Nebraska: I bow to you in reverance

I find it pleasing to be sitting in my hotel room with my pending arrival home set for tomorrow morning. Like many of you I'm worn out from all things hunting over the past several weeks. The Rut for the most part is over and I'm as beat as the bucks who've survived the season.

After our 5 1/2 day archery trip in Ohio my friend Rich and I set out for Nebraska, 9 days to hunt however 8 days were about 5 to many. A sort of success came early as I tagged a lesser buck on opening morning followed by a focus on getting Rich his first Mulie Buck. That was a success as well. All in all I'd say it was a great trip.

Our mornings came early as there was much travel to do just to arrive at our hunting locations. About half of the week was spent on public land and the other on either of two small ranches that we hunt. My buck (attached) was harvested on public land. There was an air of uncertainty for me on this trip, I just couldn't shake the feeling that this may be the last trip to what I call my home for a fall hunt. It has all changed and yet stayed so hauntingly familiar. I cherish my memories and often remember and relive those I've forgotten as we travel from one place to another. Every building, every road and every person seems to have a past point in time where I shared something special. It's like that: hunting. Once you've been to a blind or tree stand for the first time, the second seems like you've been there for ever.

I don't claim that anyone can travel to Nebraska, hunt and then share my feelings, they are deep rooted in what was and what will be. Being raised in and yet somehow taking for granted an area like the Platte River Bottom can make a man prideful and complete and just as fast: lonely and distant. I miss the area as it was and I long for the days that have been.

We hooked up with an old friend of mine, Ben. We met opening morning along a road and headed down to the dock to load his boat in the reservoir we were to hunt that day. I remember the chill in the air and how it made the boat spray feel like ice chips. The sun was somewhere over Iowa and heading our way but hadn't quite fully committed to assisting us. Three grown men, an aluminum boat and a much too small motor plowing along at warp -3 speed. If we'd gone any slower we still wouldn't be there. The chill was on, the deer were moving and we were finally hunting once again. I'll not go into details as this blog is more about the things we miss then the things we get, moments shared in quiet solitude in a vast state.

Imagine if you will a morning, just about day break with the sound of ducks whistling overhead. In the distance a flock of Canadian Geese sound off as if to let everyone know they are coming. The anticipation of the mornings hunt, the inconvenience of the preparation work and the thoughts of massive antlers and big bodied deer being overruled by the cold. It's Nebraska, the corn is still being picked, the soybeans are all but harvested and the hay fields look like lawns. As my brother once described it: miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles! Thousands of hunters out on opening day and we saw about 10 of them.

With 4 of our 5 deer harvested we were in combat mode, Rich and Ben left no tree unexplored, no valley unreached and no hilltop not looked from. I have to say that they did their leg work on this trip! I took a picture of Rich atop a Nebraskan sand hill and promptly named it: Rich's Happy Place, if you look closely you'll see some Fluorescent Orange in the top center of the picture.

Being a retired military guy I've traveled a bit in my life. I've had opportunity to hunt in many of our great states, 13 in all. I love Iowa, Oklahoma and Texas however they don't possess that which possesses me: my home. Nebraska is a funny sort, she demands you hunt ethically and yet begs you through opportunity to do that which isn't allowed. She talks to your conscience while afield, temps your every desire and taunts you with the strange and unusual: how many of you have stood staring at a porcupine sleeping sprawled out on a limb? Shoot a buck, watch a badger, now that's hunting! The people there are friendly, down to earth and ready to lend a helping hand; but not until you've tried to help yourself!

I can see it all leaving, it's changing slowly but surely, one of the ranches I hunt will be set up for guided hunts starting next fall, the draw of money has finally gotten to what I call the last great frontier. Commercialism once again will erase all that was and soon a deer will be harvested by those with the financial means and not by those who would appreciate all that it is.

To that point I say: Thank You Nebraska, for all that you've given me over the years. I tip my hat to you and your people. I bow to you in reverence and I weep for your tomorrow.

