hunteratheart

Snow Angels and Hunting Guides

2011-12-08T17:58:00.000-08:00

Sitting in my ground blind on Thanksgiving morning I was full of anticipation, to say the least, it was the 5th day of my hunt and I was getting just a bit impatient with the local Whitetail population. The events of the day were about to unfold and I had no idea what was coming.

As the guide drove off and my fire began to warm the cold morning air there was movement only feet in front of my blind, a doe and a fawn headed for the bait pile. Minutes into the day and it was already on. As the sun began to rise with only minutes until it was legal shooting time the doe and her fawn stared intently behind them, then lowered their heads and wandered off in the opposite direction. If you hunt Whitetails-you know what's coming next! Out of the woods wondered a larger dark object, at first it was hard to tell but only a moment later the outline of antlers hit the morning sky.

At this point I could probably end this blog, most of you have already anticipated the ending, and for the most part you would be correct. Yes, after looking through the 50mm objective lens for the 3rd or 4th time I sat my rifle down, looked out through the screen netting and asked myself a question that I've never asked myself before: How are you not shooting that Buck? Within seconds the rifle when off and the bullet was headed down range. After four long cold days at the Lost Meadow stand, a move planned by my guide put me in a now hallowed ground known as "Zeek's Meadow".

There were some technical difficulties in getting a hold of my guide, he had moved about 20 miles away or so to meet up with the outfitter and apparently-just out of radio range. Moments passed, seemed like hours, and a voice came over the airwaves. It was the outfitter-Kevin, if that is you-key your mic 3 times....I complied. Moments later-Okay it's not Kevin...Rick, if that is you-key your mic 3 times.........I almost passed out.

I had a Saskatchewan Buck that was out of sight, moments seemed like hours and they couldn't hear me on my radio......and then my guide came on the airwaves....Kevin, if that's you key your mic 2 times....click-click.....Okay, if you have a deer down key your mic 2 times....again: click-click....hang on, I'll be there in about 20 minutes......I could have pissed myself!

Excitement quickly turned to question though: did I make a good shot? Did I even hit him? What if I hit him and we don't find him? Breath Kevin Breath.......

I heard the quad coming through the trees and as the guide arrived I was already packed, the ground blind was unloaded and I was ready to go-Breath Kevin Breath. As we approached the bait pile there was no sign of blood......the air went out of me. My guide pointed and said here's a drop-and the chase was on. There is a whole other story I can tell you about our tracking job-I'll save if for another time.

Some 30 yards away piled up in some willows laid what I came to Saskatchewan for-A 150+ Buck! So I thought............

That's where your guessing ends, and my story begins. You see, I brought some baggage with me to Saskatchewan, over a year of some tough times for myself and my family. Emotional stuff that I ventured North to leave behind for a few days-that's where God stepped in.

Upon arrival at Camp I entered the lodge and ran into Micheal-one of my previous guides. I had met the other guides but really didn't know them. My guide was assigned and I was a bit shocked-happy-but shocked.

My guide had a very slow and steady way about him, kind of peaceful in all. I'm wrapped so tight that if someone would have bumped me with a pair of scissors there's no telling where I would have landed. 90 miles a hour and way ahead of my guide!

After twisting my guides ear on the way to the blind and back-I figured he put me somewhere real close to the lodge so he didn't have to hear it anymore, but he didn't. He offered a smile, I tried to slow down, minutes later I was on a role.....as I usually am.

That morning, Thanksgiving Day, the morning my guide and I loaded the Buck and headed to camp we were side tracked to the old construction site to meet up with the outfitter. As we sat, everything seemed to slow down-at least for me. My guide ate his sandwich, I talked, my guide drank his soda, I talked some more, and so it went for about a half hour-then it hit me!

About 50 feet from where we were parked there was a pile of gravel about 100 feet long and 40 or so feet high. The side was formed by the gravel sliding down as they piled it-it was covered with snow. I did what anyone would do after having 5 days like I'd just had, I got out of the truck, wandered over and planted a snow angel on the side of that pile. My guide and I had a good laugh-things seemed to lighten up. Our conversation turned and my guide shared some things that most would bury from their memory. He didn't smile as he talked yet somehow I knew he was okay inside, peaceful in his conversation. It was that moment that I went to Saskatchewan for and I didn't even know it.

As with all of my hunts there seems to be something other than hunting that sticks in my memory. A sight or a sound, a deer or a magpie, or maybe a new friend. That day my guide became more than a guide-he became a good friend. I think God wanted it that way. My baggage was gone.

Try as we may there is little we can do about planning our day, let alone our lives, we just never know whats coming down the pike as they say.

I don't know if I'll get to Saskatchewan again, and if I do I'm pretty sure I'm not going to get the same guide, but that's okay-I don't think I'll ever be able to hunt in Saskatchewan without hearing him in my ear saying: it is what it is! A lesson we could all learn!

Silence is Golden

2011-10-14T04:29:00.000-07:00

Seldom has there been a day on stand that I wasn't entertained by the far off sounds of cars passing or children at a local school house playing. Deer seem to adapt to places like that, where the sounds come and go at relatively the same time every day. There is of course that golden moment that happens right around 9:00am where everything seems to stop and the chill of the morning cuts through the hunting attire that you chose for that day.

