Hunting. The word is evocative, is it not? Animals? People? Lost things? Here are accounts of the last two seasons, where I talk about why I hunt and about the hunting itself, but I'm in more of a philosophical mood this evening.
I spent the weekend in a tree. Well, propped up against a tree, really, but certainly out there in the woods. Spending intentional time like that, for hours on end, is an experience unparalleled by anything else I can think of at the moment. Certainly not by anything that's part of my day-to-day existence. I mean think of it. Have you ever tried standing still for an entire day? Two days in a row?
My brain unfocuses. I find my thoughts wandering between a mix of the following: any discomfort I'm feeling (aching muscles, cold feet, wet hands from brushing snow off the stand... you get the idea). Missed opportunities with the deer I've seen so far (how could I have done that differently? How would I do it now if it happened again?). Imagining deer coming toward my stand (it's weird - sometimes you feel that if you just wish hard enough, it will happen. Of course, it never really does!) Praying - for the other hunters to get deer, for myself to get a deer, for life stuff, for people I care about. Re-running movies in my head. Singing songs in my head. Watching wildlife - this time around it was a mix of nuthatches, squirrels, chickadees, woodpeckers, a bald eagle, and (the highlight!) snow geese. I didn't know they were snow geese till later when Javier identified them for me... but so cool to see non-native birds migrating through! Trying to decide if it's time to mix things up - am I getting cold enough to need to walk around? Should I eat something? How much longer should I wait for something to happen before doing something different? Thinking about my Dad... it goes with the territory this time of year. And then...
I hear something. Maybe it's a clump of snow falling, so I listen for a pattern. Mmmh, there is a pattern, but what kind of pattern is it? Leaves rustling in discrete bunches of sound? I stare intently at the woods in the direction of the sound...and sure enough. It's a tiny squirrel making big noise. [wait an hour or two]. Ok, this time there's a pattern... but it's TOO regular. Clump, clump, clump, SNAP, clump, clump. Sure enough, over the rise appears a bright orange hat, face, jacket, gun and boots. One of my fellow hunters got cold and decided it was time to try to "kick something up". We wave/hand signal/maybe chat quietly a bit and he moves on. After ten minutes, the woods quiet down again. [wait another hour or so]. Ok, I'm hearing another pattern...it's moving fast, it kind of "thunks", it starts and pauses and then goes very fast, and yep, I can sees something interfering slightly with the dark-and-white immovable starkness of the trees. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a deer. Or two. Or four. Now we have only to hope-hope-hope that it moves our way. That there are horns so we can try filling the buck tag.
With ALL of the above scenarios, my heart starts beating faster, I try quietly positioning myself in a way that will give an optimal shot from where I hear the sound, and I start shaking (cold? Adrenaline? Both?). If it turns out not to be a deer, all of this subsides. If it IS a deer, and if I shoot it (didn't happen this year), I might stay in my stand for five minutes, waiting for the trembling to subside before I trust muscles to take me safely down from my stand. And then it's time to track the deer, gut it, and figure out how to drag it to the nearest trail. See what I mean when I say this weekend is just so far out of the normal for my suburban, life?
I'm not sure I could make a case for any actual short or long term benefits of stepping out of "regular life" per se, but I can say I just love having the opportunity to do so?
I really loved, too, the hang out time with family and friends. Marc, Javier and I were again the Appleton contingent, and we had a nice drive back and forth, a really nice time with Dean, Dar, cousins Keith and Scott, and Scott's daughter Jessica. We ate great food (thanks Dar and Jenny!) played a ton of Smear, and laughed and laughed. None of us shot a deer (a first for us :( ), but still just had a great time being together and being out in the woods. And...just as Javier, Marc and I were about to leave, my third cousin Eric shot a buck he didn't need and asked if I wanted to tag it. Heck yes I did! I went to where he was and was able to catch up a bit with a bunch more of the guys that I've hunted with since I was in high school...good times. Good times AND venison to eat for the coming year - life is good.
Showing posts with label hunting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hunting. Show all posts
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Da tirty point buck
Javier (yes, it's an alias), Marc, and I were the deer hunting contingent from the Appleton area this year. Things actually started a couple of weekends ago, though, with Tom, Jason, Marc and I heading over to Uncle Dean and Aunt Dar's place to check out the situation with regard to deer stands and get the lay of the land. We had a great time with them, tromping around the family farm, hearing stories, playing cards, and just generally having a nice time. Don't you just love that when different sets of people that you love get to meet each other?