Gunning

I spent a good part of today assisting my Father-in-Law with getting a car titled, registered and insured. I love spending time with Poppy, it's sometimes surreal. I guess that the key to the conversation is that Poppy will be 85 years old this coming Thursday. Yes: 85, and he still drives. My wife and I can see the slow deterioration of his memory and abilities, his math isn't quite what it used to be. Healthy as can be for his age however not all things are seen from the outside. When I first met Wendy, we were both looking to land somewhere, just simply land. There was something about her that I hadn't seen in most women I've dated, honesty, straight forward, a bit naive however extremely knowledgeable. I guess settled would be a good word to describe her. I was all but settled, you couldn't sit me still long enough to get a haircut: and I'm bald! She is very much like her father. I arrived at Wendy's house to pick her up, her father wondered out the door, took one look at my car and noticed that there was no license plate on the front. That was my first meeting with the man that is now my Father-in-Law and my friend. Not so many words, a bit point blank, willing to listen to your response, black and white! That's illegal isn't it, he asked: no explanation would suffice. There's a part of Poppy that comes out every once in a while and it takes me back, back to a simpler time, back to my childhood as it were. Poppy gave me 2 double barreled shotguns that he had hidden away. One was his the other his fathers. He then began to speak of: Gunning! Although he wasn't raised quite as deep on the country as I was he did however experience hunting with his father, gunning they called it. Pheasant, quail, the occasional rabbit. A simpler time in a simpler place. What I noticed most was the gleam in his eye as he talked, talked about gunning. Almost like it was a place in time and there was nothing else there but he and his father. I miss those days! I often think back to the beginning of all of this madness, somewhere around 12 years old, a single shot 4.10 and my Dad. We never called it gunning out in the mid-west, at least not as I recall. We called it hunting, I'm sure that it was the same thing. I sit here tonight surrounded by hunting equipment, clothes, paperwork, arrows and mounts and I can't help but wish in some small way I could go back, back to being 12 and being there with my father walking the fields and sitting in the blinds. I'm torn between being blessed to have had the opportunity and being cursed for a memory that I can never relive. I snuck out to the safe today and took a quick look at the double barrels in the back corner. I touched one as if to say thanks, thanks for taking Poppy to that place with his father. Thanks for giving a kid from Nebraska and a kid from New Jersey something in common that comes from the soul. Hunting is much more for me than an event, it's a place where there is no wrong. If the weather is bad that's a good thing, if you don't get anything it doesn't matter and if you share it with someone else it lasts a lifetime. In 8 days I head out for an Ohio archery hunt. I'll be sharing the experience with my hunting buddy and friend Rich. My thoughts are more on him harvesting a deer than on me harvesting a deer, but then that's hunting for me. It will no doubt be yet another moment in time that when its over can never be relived, just remembered. Like I'll always remember Poppy: my Father-in-Law, my friend!

Where to go Next?

Lately it has dawned on me that many of you have hunting grounds that you return to on an annual basis. I'm wondering how I missed that boat in my life. I've had countless opportunities to purchase a track of hunting land and/or lock down a lease, however I don't think that's the kind of hunter that I am. Each fall, this one is no different, I look forward to my upcoming hunts as well as into the future. I'm always looking for something new to do however I'm the kind of guy who likes to go with a known. I've hunted in at least 13 of these United States and 1 providence in Canada. Given the chance to return to any of those areas I think I'd lean towards repeating my past actions. At the same time I'm being eaten alive inside with the idea of finding a new and remote possibility. This morning for instance I'm looking into Montana Mule Deer hunting. I'd like to find a remote area, a cheap backwoods hotel and just spend my evenings listening to the elders of the region talk about what they've seen in their day. I somehow long for a wilderness hunt, red plaid jacket, wool pants and a bombers cap. I just long for the Teddy Roosevelt days! My wife lovingly reminds me that "I often wish my life away", she feels that I spend too much time in tomorrow and not enough in today. I would have to agree with her on that point, however it's the dreaming that keeps me hunting. I have 13 days till I sit a stand in Ohio with Long Bow in tow. I've already lived the entire hunt in my mind, I know where the deer will come from, where he'll be when I loose my arrow and where he'll fall.....and then it's on to Nebraska! There's an underside to me that is only noted by few. I'm not in this hunting game for the harvest, I'm in it for the game! I spent a 10 year period hunting New Jersey, Nebraska, Pennsylvania and Michigan and didn't kill a deer: not one! I can tell you this though, there's a lot of deer out there that would have been dead should I have pulled the trigger or loosed the arrow! One in particular stands out, I was hunting a stand in New Jersey when a nice east coast 8 point (4x4) walked under my stand. I drew my bow, took aim and said: Boo! I think he's still running. In my mind the hunt was successful, I did the work, engaged the plan and beat a Wiley buck in his own home. Another was a smaller buck in Michigan. My long time friend and my wedding best man Scott and I camped on some state land in Michigan, set up some stands and a hunting we did go. I placed the upper half of my climber on a tree just about 2 feet off the ground, sat in it and watched a swamp below my ridge line placement. A not so smart 6 point (3x3) keep hanging around and hanging around. At one point he was no more than 15 feet from me, not a care in the world. My sights were on him, my safety off and again: Boo! I don't' have to harvest a deer to be a successful hunter. I was just as successful as anyone else that day. I wish more people would see it that way. It's raining again today, this hasn't been much of a week to keep the hunting coals burning. There's a warm front coming, Indian summer for sure. My only hope is that this colder wet weather has assisted in kicking off the rut. My bags are packed, inventoried and readied for my trip. I can't believe that I'm saying this but I'm growing weary of shooting my bow at a target! I grow more excited everyday about shooting my bow in the field! Should I come home from Ohio empty handed I won't mind a bit, this is my first ever hunt with a long bow. I've found solice in the bow purchase, trip planning and practice. I'm settled in my soul. I'm looking forward too but not expecting anything out of this trip except some quality time with a hunting buddy, a good nights sleep and seeing those little things afield that you'd never see if you didn't go there! With all that's at hand I'm resetting my sights on: Where to go Next!