Not so much with Saskatchewan, The chill is there from the time you rise out of bed to meet the morning and pretty much stays there all day-you have to dress right. However something is missing once on stand and your guide has departed, something most take for granted as we accept it as the norm-there's no outside noise. Oh, there is the sound of an occasional logging truck in the distance-sometimes 20 or 30 miles away however other than that-silence.

I read a story about an Indian Chief once, he said that one must listen to one's self to find out how ignorant one is, if one listens to one's silence the torment will rise and be heard. I'm not sure exactly what he was getting at but I do know this-in the silence of the Saskatchewan Deer stand every noise is multiplied and your thoughts seem as though they are out loud and can't be silenced. Matched only by anticipation there is a constant battle to not fall within yourself and feel your every thought.

Northern Saskatchewan is Hollowed ground in my eyes, yes-there's probably been someone else in the stand that your sitting at one time or another however there's no guarantee that the deer before you have ever been there. You may well be encountering Whitetails who have never encountered a Human before. And so it is-Saskatchewan.

It is in that Silence where I find myself coming to grips with the past, exploring new thoughts and ideas, find myself fighting off the urge to take a nap and all at the same time feeling the chills of morning and anticipation as they run from your toes to your head and back. It's within the silence of the northern woods where one can come to terms with one's self, kind of settle the past a bit and at the same time find hope for the future. A time when your thoughts seem to scream and your sandwich bag sounds like a paper bag being crumpled.

The silence of Northern Saskatchewan is more than just a hunting land, it's a refuge-a refuge from all that was and all that will be, a space in time to sort things out and make decisions, a place to settle pasts and plan futures. Yes, the silence of Northern Saskatchewan is Golden!

If you travel to Saskatchewan and you don't use that time to the fullest you'll have missed something. A mount on the wall is the obvious goal, however the piece and serenity it brings when the week is truly lived will show in your heart for ever.

Realistic-Not so much

2011-05-22T07:09:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year when lawn work and warm weather take the place of online shopping for hunting clothes and cleaning guns. I often wonder what I'd be like if I lived in a place where the fall season reigns all year long. Luckily for me the cool weather still sets in the evening and the fan above my bed makes it feel fall like when I lay down to go to sleep.With somewhere around 173 days to go until I leave for my Saskatchewan hunt one would think that it would be on the back burner of my "things to do" list, but no.

This year is going to be a bit different from the norm for me, there is no master plan in place. Of late my hunts have involved several months of calls, conversations with landowners and reading maps and statistics looking for "the place". Using outfitters is something relatively new to me, I joined a friend as a guest on a Saskatchewan trip several years ago and enjoyed a return trip in the same manner. Another friend got me to go to an archery outfitter in Ohio and again we returned a year or so later, but other than that-I've been the outfitter for the most part.

This year I have but one responsibility-get there and bring what I need! The rest is up to "others". I know that some of you are thinking that it's a lazy man's game and I'd agree in part. I don't have to do the scouting, prep work, set up accommodations, get permissions, study maps and arrive early to check out the lay of the land, but I'm not being lazy about this trip either. All paperwork is submitted, flights-hotels and rental cars are paid for and 50% of the deposit is submitted with the other 50% pending a check that I'm waiting for in late July or early Aug. I've done all that I can do but dream.

The thing that I now deal with-expectations. I mean for God's Sake this is Saskatchewan, home of the world record and a place where bucks arrive on stand almost all day and hunters go home with antlers in hand should they choose to. As for me, I've been there twice with success in hand but not really with Saskatchewan type success in hand. I'm looking for a wall hanger! In fact, if I get the one I dream of I may have to hang him at Cabela's......lol.

Is it realistic to think that Saskatchewan is a sure thing-yes-about as sure as you can get. Is it realistic to think that your guaranteed a 170+ B+C Buck-Not so much! There is an abundance of 130-150 inch and there are surely 150-170 inchers standing in the wings during most typical hunts....but....they didn't get that big by visiting the bait pile outside the hours of darkness!

If you want to be realistic about Saskatchewan you need to realize that although it is truly the land of dreams it is also the land of disappointment should your expectations get the best of you. What I find interesting about Saskatchewan and what keeps me excited thinking about going back is the sheer wilderness of where I hunt and that fact that at any time you could encounter a mature buck who has never seen nor encountered a human before. I have hunted across much of our great land in the lower 48 and yet what I think draws me to the great northern woods is the deer behavior that's encountered. First and foremost is the number of deer you see on stand each day but coupled with that is their lack of pressure allowing them to act naturally right in front of you. You'll not find a better Whitetail University than the northern woods of Saskatchewan!

My expectations are high but realistically I'm well aware of what is on the menu. A super hunt, a break from life as I know it and an opportunity to see nature being nature in it's purest form. Hey, if I get lucky I might even harvest a mature whitetail buck-wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake!

Hunting Wishes

2011-03-28T17:50:00.001-07:00

I spend much of my time in hotels as I travel searching the Internet and reliving the haunts of hunting past and harvest future. There's a dream of mine that exceeds any other goal or desire that I have when it comes to hunting: I want to hunt just one more day with my Father!

Merle Leland (Mike) Meyer was born to a Nebraska farmer, although his restless spirit made him chase an invisible dream it was his roots in the great state of Nebraska that quieted his spirit and soothed his soul. As so it is with me, his son! Mike-my Father-passed away in November of 2000 God rest his soul, he is buried in Nebraska.