So this Friday afternoon, Marc, Javier and I headed west. We got there pretty much at the same time my cousin (Dean & Dar's son) Keith did. I hadn't seen him for a couple years, so it was great to hang around, play cards, catch up, and look over a map of the land to figure out the trail network. Unfortunately Dar just found out that her brother Rich has been hospitalized with a serious case of walking pneumonia... so that meant things were a little more serious than they might have been. (He was doing ok - at least not worse - when she visited him on Saturday, so we're all hoping he pulls through.)
Saturday morning light quickly found us in our tree stands and ready to go. I was in the same stand as last year, and I just love it. It's placed right at the junction between a lake and a swamp, so there was all sorts of activity when I was there. Maybe 20 minutes after I was in and settled, a black bear came from the facing hill and between the bodies of water, crossing in front of me and heading back up the Big Hill. Not much later, an otter came up from the swamp, meandered to the lake, and then also pattered its way in front of me. Marc even got to see it, as he was using the next stand up that my cousin Scott used last year! Maybe half an hour later, a big buck came down the opposite hill and I took a shot, missed, and then got him with the second shot. He's the biggest buck I've ever gotten! Since this was Marc's first year hunting, he came over to help me field dress it so he could get an idea of how that works (unfortunately, when you do it as seldom as I do, it just isn't as neat or straightforward as it is in the hunting manuals!). I helped Marc drag it closer to the trail, and we returned to our stands.
Maybe an hour later, a smaller buck came down from the Big Hill, passed Marc (but not close enough for a good shot), and came in front of me. It was moving at a pretty strong pace, and in retrospect I should have waited for a better shot myself. I ended up wounding it - but not badly enough to slow it down. So for the next three or four hours I tracked that deer. At one point, I thought it was done as the trail crossed another one where a deer had been taken and field dressed. I looked around a bit, though, and figured out that my deer had merely crossed the path of the other one, and hadn't been taken himself. I suppose that makes sense in retrospect, but trying to figure that out from the trail was pretty non-straightforward! Maybe half way through Uncle Dean came after me as we weren't sure which direction it was heading and he was worried about me ending up wandering forever in the hinterlands of northern Wisconsin. That deer had a sense of humor though - it ended up, after much wandering, looping back around the end of that swamp, coming back along the Big Hill, and essentially crossing it's own trail from where I had originally first seen it! Eventually the trail played out, and Uncle Dean was pretty sure it wasn't hurt that badly: seriously wounded deer generally only go down hill, and this one had no problem going up and down and all around - and even buddied up with a couple of does along the way! It makes me sick to my stomach to think of a wounded deer suffering, so I sincerely hope that deer is fine, or else is taken by another hunter soon.
As we were following the trail back along the Big Hill, Marc saw us and came and joined in on the end of our tracking adventure. We headed back to Dean's cabin to warm up, chill out, and regroup before the last push for the evening. Javier joined us for a bit, and then the three of us headed back to our stands. Maybe an hour before sundown I got cold, and decided to do a loop to see if I could kick anything up for Marc or Javier (who was now in my stand). And sure enough, I think that's what happened! A big buck - bigger than the one I had gotten earlier! - surprised Marc as he was starting up a hand warmer. He took a quick shot and missed, but his shot alerted Javier. Javier saw it running into view, and then stop - behind a group of trees. He waited and it stepped forward...and he dropped it.
He field dressed it as the sun was setting, and Dean brought out his ATV so he could drag both of our deer out for us. And so ended a big but exhausting opening day. We headed in to warm up, went out to eat, played more cards, and hit the sack!
Things were unfortunately much quieter this morning. We had hoped to get a deer for Marc, and another deer for Amy. But we only saw two deer between the three of us, in spite of standing quietly for roughly five and a half hours. Have I mentioned before that hunting really isn't a sure thing? If nothing else, it sure made us grateful for all the fun we'd had and deer we'd seen yesterday. Thankfully, Keith had helped bring in a doe that had been wounded yesterday, and since he didn't need the meat, they gave that one to Marc. So we'll all have meat in our freezers this year!
(picture of me, Keith, Aunt Dar and Uncle Dean - I think we were all pretty zoned out!)
We took off around noon, hung around the house for the first half of the Packer-Viking game, and now are on the road back to Appleton. So, who's coming over for venison?
So this Friday afternoon, Marc, Javier and I headed west. We got there pretty much at the same time my cousin (Dean & Dar's son) Keith did. I hadn't seen him for a couple years, so it was great to hang around, play cards, catch up, and look over a map of the land to figure out the trail network. Unfortunately Dar just found out that her brother Rich has been hospitalized with a serious case of walking pneumonia... so that meant things were a little more serious than they might have been. (He was doing ok - at least not worse - when she visited him on Saturday, so we're all hoping he pulls through.)