The Smell of Dusty Grass

I can't believe that it's been almost a year since I last stepped foot afield. Since my return from the Midwest, empty handed last fall, the time has just flown by. Work has been busier than ever and with the travel that I do it always seems like there's somewhere to go. I no longer wake up in the mornings during a hunt and sit riveted in my chair waiting to get into my stand, there's always time it seems. Very few times have I gotten in and set up to have a buck within range in only minutes: so why rush? I've found it better to get in the stand just as the sun is coming up and I can see what I'm doing. In the dark I just seem to bang everything and make noises regardless of care. Deer being nocturnal can see me anyway, so again I ask: why rush? I have my Ohio hunt pretty much in hand and have found myself thinking more and more about my Nebraska hunt. Last fall I laid back in hopes of seeing a few of my east coast friends harvest a mid-western buck. two did, one should have! I spent much of my day sitting in the truck at the end of a draw patiently waiting to hear the echo of a rifle shot ring down the valley. Time spent like that gives you time to reflect. I was sitting by a windmill at the end of a 1 mile long prairie dog town, the wind was light, it was about 10am. Naturally a nap would have satisfied the moment however I was spending too much time thinking. I was thinking of my father, my life and my past hunting years and experiences. I somehow seem never satisfied in the moment and spend much of my time planning the next move. But not on this day, it was the stillest my soul has been in some time. Sitting there in the truck that morning knowing that there was simply no chance at all that a buck would surprise me allowed me to let my guard down a bit. My thought's came closer to my surroundings and weren't focused out at 300+ yards in anticipation, and it hit me. There was the smell of dusty grass in the air. As I stared out across the valley I noted that there was nothing between the river and I but several miles of field grass. For some reason at that moment: I knew I was home! In 28 days I return to those fields of grass and will once again feel that settled feeling however this year is different, I'm going to hunt! With a friend in tow I'll be making the 1800 mile trek out to my favorite place and even though my direction is to get him his first mule deer, I'd better not see it first..lol! This year, I have the itch! This evening as I write I'm almost overcome with depression, I'm growing tired of waiting for the season to open. I've prepared this year like never before and have for the first time completed preparation a month early, now I'm bored! I still feel the need to share emails and talk about the season to come. My thoughts turn to antlers as soon as my head hits the pillow at night and I can't sleep. I've played out every possible scenario in my head, I know where the buck will come from, how I'll prep for the shot, heck: I can tell you where he's going to lay down and take his last breath. I have way too much time on my hands! For those of you who have already began your fall hunting expeditions I'm sure that the reality of hunting has set in. The opportunities come too few and too far between. For me, I'm still in get up and go mode. I'm tired of practicing, I'm tired of washing clothes and I'm tired of packing and unpacking. I'm tired of waiting, I need to hunt soon! In 23 days I'll sit for the first time this fall in a tree stand, bow in hand, anticipating the days events. For me that's 23 days of agony, sleeplessness and tossing and turning. At this point I think I should just pick up my hunting gear and walk to Ohio, at least I'd be doing something related to the hunt. In the meantime I'll just keep surfing the web for things to buy, mostly things I don't need or already have and forgot. Much of my time will be in anticipation of the day I climb aboard my friends new F250 and head west. I am prepared and ready to go, just getting a little bored waiting for the day. It's the smell of dusty grass that tells me I'm where I'm suppose to be, Ohio or Nebraska, the grass smells the same that time of year. The rains have all but stopped, the winds rule the day and the winters snow is heading our way but not quite here yet. All of that leads to the smell of the dusty grass!

It's all about the Long Bow

There are very few days reference hunting that aren't memorable in one way or another. It may be the weather that day, something you saw while afield or just a conversation about which UV killer soap your using on your hunting clothes. I couldn't begin to recall all that has happened so I'm glad that God gives it to me a little at a time, a memory here and there if you will. I haven't forgotten, just improperly filed them. I suffer from "sometimers" disease and often need a kicker to set a memory in motion.