As I sat at dinner last night in an upper class restaurant that sits right on the water at Penn's Landing in Philadelphia, I listened politely as someone belittled Nebraska as a barren waste land. Honestly it was all I could do not to defend the great state however I decided that she doesn't need me to defend her from someone who knows nothing about her. For me Nebraska is a state of mind, a safe place to be when life is in turmoil, a great escape if you like. I too, like my father, harbor a restless soul, and as my wife defines it-I wish my life away. I only feel complete when I stand once again within the boundaries of my home state.

As the conversation moved on to several others who couldn't help but put in their two cents worth on a state they have merely traveled through-my thoughts began to wander and it hit me: when I go back-I go back to be with my father! It's as though I'm safe there with him to see over me, I'm once again-a kid-my fathers son! Although my wife would never live there, she fully understands that something draws me there and that I'm a better man when I return home to New Jersey just for having been there. It's somehow-my time with Dad!

Deer hunting will forever be-Deer hunting. But Deer hunting with Dad is a thing of the past. A memory that will linger for as long as I can lift my rifle, a dream to be smiled about, a goal to be cried about. I'll never again in life-hunt with my Father. It is my wish to those who hunt that they may see more than the harvest when they hunt, I wouldn't want anyone to miss the smell of coffee as the thermos is opened, the horizon as the sun comes up or lays down, the short distance between them and their fathers who sit next to them.

May hunting forever be a place where one feels safe and secure, and for me at home if you will-with my Father.

In loving memory of all the cornfields and duck blinds

Respectfully your son Kevin Scott "Scooter" Meyer

Plans well made!

2011-03-20T19:00:00.000-07:00

I was told once that I don't let the grass grow under my feet! Well, it's happened again. Today is March 20th and I've just booked my last hotel night for my Saskatchewan Trip, it's all planned down to the amount of US Currency I need to exchange for Canadian Currency before the trip. This trip is special to me, I guess that's why I'm so excited. I'm doing this one with friends however at the same time-I'm doing it alone!

I've had favor to go to Saskatchewan two times prior to this trip. There were several of us on the trip and we planned it out and did it together all the way from departure to arrival. I'm going with friends this year as well however-I'm doing this one alone! The usual trip involves arriving on Saturday and checking into a local motel for the night, the next morning we board up with assigned drivers and undertake the 5 1/2 hour ride north to the lodge. Now I don't want to sound selfish however this trip is totally and unequivocally-for me! I've booked my flight for Friday (a day early) so I'm not traveling with the hoards of Saturday arrivals. I'm hoping for a quiet trip and a good nights sleep in downtown Saskatoon. My partners will be arriving Saturday midday to late afternoon and I'm sure we'll get together for dinner. Of course the following day we'll be driving up together, for me that's where it all ends. My flight home will be on a Monday, in exchange for the normal Sunday flight!

For the last several years I've been focused on trying to get some other hunters a respectable Midwestern Nebraska Buck. Although my attempts have been lacking, none-the-less it was me who sat by watching others hunt and doing what I could to get people in the right spots. I'm generally unselfish as it is, however this fall is different. Once I land at the lodge-it's all about me!

On my past trips I've ended my hunts on Wednesday and Thursday respectively, with lesser bucks harvested. I've often wondered what would have happened had I just hung in there a little longer. There have been some monsters harvested in the region and I still yearn for "The One". With all of this in mind, I have learned over the years that my serenity is directly proportional to my expectations. Now that the trip is 100% a go, all I have to do is close my eyes at night and dream about that moment in time! I'm trying not to get too jazzed up, but I will. If you wouldn't, your not a true whitetail hunter!

There is nowhere in the world like Saskatchewan during the Rut for whitetail hunters! If you don't believe me, you haven't been there. I pride myself a Godly man however annually I drawing dangerously close to selling my soul for a trip up north....lol! As with most I have obligations to concern myself with: family, work, family, lawn, family and all things financial. Did I mention family? There are a lot of ships rocking out there in the ocean, I'm not willing to rock the one I live in....if you know what I mean!

I have to say, there is an air of calmness now that I've booked the last hotel night required for the trip-it's on! Hopefully I can just sit back and relax until November......NOT!

It is my sincere wish that those who would read this blog would one day land at Saskatoon Airport on their way up north, there's just nothing like it in the world!

A Moment in Time

2011-03-06T19:23:00.001-08:00

There is an air of familiarity in my newly renovated office. Late last week my 2009 Nebraska Whitetail mount arrived via UPS. As it is only the second full head mount that I've done in my hunting career it hangs predominately as you walk in.

I find myself quite humbled in its presence actually. No, it's not a monster or world record, fact is many may have passed on the opportunity-and normally so would I. As you may recall from an earlier story I was hunting a piece of state land with the hopes that my hunting buddy Rich would get a reasonable shot at a mature mid-western buck. As we worked our way back to the boat that brought us to our hunting spot I trailed Rich giving him every opportunity at a first shot. As it happened I worked my way a little bit too far to the left and ended up on an adjoining point and not where the boat was. As I turned back to the path that had led me to that spot, three (3) Whitetails jumped up from a daytime bedding spot and within seconds I "incorrectly" identified a set of antlers as a 3x3 and before he could get up a head of steam the harvest was over.