Saturday morning light quickly found us in our tree stands and ready to go. I was in the same stand as last year, and I just love it. It's placed right at the junction between a lake and a swamp, so there was all sorts of activity when I was there. Maybe 20 minutes after I was in and settled, a black bear came from the facing hill and between the bodies of water, crossing in front of me and heading back up the Big Hill. Not much later, an otter came up from the swamp, meandered to the lake, and then also pattered its way in front of me. Marc even got to see it, as he was using the next stand up that my cousin Scott used last year! Maybe half an hour later, a big buck came down the opposite hill and I took a shot, missed, and then got him with the second shot. He's the biggest buck I've ever gotten! Since this was Marc's first year hunting, he came over to help me field dress it so he could get an idea of how that works (unfortunately, when you do it as seldom as I do, it just isn't as neat or straightforward as it is in the hunting manuals!). I helped Marc drag it closer to the trail, and we returned to our stands.
Maybe an hour later, a smaller buck came down from the Big Hill, passed Marc (but not close enough for a good shot), and came in front of me. It was moving at a pretty strong pace, and in retrospect I should have waited for a better shot myself. I ended up wounding it - but not badly enough to slow it down. So for the next three or four hours I tracked that deer. At one point, I thought it was done as the trail crossed another one where a deer had been taken and field dressed. I looked around a bit, though, and figured out that my deer had merely crossed the path of the other one, and hadn't been taken himself. I suppose that makes sense in retrospect, but trying to figure that out from the trail was pretty non-straightforward! Maybe half way through Uncle Dean came after me as we weren't sure which direction it was heading and he was worried about me ending up wandering forever in the hinterlands of northern Wisconsin. That deer had a sense of humor though - it ended up, after much wandering, looping back around the end of that swamp, coming back along the Big Hill, and essentially crossing it's own trail from where I had originally first seen it! Eventually the trail played out, and Uncle Dean was pretty sure it wasn't hurt that badly: seriously wounded deer generally only go down hill, and this one had no problem going up and down and all around - and even buddied up with a couple of does along the way! It makes me sick to my stomach to think of a wounded deer suffering, so I sincerely hope that deer is fine, or else is taken by another hunter soon.
As we were following the trail back along the Big Hill, Marc saw us and came and joined in on the end of our tracking adventure. We headed back to Dean's cabin to warm up, chill out, and regroup before the last push for the evening. Javier joined us for a bit, and then the three of us headed back to our stands. Maybe an hour before sundown I got cold, and decided to do a loop to see if I could kick anything up for Marc or Javier (who was now in my stand). And sure enough, I think that's what happened! A big buck - bigger than the one I had gotten earlier! - surprised Marc as he was starting up a hand warmer. He took a quick shot and missed, but his shot alerted Javier. Javier saw it running into view, and then stop - behind a group of trees. He waited and it stepped forward...and he dropped it.
He field dressed it as the sun was setting, and Dean brought out his ATV so he could drag both of our deer out for us. And so ended a big but exhausting opening day. We headed in to warm up, went out to eat, played more cards, and hit the sack!
Things were unfortunately much quieter this morning. We had hoped to get a deer for Marc, and another deer for Amy. But we only saw two deer between the three of us, in spite of standing quietly for roughly five and a half hours. Have I mentioned before that hunting really isn't a sure thing? If nothing else, it sure made us grateful for all the fun we'd had and deer we'd seen yesterday. Thankfully, Keith had helped bring in a doe that had been wounded yesterday, and since he didn't need the meat, they gave that one to Marc. So we'll all have meat in our freezers this year!
(picture of me, Keith, Aunt Dar and Uncle Dean - I think we were all pretty zoned out!)
We took off around noon, hung around the house for the first half of the Packer-Viking game, and now are on the road back to Appleton. So, who's coming over for venison?