There are of course those days that stand out above the rest: your first rifle or shotgun. If your like me it applies to your: second, third, forth and so on rifles or shotguns as well! that in mind I'm thinking that yesterday will stand out as an individual memory for me, one that may never be duplicated, one that may not be matched in spirit.

As noted in earlier blogs it was my friend Rich who started me on my journey with long bows. He shared one of his so I could learn, invited me to join him on Thursday night shoots at the local club and encouraged me when I had questions, or should I say "humoured' me. Once the bug had bitten the compound was semi-retired and a long bow was the new future. As I also noted in prior blogs: a gentleman by the name of Leon Stewart, a bowyer, frequented the club and quickly gained my trust, soooooo, I did the only thing any logical hunter like me would do, I commissioned a Leon Stewart Long Bow!

I've struggled throughout my early life with all things spiritual, the idea of religion, Bibles and God were a bit out of my reach. Being born just north of the official "Bible Belt" you'd think that by virtue of reflection I'd become what those around me had become, but no. I often queried why it was that every Sunday morning the townspeople would split up into groups and report promptly to one of four churches in town. This might not seem like much of a deal to you however in my town there was a populous of 220 people and the four churches were on the same street within one block of each other. It was possible to wave to your school chum as he entered his church as you were entering yours. I just didn't understand why there needed to be a difference when we were all supposedly trying to obtain the same goal.

I've come miles since then, an alcohol addiction, failed marriage, early release from the Military only to fight back into my community by overcoming my addiction for over 20 years now, returning to married life-happily this time and by getting a God given second chance at the Military for which I am now retired. All thing spiritual in nature have been opened to me and the ride has been on ever since.

I tell you that story not to point anyone in a direction but more so to set up today's story-my Leon Stewart Long Bow.

Having received a copy of Byron Ferguson's "Become the Arrow" from Rich, I found in the reading a story wherein Byron was doing a show in front of a rather large crowd, many of which were Navajo Indians. As he spoke of his long bow they would nod slightly, until: Byron was asked "why a long bow and not a recurve or compound" he promptly replied in effect-a Long Bow has a spirit-A long bow was at one time a tree standing in the forest, and anytime I go back into the forest with Long Bow in hand, I'm actually taking it home again. That statement not only caught the attention of the visitors it began a long time relationship which included them inviting Byron to hunt with them on their reservation.

Unknowingly, during the design of my bow I picked "African Wenge" wood, the African Wenge is a fine grained dark wood. I coupled the African Wenge with Curly Maple to form the face and back of the limbs. The center of the limbs, which I refer to as the backbone of the bow are made of Bamboo and the riser-Coco Bolo. The intent was to create an eye catcher that could also remain camouflaged in the woods. The form was to be broken up yet the colors should compliment each other. I have to say that Leon out did himself on this one! I decided to do some research on the woods that I had chosen and found that the African Wenge wood is native only to certain parts of Africa. The wood is revered by the Africans as having mystical powers. It is used in the making of ceremonial masks that are deemed to have spiritual powers. when I called Leon to set a pick up date Leon stated, and I quote: this bow is a real Thoroughbred, end of quote! He seemed particularly fond of the bow and I couldn't wait to get my hands on it. When I arrived at Leon's, Rich in tow, and set my eyes on the bow for the first time I was all but speechless. Somehow the only word I could muster up was-WOW-which by the way is the name of the outfitter that I'll be using the bow at for the first time. It's a real looker, distinct in nature, different from the norm and it just screams-shoot me! The bow design is a reflex-deflex lovingly named a "Slammer" by Leon. It is 64 inches in length and pulls 55 lbs at 28 inches AMO. To quote my 24 year old daughter: It's Sweetness!

This being my first, and possibly my last (NOT) Long Bow I find it hard to put into words the spiritual nature of a stick bow. I somehow feel that a whole new world of hunting has been opened to me, the commercialism is all but gone, the drive to shoot the biggest buck in the woods altered and the smell of fall seems just a little bit clearer. There is a spirit in all things Long Bow and it's something that you can't or don't feel until your committed to the sport. There is much practice required and shot choices to be made. You just can't shoot at everything that comes in, you truly have to pick ethical shots. It's an opportunity to trust God to provide you with opportunity instead of readying yourself to shoot anything within 60 yards. The realm of possibilities endless, the love of sport and measure of success altered and a spiritual connection felt with no other form of hunting equipment bonded. It truly is a settling feeling to have in hand a custom made Long Bow.

It is my hopes that this Blog is but a beginning of many to come reference all things Long Bow. Success' and failures shared alike. It's the feeling that I like to bring to the forefront, that feeling that only true hunters get, the "if it's brown it's down" venue is all but gone to me, it's no longer about all things ego, it's about all things spiritual, it's about the Long Bow!