As I worked my way around the ditch to get a better look at the buck I was pleasantly surprised to see a 10 point (due to split brow tines)! Although not the trophy that I had hoped Rich would land, it still would have been a fine harvest for him as well.
I stated earlier that I feel "humbled", it has been a long time since I stepped foot afield with my father. When he passed in 2000 I had the opportunity to recall and relive many of the hunting days with him. None any better than the last-all were good days!

At 53 years old I am privileged to have hanging on my wall a link to a childhood dream. I spent most of my hunting days in my father’s tow however until this opportunity, in spirit of course, I harvested my first Nebraska Whitetail with my father beside me. Although it has only been hanging for a couple of days it almost brings a tear to my eye when I walk into the room. It's a connection if you will, to the days of holding my father’s hand, cleaning our shotguns together or just sitting on the front porch with a glass of iced tea. I miss him!

As I sit here tonight I fully understand how silly this all seems to my wife and daughter, Jersey born and raised, not much on hunting anything. I admit that it isn't a trophy most would spend much time on, let alone wait a year to have it mounted. I feel almost foolish as I send out the picture to my hunting buddies-probably the smallest buck harvested amongst the group in some time. But they don't know my Dad!

This one's for you Dad, the dry spell is over and yet another fond memory of hunting past shares my life and times. It's a connection of sorts, a look back into the past, a memory that just happened. As I often say to Rich: It's a Moment in Time!

This fall I head to Saskatchewan, the land of dreams, yet there stands nothing in those woods that can link me to my father. The harvest, should there be one, will be enjoyed as a new event-a New Moment in Time, none however will replace the attached Nebraska Buck in bringing me back to a moment with my Father.

The "Wait"

2011-02-01T19:35:00.000-08:00

I don't know about anyone else, but for me, hunting season begins the day it ends! 2010 is in the books and 2011 is in the planning stages. Armed with a dream and an opportunity the required deposit has been sent and my third Saskatchewan hunt has been put into action.

I can go on forever about what I feel can happen while sitting a stand in what has repeatedly proven itself to be the best place in the world to hunt whitetails-but I won't! This blog is about : The "Wait"! Tonight as I sit in my hotel room, ice storm looming on the horizon and tomorrow's activities being an unknown, I find myself before the computer as a means of sanity and escape. An email sent reference a close encounter between Archer and Elk started my mind rolling about the great north woods of Saskatchewan. As of today I have two of my close friends, one a repeat hunting buddy, the other will be hitting the woods with me this fall for the first time, pending Saskatchewan deposits-although committed verbally.

I'm not sure that I can top the Michigan encounter with a 170 class buck that one of them had in 2010, but hopefully we'll have some fun along the way and a picture to hold the moment.

There are circumstances holding the final decision to commit by a friend which will be resolved within the next two weeks, although I fully expect things to work out and a commitment to be made, it's hard to sit by waiting to know that all three are booked, dates set and travel plans made. All part of: The "Wait"!

For those who know me it's no secret that I find greater reward in the success' of others while afield, however the past 4 years have been slow for my efforts and all involved and Saskatchewan offers success to most all who visit her. It is my sincere hopes and/or expectations that antlers will come home and mounts will be procured for the three of us. And although two of us have committed the whole picture just won't be complete until number three sends in his deposit. I would be happy to take this trip alone, however there will be something missing should he not make the trip with us.

For those who hunt it's well known that the Rut in Saskatchewan is like being nowhere else on earth. The great north woods offers opportunity to see: wolves, buffalo and moose while on stand and many end their hunts early with a lesser buck and a realization that they missed what I call "The Movie". Spending a day on stand watching deer interact like they do in the wild is one of the most exciting events a true whitetail hunter can observe. Many focus on Saskatchewan as a place to harvest a respectable buck, I see it as one of the best learning experiences a hunter can have.

I've offered up a $100 bill to either of my buddies should they voluntarily leave their firearm in camp and sit their stand weaponless for the first day of the trip, neither are willing to bite! I suggest to you that being on stand without your chosen weapon as shooter bucks frequent the area is harder than one would think, I have visions of grown men drooling at dinner having seen multiple trophies without means to harvest them.

Saskatchewan is more to me than a place to shoot a deer, it's an opportunity to see nature being nature! During this period I refer to as: The "Wait" I have restless moments thinking about one of my hunting buddies missing out on what I earlier referred to as "The Movie". What would be the use of experiencing anything worth living for-should it not be shared!

An so the wait continues, a mere two weeks until the verdict is in and the plans begin to take form. It's my sincerest hope that he will join us on this trip as there is more to it than just harvesting a great north woods whitetail, it's an experience all it's own!

And so it goes with hunting, waiting comes in many forms for those of us with lesser means and who have to grab opportunities when we can, I just don't want to miss sharing this experience, to go it alone would take from the trip-that which makes it a trip, and would only leave "the harvest"!

Time Well Spent

2010-12-07T21:04:00.000-08:00

As I sit here at my desk I often wonder how and what I would change about this past hunting season. 2010's season isn't over exactly-but it is for me! December has brought about the cold air and the realization that winter is here to stay. Nebraska averaged about 45 degrees during rifle season this year, a little warmer than I would have liked it to be.

I arrived in Nebraska a week early this year, actually arrived at camp on Tuesday prior to the Saturday opener, wanted to check out the area since it was the first time I had hunted the panhandle. The bucks were chasing does, seems like deer were everywhere you looked, the temperatures changed on Thursday and the deer disappeared only to be found on others trucks and trailers beginning Saturday morning.

