purred and cackled as he watched with his eyes wide open!

The best way to learn a call….  Many hours of driving!  

Thank you to Cane Creek for their YouTube video and instruction.  I couldn’t have done it with out you!  Season starts Saturday.  Let’s see how I do!

Mia has a blog at http://outfitterlife.wordpress.com/ . You can find several more of her exciting stories and adventures there.

April’s Woman of the Wild-McKinzie Ledbeter

By~McKinzie Ledbeter

Ever since I can remember, I have been out hunting with my family.  If my dad was not taking me with him it was my grandpa.  My mom always was stuck taking my sisters.  I have three sisters, I am the oldest and we all big game hunt. Every time I was able to go, I was already in the truck ready and waiting.

I finally got my first buck with a rifle when I was eleven. My dad patted me on the back told me great job, smiled really big and told me I probably just got the biggest deer I’ll ever get.  It was a dandy 4 x4 with eye guards!  He was tall and wide and me standing next to it made that deer look that much bigger.  The following year my dad and I made the longest, hardest stock on this nice buck, didn’t really know how big he was at the time but he beat my buck from the year before. My dad just shook his head and laughed.  That same year I got a nice 4×5 elk.  That was a good year for me!

I think I’ve done pretty good over the years, I’ve put in my time and I’ve gotten some nice shots and nice animals. I still remember every year when I was just starting out my dad would always remind my sisters and I why we hunted. Hunting wasn’t about the size of the horns, it’s for putting meat on the table.  We’ve never hunted for horns and I never have passed up a nice shot opportunity whether it was a two by three or a four by four.

I just started bow hunting three years ago.  My first year I had my opportunities but just couldn’t get that shot I was looking for.  My second year I shot a doe right through the pumper, I thought bow hunting was awesome. Getting my first deer with a bow made rifle-hunting feel as if I just won a basket of fruit or something.  There is no comparison bow hunting for me is like winning a sweet pair of Swarovski binos!  I love hunting!  The only reason why my dad wasn’t with me for my first buck with my bow was because he told me he didn’t want to have to deliver my baby in the mountains.

I got my buck 3×2 in early archery season Sept. 5, 2009. I was a week over due. On the way down off the hill I told Walter he needed to get me off this hill RIGHT NOW!  About 5 minutes later as we were headed down off the hill to the hospital I saw my buck and told him to stop.  He thought I was having a really bad contraction and asked how I was feeling.

I told him before we started on our way again I wanted to shoot this buck I had spotted!  He couldn’t see it because it was on my side, down the hill about 40 yards. He looked at me with confusion.  We got out, I grab my bow, asked him how far it was. He wasn’t taking me serious at all. He thought I was playing a joke on him. Finally he realized I wasn’t messing around, and really did want to shoot this buck, he ranged it at 44 yards.

When I shot at the buck, it went just under him. As I headed off of the road, I asked if there was a road below us.  He told me yes.

Without even thinking about how far the road could be below me away, I went to go find my arrow and look for blood just in case. I thought maybe I could find that buck one last time.  One thing I did know, before jumped off the beaten trail was, there is no way in hell I was hiking back up.

As I took off, I told Walt, I was not leaving without this deer. When I had made it to where the deer was standing I found his tracks and followed them down to the next road.  The deer had crossed the road but I stayed there to wait for the truck to come down to meet me. As I waited for my partner to meet me I scoped it out hoping to see my buck.  Low and behold, there he was about two hundred yards away eating his way back up to the road that I was on and two other bucks had joined him.  A three point and a little two point.  After Walter finally got to me I told him that there were three bucks and I wanted to try and get one still.

Walter asked about my contractions and I looked at him puzzled and said, “What contractions?  We’re hunting!”  With all the adrenaline I had forgotten about them. He did not argue with me, he knew there’s no point arguing with a pregnant woman.

We walked the road to get closer to the deer.  They were feeding right up to the road, so we just waited and watched them for about half an hour.  After about half hour, they were within 50 yards still a little far for my little bow.  Then all of a sudden, the little two point that we could not shoot bolted straight up at us. After he did that, we got nervous that he would wind us and take off taking the other two with him.  We both looked at each, we could read each other’s minds we knew then take our one clear shot or don’t get any.  By that time, the two bucks were 40 yards.

Walter told me to hold a little high because I shot low the last time and when I did I got him in the spine and he fell right in his tracks.  Walter took off after the second one and got him a half hour later while I waited with my deer.  We packed them out as fast as we could to try to beat the dark, but it got dark anyway.

I got home that night happy as could be. I had hunted that whole season every minute I could.  Finally, I got my deer!  That next morning I was really on my way to the hospital this time! I had my baby almost exactly two days after shooting the buck.  I love hunting so much my son’s middle name is Hunter!

PRÓIS HUNTING AND FIELD APPAREL PARTNERS WITH CAMP WILD GIRLS TO LAUNCH EXCITING NEW HOME HUNTING PARTY PROGRAM

Command Sergeant Major Turkey Wrestler

Command Sergeant Major Turkey Wrestler by Irene Pawlisch

After three days of hunting, I leave Kansas humbled by the weather and proud we were the first hunters to not quit on our guide, Don Wright.  My husband, Tom and I met Kirk Cherry, Chief Executive Officer for Tallgrass Outdoor Adventures, LLC, and Don December 26, 2009, the day after a blizzard, to hunt Rio turkey.  After discussing the hunt plan our conversations drifted towards Fort Riley.  It was an impressive sight to see all the helicopters and Big Red One out front as we drove past.  That was when we learned Don was on a few days leave from his duties of Command Sergeant Major to be our guide.  Don is a proud member of the Big Red One and has completed many tours, including Iraq.  Don’s wife has also done tours in Iraq and Kirk’s wife was a helicopter pilot for the army.  Having a deep respect for the military this was a treat to speak openly with these men.