To Larry-To my Father

If you could track back to the origin of my love for hunting, all trails would lead to my Dad. Born Merle Leland Meyer his legacy lives often not in what he did, but what he didn't do. Being raised in central Nebraska there's a long standing code, a legacy if you will, to gather and share your hunting within a tight group of friends. My father was no stranger to the game as every year the truck would be warming up, the Warn Manning stove glowing red hot and the smell of coffee being poured into a thermos. Characters was the common distinction for my fathers group, and a bunch of characters they were.

Larry had Polio as a child, his leg bore the signs, his crutches supported the mass. Armed with his smile and standing out as a leader in the group there were only few days when the hunts weren't set up to favor Larry's inability to move around.

Dave seemed to always be around when the season turned, shotgun in hand, peppermint schnapps in pocket, ready to go: we were glad to see him. There were others, no shortage of Nebraska friends in October.

As for my dad, you do the math! Radio personality, sales manager, single father. Can you say "Character"? Wound up so tight that if it weren't for us boys holding him back I think he would have screwed himself in the ground. That's where the Larry of this post comes in.

Uncle Larry I called him, an Uncle by marriage but and Uncle none-the-less. Being a generation ahead of me and one behind my Dad Larry just seemed to fit in anywhere. One of the nicest guys a fella could know! It was in my 9th Grade year, 1971 I believe. Nebraska had just won the National Championship, I was finding out what Girls were and how they worked, not a care in the world and the energy of a wound up yo-yo. I bugged Larry to take me deer hunting with him, my father had his deer hunting buddies, I wasn't one of them.

Finally the day had come: Larry picked me up at O dark thirty in the morning and off to a creek along a cornfield near Cozad Nebraska. I sat still about 15 minutes, the yo-yo came unwound and up and down the creek I went looking for the deer. I later learned that Patience is a virtue! Once I had thoroughly ruined our hunting day Larry gathered me up, bought me lunch and took me home. It was the best day ever for me!

I never got to hunt with Larry again, until. Some 30+ years later I started to yearn deer hunting out west again. It was all I could do to get time with my Dad, I finally gave up trying, not really sure that I wanted to hunt with some of the people he hunted with anyway, and before I could solidify plans, my Father passed away. It was November of 2000, he had been staying on and off with Larry and his wife Kathy, it was there, sometime in the night that my Father passed in their living room recliner.

The event brought Larry and I back together through a conversation with my brother, and my brother and I set a plan in action to join Larry on a Nebraska Deer Hunt. Some 30+ years later, I was afield for only the second time with Uncle Larry. I had brought a friend, Jim, from New Jersey out with me. Jim and I had been in business dealing and were quickly becoming friends outside of work. I was looking forward to spending some time with him out side of the contract pressures, project requirements and conference calls. We joined my brother in Weeping Water, Nebraska, sighted in rifles and headed west to Lexington.

Upon our arrival we phoned Larry to let him know we were there and at 5:00am he met us in the parking lot of the hotel. Events were set in place that day, my life would change a bit, a memory forgiven, a friend lost.

Rifle season lasts nine days in Nebraska, Saturday to the following Sunday every year. Saturday and Sunday were spent hunting, asking permission and enjoying lunches. I believe that it was Monday afternoon that Larry had a doctors appointment, he had been suffering with some shoulder and neck pains and wanted to get it checked out. Tuesday was a down sort of day and Wednesday my world changed.

Early afternoon, three vehicles driving in convoy style, Larry in the lead, Jim riding behind, my brother and I bringing up the rear. Suddenly Larry, some 1/2 mile ahead slammed on his brakes and pointed out of his driver side window, my brother and I hustled up as fast as we could to see what we figured was a deer, it was. Unfortunately someone had poached it and left it lay. We all walked out to see it up close and while standing there Larry collapsed.

I can't tell you exactly what happened to him, I don't know, all I know is that all efforts to bring him back had failed and we lost him that day. It was a long ride to Larry's that night, we had to deliver his truck and hunting equipment to his wife along with the news. My brother and I decided it was best we told her to her face, a phone call just wasn't appropriate.

I remember driving along Interstate 80 west to the Hershey exit and seeing their house there along the maintenance road. All I could think was: this woman is about to have a bomb dropped on her and she doesn't even know it's coming.

The nights events took the usual course, we found our way back to our motel rooms, I found a moment of silence. Kathy has also since left us, she passed of Cancer shortly after we lost Larry. I think it notable that my father passed in Larry's chair and in some twisted circumstances I found my way back to hunt with Larry in a field miles from anywhere where he passed. Even Kathy said that it was meant to be.