As always I get pumped up which leads to a massive downswing when things don't go well. I enjoyed the hunt mind you, just could have been a bit better. They say that a bad day hunting is better than a good day at work, I assume "they" don't enjoy their jobs. As for me the frustration mounted quickly as the realization came that there were too many hunters and not enough deer on the property that we had permission to hunt. We altered our course as any good hunter would do and chased the mighty beasts around State Lands and further into neighboring private property. I would have to say that I saved the lives of more deer than I've harvested! Ben landed a respectable buck on a last ditch effort. We hit a piece of State Land with pine trees on it on our way home and out he popped!

Hunting for me has always been a thing to share, I just don't like hunting alone as much as I do with others. Harvesting a Buck is alright for sharing bragging photo's but it's more than that to me; it's the whole trip! From the time I send out the first email to the day that I pack up and head home is all part of the hunt to me, I enjoy other's excitement more than my own I guess. This year was somehow different, I booked bad land, the weather wasn't right, the Rut was on hold and I just couldn't find deer!

I would tell you that I have a knack for finding the right spots to hunt, you put me on a piece of property and within minutes I have a plan and know where not to hunt! This year my thoughts were all over the place, I just couldn't find the deer! My frustration falls in the area of my hunting buddies, me-if I don't harvest a deer I still enjoy the hunt, this year I invited 3 of my buddies and if not for the miracle on State Land we would have headed home with 2 does for our efforts. A fine feat, but not what I traveled 1500 miles for!
By Tuesday of the week I had turned my efforts to small game, didn't give up on the deer just wanted to do something while I waited for the others to harvest deer. A Jackrabbit, Pheasant, Grouse and Turkey all fell to my Remington, followed by a Doe near the end of the week. It was a multitasking hunt in my eyes and multitask I did.....lol.

It goes without saying that if you put yourself fourth on the list for harvest, you'll probably go hungry. I've been reasonably unselfish for the last few years....It's my turn!
2011 looks to be the best opportunity I've had in a few years to bag a buck, it's back to Saskatchewan I go! November seems way to far off to be thinking let alone planning on a hunt but as I'll tell anyone who understands Remington Country, it comes faster than you think!
Time spent in the field is always good time as long as no one gets hurt. I can't say that I didn't enjoy my November Nebraska trip-I always do! As I look back I've been re-thinking that being fourth on the list thing, I think it's my turn next fall.

As for this fall, it was still time well spent!

Commitment to Canada

2010-07-25T18:04:00.000-07:00

It's been hovering around 90 degrees almost everyday for over a month now, it's hard to focus on all things hunting when you step out the door and the humidity hits you in the face. Much has happened over the last few days. On a whim I asked one of my hunting buddies Jim if he is up for a Canada Whitetail hunt in 2011, to which he replied via text message: "YES"!!! I then pinged my other hunting buddy Rich and his response was similar in nature: "Absolutely". And so it goes, the plans have begun and the sleepless nights once again have entered into my home.

It takes some effort on my part to get to Canada, I'm not what you would refer to as a "man of means". I have to save and save and then try to save to make it a trip worthwhile, so save I will! Within minutes of committing to a Canada trip the haunts of today set in, Nanny and Poppy still aren't settled, my wife remains a homemaker and caregiver to her parents where she needs to be and having a single income makes it harder to justify a $6000 trip to the great north woods.

Albeit a short jaunt of depression several things came to mind that gave me a way out of my darkness and into a 747 headed to Saskatoon! In the same week that we discussed Canada I was lucky enough to be led to an outfitter in Iowa that has some real good setups for traditional archery. The more we talked the more I liked him and the more my mind began to change. I couldn't wait to call Rich and tell him about my new found opportunity and suddenly the sleepless nights are back! Having settled in with a definite maybe on either Saskatchewan or Iowa I was fortunate enough to be introduced to a business colleague of mine who told me that his family owns two large farms in Iowa and would probably let us hunt there. Okay, now imagine my dismay!

I went from an expensive Canada hunt to a less expensive and exciting Iowa hunt to a non-outfitter cheaper than dirt Iowa opportunity in a flash! Man is Rich getting tired of my emails.

The point of this post is in the Love of the Sport. There are great things to say about any hunt and Canada and Iowa alike are producing massive antlered deer. Either one of those opportunities would do for most of us, but it's Canada for me. In an earlier post I talked you through a Canadian Hunt from inception to conclusion and so it will be again, I'm off to the great north woods in 2011!

Although Canada is as close as you can come to a guaranteed harvest there's so much more to a trip there than can be explained. My outfitter and friend has over 350 square miles of great north timberland. Most will tell you that the really big bucks are south of the Saskatchewan Mason-Dixon line known as Meadow Lake however there are no shortage of bucks 60 miles north of there and nothing like the feeling of being on stand knowing that there's not another human being within miles of you. the sheer excitement of seeing a wolf or moose wonder through without any regard to you is nothing short of amazing. Seeing 10 to 20 shooter bucks a day doesn't hurt either!

Is it worth going up there for what it costs? Let's just say that I'm on the brink of saving my pennies, selling some guns and alienating my wife to go, so I'd say so!

This time of year I should be focused on golf, work, lawn and the lack of rain and yet somehow I find time to let my mind wander into hunting. I have two fishing trips planned this year and still I see antlers when I close my eyes at night.

