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!