As for my father, I had no advance warning so I wasn't there when he passed, maybe this was his way of sharing it with me. An opportunity to see that Larry was properly taken care of and treated with the respect that he deserved, just as he had done for my father. I thank God for the opportunity!

There is something at work in the human heart. A day I remember, 30 years later, a shared respect in death.

I still travel to Nebraska each year as an annual event, I have a passion for those lands. I'm anchored there. There is no reward in hunting success there for me, only in the hunt itself. It's who I am.

To Larry: Thank You, thank you for all that you did for my father and for the 20+ years you hunted with him in my absence.

To my Father: May the Roads rise up to meet you, may the winds be always at your back, may the rains fall lightly on your crops, until we meet again, May God Hold You and Keep You in the Palm of his hand.

God Bless......

Security in the Sense of the Familiar

There's truly little that can be said to someone in pain that can or will wash it away. There's Love in the gesture however little or no relief. I find great discomfort in not having the words to share with a friend in a time of need. It's times like these that we once again find that we are not in charge nor do we have all of the answers to life. Situations arise that cause us to just want to collapse in the hopes that the loss will just go away. I find that my true sustainable growth has come in and from bad situations. If life were easy, we'd all live it to the fullest without regret.

It was a cool November evening, the sun had not set yet but it was bending at the knees. Atop a sand hill finger looking to the west there was a moment of silence. the breeze was light and the area was barren of trees and shrubs with only rye grass for as far as the eye can see. In the distance; a valley, in the valley; a river, not just any river, it was the South Platte River. Clouds had set in drawing a sharp line across the sky, between the clouds and river bottom lay one of the bluest skies I've ever seen.

I was standing next to three of my Pennsylvania friends, their first trip to Nebraska, the place of my very existence to me. A moment of awe, to say the least. And for that moment, all troubles were lost, all goals forgotten, and an air of thankfulness surrounds.

I wonder sometimes just how much control I have over my life. Little things pass me by, best laid plans altered in an instant, directions changed in a moments eye. I spend months and recall years of experience prior to a trip out west, yet it never turns out as I plan it too. there's sometimes comfort in the idea of a greater being and a plan that I am a part of. It's hard to recede into the crowd and hold my place whence all I feel is the drive to lead and be up front. I often forget that it's not my plan.

Atop the sand hill that day stood four grown men, all with families, two retired military, all with professions and none with an answer as to why that moment was shared that day between us. In times of need and sorrow there is found; "Security in the Sense of the Familiar". Being in our homes, driving our cars, being with loved ones, going about our routines puts us back in the plan that we are living and take us out of our own way. The only way to travel hard times is to travel them: There's no going around them!

Hunting is a place where I find comfort with all things aligned. An escape if you will from all that is in the plan I'm living. There's security there, in that field, in that moment, in that place. We've all shared that experience at one time or another. I say "Let it Be", let the moments be what they are, an opportunity to somehow share a moment with the one that has the plan, be a spectator just for a moment and know that; "everything is exactly like it is suppose to be at that moment". It doesn't make it easier, it just makes it make sense!

Hunting has become a place of security to me, a "time out" if you will. A place to reflect not of what I've lost but what I shared prior to the loss. My father will be remembered for what he did in my presence. Time shared, things said! I miss him; he was a place of security to me!

Each year I venture back in time to a place that is familiar to my soul. A place that was part of the plan laid out for me, a place that only I can feel and understand as it happens within me and not around me. In a barren field laced with crevasses and barbed wired fences, alone on top of the world it all seems to make sense to me.

We all have a similar place whether it be under a city high rise or a cottonwood tree, there's a place for each of us. Our troubles of the day will be minimized, thoughts will seem to align and the view will be clearer. Yes: There is "Security in the Sense of the Familiar".

There are troubled times tonight, a friend in need, a shared pain. When a best friend hurts we all hurt. Nothing I can say will make anything better and the best I can do is see too it that he gets to his familiar place: Afield! And see to it I will!

September is here

It's September 11th, 2009. As with any solid soldier I lowered my head in Prayer and Remembrance for the victims of terrorism in 2001. Being retired Army I find a special place in the solice of that moment. May God Bless the families of those lost, the firefighters/police and medic's that lived through the tragedy only to remember what they saw, and may he reign down heavily on those who would knowingly attack Innocent women and children.

On my ride home yesterday I saw a corn field about a mile from my house that has turned completely yellow and is ready for harvest. Yes, September is here! There is a 9 acre field of corn across the street from my house that is showing signs of turning however only the ends of the leaves have turned to the yellow that I so long for in the spring. Yes, September is here and for only the second time in the history of my hunting am I prepared for the upcoming season, I know where I'm going and what I'm doing. Usually it's this time of year when I find myself scrambling not only to find a place to hunt but also someone to hunt with. I can hardly stand the peace I feel inside this September knowing that I'm not behind the 8 ball.