With my Nebraska trip planned and settled for this fall and the potential for a Canada hunt in 2011 I'll be a mess for another 15 months or so! I think sometimes that it's all things hunting that keep me sane and yet it's also what makes me crazy.

Today I built an Oak rack for my longbows (shown above) and tomorrow I head out for central Pennsylvania for a two day golf outing and I'll probably no doubt spend much of the time talking about hunting. I can't help it: as Ursala says in the Little Mermaid-It's what I do, it's what I live for!

So off to bed for yet another night of tossing and turning, the kind that a commitment to Canada brings.

There are certain days

2010-06-26T05:14:00.000-07:00

I find it harder to get motivated towards the art of hunting when the average daily highs are in the low 90's. When walking from your house to your truck in the driveway gets you sweating the thoughts of climbing a hill or setting up a ground blind couldn't be farther from your thought patterns.

Once again I find myself sitting in the office surrounded by what was and items that have yet to be and thinking about this upcoming fall season. Due to unforeseen events this fall is going to be a one and done hunting season. A Nebraska Sandhills rifle hunt will be the thing my dreams are made of from now until November. With two (2) either sex hunting licenses and attached Bonus Doe tags there are four (4) deer somewhere out west who may be feeding multiple hungry families.

My plan is to harvest the first nice buck I see and then focus on that one of a kind Mule Deer Buck, unless he appears first. The area where I'll be hunting houses about a 50/50 mix of Whitetails and Mulies, with river bottom land and several square miles of sandhills on the property so both will come into play. With this confounded heat wave we're having it was quite inspiring to wake up this morning to rather chilly temperatures outside.

At 5:30am my Pembroke Welsh Corgi (Lorrie) decided that she would like to go out so she woke me up and out we went, I'm glad she did! As I walked out of our master bedroom door into what was a bit of a chill my thoughts immediately turned to being in a tree stand or on the side of a hill overlooking a valley. Funny how fast your thoughts can turn on certain days.

I mentioned earlier that this was a one an done season however that's not exactly true. Last fall I cleaned out my safe and traded a few lesser rifles and shotguns for two Remington CDL Stainless Fluted rifles in .270wsm and .300wsm, what else could a man want? With two new rifles and two Nebraska either sex licenses I figure I'm really looking at two hunts! I think maybe the .300WSM first followed hopefully by filling a tag with the .270WSM later in the week. Imagine if you will, two trophy hunts in the same week!

There are four of us going on the trip this fall, my hunting buddy Rich of course followed by my long time grade school buddy Ben to which we've added a business partner and friend Gary from Missouri. I find that the quality of a hunt is directly effected by the quality of the persons on the hunt and you couldn't find 3 more quality guys than the crew we've put together. Each in and of his own right a hunter but mostly each in and of his own right a genuine nice guy!

I find that the stories told after the hunt seldom enlightened the harvest but more so the events of the trip, you need good people to have good events! Today is yet another 90+ east coast day yet being a Saturday I'm sure that it will be filled with all things hunting for me. I need to get my longbow(s) out and loose some arrows before Rich calls me to the carpet, I think a quick cleaning (wipe down) of the guns in the safe is in order not to mention finding my hunting clothes containers now that Poppy and Nanny's household goods are stored in our garage. To me getting ready is half of the fun of a hunting trip.

As for those two rifles, they both need the barrels worn in on them, the Winchester XP3s are sitting on the desk, the range is open and I have the targets made up for 200, 300 and 400 yards however did I mention that it's 90+ degree today...lol, they'll just have to wait to take their first ride to the range.

There are certain days alright and today is one of them, if only to have a time machine! My wife often comments that I wish my life away waiting for my next hunt, she's probably right-she usually is. However wish it away I will, because this is one of those certain days!

Nebraska Sandhills

2010-04-29T14:04:00.000-07:00

I think that I'd be safe in saying that about 98% of Americans probably find no allure in the Nebraska Sandhills. Rolling hills of sand topped by weeds for the most part. Evergreen bushes seem to be just about the only thing that grows well, should it have opportunity to grab foot. In the middle of nowhere there's a line of oaks and cottonwoods giving away any water to be found in the area. As I stated earlier: miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles.

To me the Sandhills are a place of refuge, comfort if you will. Early mornings show dew covered landscapes only to bring back the sheer magnitude of space as the sun slowly rises and the shadows recede to bring the day. Most would think that barren land relates to barren wildlife yet wildlife flourishes at every corner. From Mule and Whitetail Deer to Mountain Lion with the breadth of upland game and waterfowl between, the land slowly comes alive late afternoon. Out of nowhere a hunters paradise.

I've been lucky enough through my contacts to have gained access to a northwestern ranch near the panhandle, 3600 acres of ranch land, shared with few. The landowner, a 78 year old gentleman with Parkinson's and Cancer was more than hospitable and so it was, another hunting trip was born!

If you read between the lines in early posts you'll easily see that I've invited my hunting buddy Rich to join me out west, 3 years in a row now. My plan to take him began while sitting in his basement looking at his mounts on the wall. As with any hunter the trophy sits prominent. I asked him to tell me the story about his mounts and a friendship was formed. It has been no secret between Rich and I that I am out to put him on the biggest buck he's ever shot, defining biggest as in rack size.