Kirk then mentions in these bad conditions Don was the best man to be our guide.  Thanks to a former hunter, “Git yur gun-Git yur gun” Gus, Don earned the title of turkey wrestler after a 100 yard up, down, all around  dash after a wounded bird, that ended in knock the wind out of him tackle.  As Don lay there gasping for breath binoculars imprinted in his chest with a turkey staring at him eye to eye he earned the nickname of the turkey wrestler.  If there was a wounded bird Don would not stop until it was under him Kirk joked at Don’s expense.

The next morning we hiked the ranch in hopes of cutting tracks.  Anytime we would finish trudging over a section of Kansas wind blown drifts Don would always turn around with two fingers held high and a big ol’ grin on his face, “Only two more miles.”   It was his standard response to tired men when completing drills.  Occasionally, Don would say, “Let’s take a knee,”- to rest, catch our breath, or to stop sweating in the cold.  Two days into the hunt Kirk admits he was a little nervous that Don might work us into the ground like he does his men.  It wasn’t uncommon for hunters to quit on Don, too tired to move on.

The blizzard had changed all turkey habits leaving us to do a great deal of glassing on foot and by vehicle to locate birds.  As we drove around I sat in the back seat of the “zebra” H2 Hummer listening to Don tell stories about his men and his role in the army as he answered our many questions.  I could feel his chest swell with pride in the emotion of his words.  Once in awhile a member of his family would call to get updates on our hunt.  Every conversation ended with kisses and him saying I love you with utmost sincerity.  In the context of knowing the amount of time they had spent apart from each other serving our country I realized how much of a luxury it was for him to say, “I love you,” and how important it was to end every conversation with these words, no matter how often they spoke.

Thanks to generosity of a Kansas farmer, Mr. Chaffee we were given enthusiastic permission to remove a couple turkeys from his bean field.  Belly crawling the last 10 yards behind a clump of dirt we laid there prone for 70 minutes waiting for something to happen.  At one point Tom turned to me whispering, “When Don says go, jump up and start shooting.”  I just rolled me eyes.  I was frozen stiff with my arms extended with muscles well past fatigue from trying to keep my muzzle out of the snow. I didn’t know if I could lift my barrel off the ground high enough to shoot a bird let alone jump up.  When we were back at the lodge that evening I asked Don about this plan.  He exclaimed, “I was pulling his leg!  Good thing I didn’t say go.”  We all had a good laugh.

Thankfully, we didn’t jump up.  I lay there with my hair working it’s way out of my hat into my eyes until a group of hens were about to bust us.  Tom pulled the trigger first, scattering shot at the confused hen’s feet.  We both had to roll over to pump our guns back into action with much struggle.  Don took off after the birds herding them back to us.  I can only imagine he had experience taking off like that in Iraq because I never saw him go.  As a group flew back over our heads I harvested a Rio Eastern hybrid hen in a poof of feathers.  We joked with Don that he should add occasional turkey herder to his guide resume.

Next day, we asked permission to sneak across another area to the same bean field to avoid many snow drifts.  We got out to the field a little late after listening to Mr. Sherbert recount his entire gun deer season to us, a true country character in his own right.  Two –thirds the way to the field three hens spooked across the way and flew directly into the spot we had intended to wait the incoming flock.  Now we had to quickly come up with plan B.  We sat down in a large snow covered brush pile.  Within minutes turkeys were entering the field, gradually scratched all around us, but never came in shot range.

There we sat perfectly still for 2 hours and 15 minutes.  When we finally got a chance to belly crawl out Don had been shivering uncontrolled for a good hour.  We were all cold but Don was the coldest.  It was all he could do to talk as his jaw chattered.  He wanted us to sneak up on some snow covered brush where the turkeys last passed.

When we arrived at the drift Don did a quick peek and scurried back to us.  Wide eyed he gave the orders, “get up there, jump up, and start shooting.  Not joking!”  The wind had worked in our favor covering the sounds of our footsteps across the crunchy frozen snow.  He wasn’t kidding they were feet from us on the other side.  There was no time to find a good beard in the bunch before they began to scatter.  We had all endured the torture of feeling a stick up our rear too long to not harvest a bird from this panicked flock.  Tom connected with a hen and rolled her.  Don was halfway around the brush to recover her before we had our guns down.

We continued to storm the hillside behind.  We were motivated.  I was sent to the left and Tom went to the right with Don.  The turkeys were at the bottom on the right too far for a good shot.  Just then a couple birds flushed next to Tom.  He shot; a bird hung in a hover, glided a moment, and then dropped from the sky.  Don was after it instantly.  Fortunately, the Jake wasn’t as dead as he had thought.  Once again highly trained Command Sergeant Major got to use his turkey wrestling skills to put a life ending choke hold on the flapping winged beast.  By the time Tom had rounded me up and got back to Don he was sprawled out sitting down against an old stone barn foundation with a bird on either side looking mighty exhausted.  As he said many times since we arrived, “this is the hardest I have ever worked for a turkey!”

We continued to drive, glass, and sneak on birds but never crossed another turkey.  We got to know Don well in those three days riding in his “zebra” pushing him to his limits of frustration trying to find a trophy Rio in the snow.  The love Don expressed for those that serve beside him in the military, his family, and hunting were seamless in all of his conversations.  How much of it was real or just talk, it didn’t matter.  It was all good to me.

The sincere generosity and hospitality of both Don and Kirk were exceptional.  They made a hard hunt enjoyable.  The military stories of sacrifice and the manner of pride in which they were told spoke greatly of the character of these men.  Mostly, I left Kansas filled with a love of family, country, and hunting experienced in the shadows of Fort Riley.

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

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