Although I reside in New Jersey by chance and not by choice I still feel the calling of a mid-western fall hunt. Growing up it was not unusual for me to ride back roads on my way to and from school hunting pheasants, coyotes, quail, ducks, geese and sometimes: deer. It's no wonder that I wasn't a very good student, I think our summer break should have been in Sept, Oct, Nov and Dec. What self-respecting Nebraskan would give two hoots about June, July and Aug. Crops are planted, irrigation is nearing it's end and harvest isn't for a couple of months. If only I ruled the world!

Well it's 2009 and as I look back on missed opportunities, years not hunted and my Father who passed away in Nov of 2001 I can hardly hold the tears back. This time of year holds something near and dear to me and that's a fact. I am a mid-western boy, raised in a small town of 200 or so people, I spent time playing baseball, working on farms and ranches and hunting and fishing only to grow up longing to be back there. It's so: On November 13th, yes-Friday the 13th, I'll once again cross the western Iowa border heading into Nebraska for a fall rifle hunt. Long time friends and a simple life somehow settle all that has become of my life. It's not the same as when I was growing up, but close enough.

This fall is a bit different for me, I'm traveling with a friend and hunting buddy who for the first time shared a hunt in Nebraska with me last fall. Although neither filled tags during our trip it couldn't have been more successful! I took three of my friends out there and it proved to be quite a task keeping everyone afield and in reasonable areas. We managed with the help of my school chums and 2 of the 4 of us tagged deer, small deer but deer none the less.

This year it's just Rich and I and I'm really looking forward to nine full days of wondering aimlessly in the Nebraska Sand Hills and river bottoms not knowing what the next moment may bring. The simplicity of hunting in Nebraska never ceases to amaze me, we showed up in the latest and greatest camo worn from head to toe and my local friends showed up in CarHart overalls...lol. It was good to see Charlie and Ben again, it had been a long time coming!

Yes, it's September again and all of the hunting stores are putting out and working to sell this years newest and best camo patterns. That's what I'd like to talk about today. Every time I pick something up from the store its: new and improved! Makes me wonder first: what about last years new and improved and second: Why didn't you just do it right the first time? Is there really a company out there that spends all year working on ways to improve toothpaste? I'll admit that tongue in cheek, I have just about every style of camo that came to the marketplace in one form or another. I take so many different patterns when I travel hunt I can hardly get all of my bags in the truck. I have dark green, brown, wool, snow, urban, desert, cornfield, leafy and the list goes on. There's something that amazes me about camo, they all stick out! I have yet to lose sight of another hunter because of his camo, until last year. I'll back up a bit and say that about 10 years ago when Advantage camo came out a friend of mine wore it during an upstate PA Archery hunt. He was sitting in a tree about 75 yards from me across a small creek bottom and I couldn't see him at all: until he moved! I was pretty impressed that he had actually blended into the backdrop and disappeared at that distance. That got me thinking, I did hours and hours of research over the last several years on camo patterns by looking at the advertisements and I've noted something that I think to be true. Every picture that I saw used in some shape or form, shade or direct sun! In many of the pictures I believe that I would have lost the person in blue jeans and a white tank top! That being said I'd like to say this: In direct sun, partial or full shade, sand hills or evergreens, snow or tree tops, is there any single camo out there that performs better than ASAT-All Season, All Terrain pattern? I think not! last fall my 3 friends took a long walk down a sand hills valley in search of a whitetail and as they headed down the hill two walked the ridges and one walked the valley. Three different camo patterns, all terrains and sunlight conditions and only one seemed to blend in: Rich in his ASAT.

Although the fluorescent orange gave him away it was uncanny how that simple pattern just seems to blend in to it's surroundings no matter what they may be. I've revisited the hunts that I've been on from Saskatchewan to Texas and the times of year that I hunted from early fall to late season and I don't have a single camo pattern other than ASAT that I could have worn on everyone of those hunts. Here's the down side though: they are a bit more expensive than some brands, they are limited as to what you can buy (no more coveralls, just bibs) and they are made in the PRC-Peoples Republic of China. Another company that I'd like to see come back home!