We've been to Nebraska twice now, missed one opportunity, noted another before sun up and now look forward to hunting by far the best piece of property for achieving that goal that we've hunted to date. Although I tend to the hunting fires throughout the entire year, this year is different. I am actually giddy about the upcoming opportunity. Not only did I acquire a set of Remington CDL Stainless Fluted Rifles in .270wsm and .300wsm this year I also acquired my first (second and third) Leopold Vari-X3 scope(s). Atop the .300wsm sits a 4.5 x 14-50mm silver Leopold with fine duplex reticles, soon to be sighted in at 200 yards. New Rifle, new Scope, new Land and a new year! Who wouldn't be giddy about that?

With all that I have to smile about for the next 198 days, 18 hours and 35 minutes it came up in conversation that Rich would like to invite someone along with us this fall. At the time that the subject was broached I had lost access to over 2000 acres and was struggling to find land to achieve my ultimate goal, so I just kind of blew it off. Once confirmed that we had gained access to not one ranch but four, the subject was gently brought up again by Rich. Upon going just a little further in our conversation it became clear to me that Rich wanted to bring a long time work partner of his who also has become a new found friend to me.

Being born and bred in the heart of the Husker Nation I'm having a hard time bringing a Mizzou fan out with us but I think I can make it the week without bringing last year's game up, I said: I think!

So, with my long time friend Ben, new found best hunting buddy Rich and our friend Gary in tow this looks to be an exciting week out west. The motel reservations are set, the trip out and back is planned down to the hour I need to leave. The rifle is cleaned and oiled and readied for a trip to the range and the scope is centered and bore sighted to a street light about a half mile away.

Yet another fall season, yet another opportunity and yet another story to soon share with my friends.

Now that's Remington Country!

It's what I dream of at night!

2010-02-19T18:32:00.001-08:00

It will start out early in the year as an innocent desire to hunt whitetails in the great north woods. it will end with a smile and a memory. The day you write out the deposit check and send it off to the outfitter seems like years before the season opener, yet it goes by in a flash.

I remember searching my computer for my packing list for a rifle hunt, once found I query as to why I have so many things on the list. By the time I've gone through my gear and hunting clothing I've found a bunch of things I'll need that weren't even on the list. As I shuffle through my office guiding through the piles of clothes, boots, ammo and more clothes I begin to think that somewhere along the line I must have went crazy and nobody told me.

The date comes to send off your rifle customs form, you get ready pen in hand and then mull over which rifle it will be. I do it in my own fashion, which rifle has yet to be successful on a hunt and that's the one. Write out a check, attach the form and put it in a envelope, seems easy enough.

About 30 days later you get a letter from Customs that your form has been accepted and your all but there. I have some quirks when it comes to hunting, for some reason I need to leave a day or two earlier than I really need too. I don't know maybe it's my former military service or my desire to get there. I often stay at the motel located at the airport just so I can catch an early flight out. The night isn't sleepless though, you just can't call the 30 or so minutes you'll get-sleepless!

The alarm clock rings as does the phone and like a shot your showered, dressed and waiting in the lobby, I'm not sure why I get to the lobby two hours before my shuttle, it's boring sitting there. Onto the shuttle and it's off to the check-in counter.

Hunting Canada entails passing through customs on each trip there and back. I personally fly out of Newark airport, directly to Minneapolis and then on to Saskatoon. You don't hit customs until you get to Saskatoon and it's about a 15 minute inconvenience should you get picked for inspection. Out of the airport and into the motel shuttle.

Its somehow comforting when you set your rifle and gear down on your motel room floor and take a deep breath, you've arrived. For the most part you'll either be picked up at the airport by the outfitter or in my case the first one's in pick up the rental SUV's and take them to the motel. In the morning other hunters meet you in the lobby and you load up the gear, divvy up the seats and your off for a 5 1/2 hour ride north.

I'm not an unsociable man but somehow the ride is a time of reflection and solitude for me. I just like to sit and look out the window at the miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles. The occasional deer or wolf in the distance or crossing the road ahead. The distinct chill of the northern air and the feeling that your slowly putting miles between yourself and civilization as you know it. Once you arrive in camp it all seems to go so fast: get to your assigned bunks, confirm your sights, get a meal and begin to talk smack about past hunts.

After dinner the outfitter goes over the rules and fills out the licenses. Tag in hand and guide assigned your all but sitting in your stand, only a nights sleep between now and then. 5am comes early and the trucks are already gassed and running. The guides are chomping at the bit and ready to go. While you put on your hunting clothes you'll open the door to let some cool air in so you don't sweat in the layers. Your rifle sits outside the door so the optics get chilled and clear up. Ammo clinking in your pocket. A quick breakfast, a lunch bag and your off to the stands.

It's hard to realize that once you climb into your tree or ground blind that your finally there. Months and months of preparation, planning and of course-dreaming; and your finally there.

As the sun breaks through the trees the deer have already shown themselves and are milling around your stand. You can hardly breath as the does and bucks just seem to come and go all day. I don't know if it's the chill in the air, knowing that I'm miles from any human being or that just realizing I'm hunting in Canada that takes my breath away, it's like asthma.....you actually have to make yourself breath!

Hunting in Canada is a 15 second event. From the moment you identify your target, engage and harvest, your entire year had come down to that 15 seconds. I can't tell you how hard it is to sit on stand waiting for your guide to arrive. Your harvest is a mere 100 yards or less away and you can't go see. Funny how your mind plays games with you during that time: It's a 12 point, maybe a 10, probably an 8! Then you think to yourself, good God I hope a bigger one doesn't come walking out!