Monday, December 14, 2009
guns, germs and steel
In the book Guns, Germs and Steel, Jared Diamond hypothesizes that those who domesticated plants and animals early got a head start on developing technology, weapons, and immunity to germs. It's an interesting theory. While I have not myself knowingly domesticated any plants or animals, I must have forebears who did. So far this season I have not fallen to H1N1 or the flu (in spite of not being able to get the immunizations- lovely egg allergy!), I've had more fun with technology at work and at home than ever (we're planning all sorts of cool Web 2.0 stuff for next year and I finally have gps/internet/texting on my phone), and uh, I've used weapons to kill stuff that I plan to eat. That third item is not nearly as straightforward as you might think, but it is a part of my heritage, and I really feel privileged to be able to do it - so I think I'll tell you this year's saga. [picture: me sighting in my 30-30 last year at a range my step-dad Tim set up]
Our story begins back this past spring when an old gunsmith tried to teach a new gunsmith new tricks - with my "baby", a 30-30 rifle that I've hunted with since I was 14. They took it apart to look at it and put on a new scope for me. Once that was done it needed some planning to get it sighted in with the new scope because the shooting range around here is expensive and life is busy. So my friend Javier (he went hunting with me this year) and I headed to to Iron River, and planned while we were there to sight it in at a range that a guy just lets people use. (Un?)fortunately, some guys we met there noticed that the barrel was *wiggling* in the stock - (of course, after I'd wasted some ammo) so all the sighting in in the world would do it no good; it needed a gunsmith. Thankfully, that night we were visiting my dad's family, and my cousin Scott - a great person, and - conveniently - a gunsmith - took a look at it and tightened it right up. Unfortunately, the gun now needed again to be sighted in, so the only option was to do it back around here. It turned out that the weekend before opening day was the only one that worked for both me and Javier. Almost as soon as we were set up this guy - we'll call him Buzz - came up and started criticizing the way we were doing things (he meant to be helpful, but it sounded a lot like, "why are you doing that? why don't you just go do this? those f-ers [other shooters] are always doing things wrong here. What's with people putting this off till the last minute?"). After blowing more ammo and missing the target completely, Buzz asked why I didn't just go back and have "Fred" bore sight the gun. I didn't know there was a Fred, but I took him up on it. Fred was kind and got it all set up, so I brought the gun back out and STILL was completely missing the target. I think that's the point where I started to get really upset. I'm pretty serious about being a decently accurate shot (you just can't mess around with that stuff). Buzz doesn't know me from Adam, so has no idea that this isn't normal behavior for me or this gun, and he just kept picking on everything we were doing. Finally - after aiming exactly at the top of the target and hitting the bottom (but at least being able to see where it was going), trying to manually adjust for that and getting nothing but MORE criticism from Buzz, I headed back to Fred again. This time he bore-sighted inaccurately, but based on what I told him... and it worked. So now I'm within 4 inches at 100 yards, which is not nearly where I'd like to be, but for the kind of hunting I do, good enough. I was trembling and upset, so it for sure wasn't going to get more accurate at that point, anyway.[picture: my stand, when Javier, Dean and I were checking it out last year]
After a while it got light, and the woodpeckers started to work and the chickadees, ducks and ravens decided to let the world know they were around too. At one point I heard a rushing right on the tree behind me and realized that a squirrel had been at the top of it and had had to go by me to get down. I think he scared me way more than I scared him! I saw a few deer far off, and then I heard something to my left.
A small buck was going by at about 75 yards - and he was wounded. So I didn't have a great shot but since he wasn't going to make it I wanted to try to put him out of his misery. I shot twice and thought I hit him but wasn't sure. My cousin Scott had heard the shots so he came over and we found blood and were able to track the deer down. Another hunter, Jerry, actually put him down, and I ended up gutting and tagging him. I had bought a doe tag as Amy was hoping for extra venison this year, and I had asked Javier to take a doe if he had a clean shot (I really don't like killing things if I don't have to!) so just as we were on our way back Javier radioed me that he needed my doe tag! Turns out he'd had a nice clean shot at a doe at nearly 100 yards and had taken her with a minimum of fuss. After that I headed back to my stand. More waiting, a few more does going by, a bit of sandwich and hot cocoa, and more waiting. Probably around 2:00 or so I saw some does running along a hill opposite me. Another deer came down from the top of the hill toward them and all five deer started heading my way. And that other deer was a decent-sized buck! They slowed a bit as they got closer, and as the buck was around 50 yards away, he paused just long enough for me to squeeze off a shot. He didn't get much further than that - though he did make me nervous as I couldn't see him when he fell and a different deer took off from that spot. I would have felt terrible if I had wounded him. But he was dead when I got to him, so there was another one to gut and drag out! I wish I could say I got better at that with practice... the gutting, I mean. I didn't have to do the dragging (that's why you go hunting with boys!).
And a note about "the killing of innocent animals". I hate killing things. I particularly don't like seeing them suffer. Since those things happen when we hunt, I might as well explain myself! I'm a big fan of eating venison: good, natural, lean meat. And since, if there is not herd control of some sort by humans, nature will do it herself in more brutal ways - disease and starvation - I'd rather get food that will be appreciated out of the deal. And aside from the actual killing there is so much that's fun about hunting. Hanging and playing cards with my cousins and Aunt Dar, hearing stories from the hunting crew, tramping about the woods doing drives with other hunters, thinking about my dad, sitting silently in the woods and just enjoying the beauty and wildlife... and the feeling of independence that comes with knowing how to use weapons to provide food that you and your friends and family will enjoy... ah! I hope our family never loses the tradition. So, let me know when you're coming over and I'll put some venison to thaw!
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