There are however some very tasteful options with ASAT, take a look at http://www.dayonecamouflage.com/ they have some very good options such as wind sheer, etc. They also take your measurements and custom make the clothing. They aren't inexpensive but they are the best of the best! When I think of all the money that I've spent on camo clothing I could have easily just purchased a full set of everything ASAT from Day One and hunted anywhere, anytime. I'm not opposed to any other camo pattern, I just think that ASAT is the best available on the market today. But then, that's just my opinion. Happy Hunting and remember: It is September! Kevo

Longbow-Traditional Archery

I was recently talking to an outfitter in Saskatchewan and when I addressed the part about being a traditional archer (long bow) he asked a question that for some reason sat in my head for a bit and didn't register: I said that I would be hunting with a long bow and he asked: Why? Frankly I didn't have a good answer for him right off so I did what any good conversationalist would do, I changed the topic.

Having had some time to ponder I've come up with three (3) good reasons to hunt whitetail (or anything) with a long bow.
1. It's less expensive! I've been a long time member of the Cabela's fan club! As with many I'm at a point where Cabela's calls me when they are out of stock on something in the hopes that I haven't opened the one I bought and would be willing to return it to them for resale. With that I can assure you that if it's new and exciting, I want one of those! A couple of years ago I was putting together a tool box for a travel archery hunt and wow was I amazed at how many moving parts a compound bow has. Listen, I'm an advocate of compounds and used within reason they are probably the most efficient and humane method of harvesting whitetails with a broad head...But! Ernie Scott, owner/operator of Steel Creek Outfitters in Iowa was asked by a client if he had a set up that had lanes reaching out to 75 yards. The gentleman was no doubt proficient at that distance....But! You get my point. With my long bow I need one tool when I travel, me! I take an extra string just in case and there's nothing you can do if your bow breaks with the exception of getting out your backup long bow so the issue of failure falls somewhere between the hands and the feet for the most part (user error) and not in a setscrew.
2. Satisfaction! Being pretty good out to 40 yards with a compound I'd still tell you that its a shot that I would only take if the Hanson Buck was in jeopardy pending my success. 30 yards and in for me! With a long bow I'm very comfortable at 15 yards and a little shaky at 20. That cuts my opportunity in half from my compound and actually makes me practice a bit, is over 3000 arrows in 6 weeks reasonable? If not reasonable, then consider it required! You see there's some work involved with a long bow: practice, scent control, practice, set up, practice, did I mention practice? With the work that's required and the chance for success lessened, their hopefully will be a greater success of accomplishment and satisfaction. As you may be able to tell I'm pending my first long bow harvest as this is my first year for long bow and frankly, I'm having some days of asking "why" too.
3. People! I have to say that since I've taken up the sport I've meant some of the nicest and most down to earth people (hunters) and have enjoyed each and everyone of them. Featured below in this blog will be a link and information about one of them: Leon Stewart. My good friend Rich Barker introduced me to the sport and with little effort on his part I followed along. Everyday is an adventure, if you call trying to find your arrows in the neighbors yard and adventure, and with everyday comes more confidence and excitement. There are other people to numerous to mention but it's Rich that started it all! I earlier mentioned a fellow named Leon Stewart: Leon is a one of a kind! I won't go into his past and/or how he got to where he is and what he does now, you can do a quick search on the Internet for "Leon Stewart" or "Stewart Archery" and find that out for yourself but what I will share is that Leon is a Bowyer. Working from a small shop in the back lawn Leon has consistently hammered out long bow after long bow. Being privileged to visit a local traditional only archery shoot on Thursday nights I was able to share information, try others equipment and get guidance on all things traditional archery. I would bet that 90% of the bows there were handcrafted by Leon and I know for a fact that most if not all of the archers had another Leon Stewart Bow at home. The intent of this blog is to share information and today I'd like to share "Leon Stewart" with those of you who haven't heard of him. Check out his web page http://imageevent.com/archery and understand that it is only slightly representative of what Leon has to offer in traditional archery. If you've ever been interested in shooting stick bow, give him a call, he'd be glad to hear from you I'm sure you'll enjoy talking to him. I'm looking forward to picking up my first Leon Stewart long bow in the very near future and plan to hunt with it during my Ohio whitetail hunt the first week of November. Hopefully I'll be able to share some pic's as well.

And we're off...

By now you've received, or will soon receive my email notification about the blog, frankly, this sounds kind of fun and I hope the new doesn't wear off. Upcoming will be some information about pertinate hunting topic's as stated like: wear to get a good custom long bow, gun/archery shops that I've visited: and liked, etc. Stick with me as I move forward with what I'd like to make a weekly blog entry. As always if you would like something added to the blog, just email me and if it's responsible content I'll post it for you. Off to shoot some arrows Kevo

hunteratheart

For the most part there seems to be something that all hunters have in common, it hits near the heart! This blog is not advocating nor discouraging in nature, it's meant to share thoughts and ideas to and from those who hunt. I'm new at this and will no doubt get a little better at expressing my thoughts and sharing information but for now, I'm just a hunter and a blogger.