It's back to the camp, harvest in hand, an opportunity to share stories. I've posted my last Canadian buck on the front page of this blog. I sit most days and smile at the opportunity, the memories and the harvest. It's as if it were yesterday. Whether you take a shot or not, it's a trip of a lifetime.

Yes, there's something about the great north woods for those of us who seldom see beyond the concrete and steel. the paved roads are miles south of your location and most deer you come into contact with have probably never seen another human. It's the kind of wilderness that Teddy Roosevelt would write about, protect and enjoy. Miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles, that's what the great north woods are, miles and miles of the very thing that hunters dream about: big deer, cold days and sleepless nights.

It's what I dream of at night!

Fathers and Mentors

2010-02-06T05:05:00.000-08:00

As with most northeasters we woke up to about a foot so snow this morning, there's another foot on it's way. I can't say that it's Richard Proenneke kind of snow, but it's a blizzard for New Jersey. First Things First: the dog has a trail to follow to her favorite early morning spot.

I sat down this morning wondering what today would bring. It's my intention to sit and relax, not much to do with the snow still falling. Nanny and Poppy have groceries enough to last a few days, there's no construction going on due to the weekend: and snow. My money says that Wendy will come up with something. In my opinion it's a good day to sit and enjoy my custom arrows and Leon Stewart bow, not sure that would be Wendy's opinion.

I often think of my father on days like this, wearing his bib Carhart overalls with Remington 1100 in hand on his the way to the truck. I'm sure that a duck or a pheasant could be found if one looked just a bit. Headed into town for some gas and milk, mostly just to sit at the diner and visit with the others. Who are the others you ask? There's a whole lot of folk just like my dad in central Nebraska, no surprises there. Put on the coffee and they will come!

I take great care in my thinking when it comes to nostalgia. Proper memory is needed to truly feel the days of yore. Standing in the driveway waiting for dad to unlock the door of his Ford Bronco so I could mount up and head out for some looking. I'm not sure what others were doing however on snowy days like this I spent most of my time looking and very little time actually hunting.

I still find time for some "looking". There's nothing more fulfilling to me than taking a ride in the country, as country as New Jersey gets, and just looking to see what I can see. A time to reminisce I guess, to relive that which can not be relived.

Lately I've spent some time talking to some High School friends and acquaintances on Facebook. Some will read this post possibly so I'll apologize up front, nothing is meant by my following statement; I'm not sure that it's been all that good for me to have went back in time via the Internet like that. People that I remember don't have a clue who I am, others remember me in ways, well, I'd rather not be remembered in. Old memories have surfaced, mostly good, a few well let's just call them memories. I think to some point that it has only strengthened my feelings about not being able to go back.

There is one person of note that I'm going to mention outright: Don McKee. Mr. McKee as I will always know him was my science teacher in Jr. High. You would think that in a small town like Overton Nebraska the need or desire to learn Science would be near the bottom of the learning priority list and the mere meaning of the word "why". Why would you worry about Science in a small farming community where the focus is on crops and will it be a good or bad year? Mr McKee transcends all of that, a firm hand and an open heart! All that I would want to be when I grow up.

Teachers most often stand out for what they do outside of curriculum. Mr McKee was no different. Although I've only graced his door infrequently, combined with being one of the lesser Science students you could conger up, I was welcome when I did appear! There has been no less than a thousand times that I thought of him while amidst a tough time or decision over the years. A lasting impression to say the least!

For all that my father did wrong, for all that he lacked in not being able to fulfill my selfish desires, for all that I can fault him for should I choose to inventory said things; I could just never thank my father enough for having raised me in Overton Nebraska. The gifts that often go unseen are there for the taking. It sometimes takes years for us to see them. Don McKee was one of those gifts. I'll forever remember you: Don McKee.

Nostalgia is a double edged sword to say the least. Remembering is a good thing at my age, but it's certain memories that I sometimes wish would go away.

I do so long for the simpler times, a time when I could walk 3 miles into town and no one ever mentioned or worried about a stranger and the harm that one could bring. Doors were left open on warm summer days, pickup windows down with rifles in the back window gun racks. Kids laughing, few crying. There were no doubt worries and strains, tears behind closed doors however there were more mentors then there were bothered children. There seems to always be an adult near by that one could find comfort with.

As I look back I find the very examples of what I'd like to be when I grow up however mostly I'm just thankful that they were there. To all who would teach: teach not to a grade but to a life, for each child will grow one day to be someone and your someone too! To Don McKee I say "Thank You", thank you for making me feel welcome in your world even today, from a scraggly little runt of a kid in small town USA.

To my father who dawned not a book nor a classroom your lessons of life have gotten me through! A rough road at times however never has there been a bump or mountain that I couldn't get over. May God Bless, more than he already has!

God's been good to me!

2010-01-30T19:55:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I sat down to write, mostly because hunting season is over and the weather still shows remnants of winter, who am I kidding...It's cold!

It's hard to extend feelings and aspirations about hunting without making it yet another story about the long shot or the buck of a lifetime. Hunting is a much deeper thing than that to me. It seems that there's something missing this time of year, oh, the hopes for the upcoming season, planning and dreaming are in full tilt but still there's a sort of emptiness when I look at my mounts, guns and equipment. Time spent alone at the computer at night researching seems to be all for not, yet I keep typing, entering and deleting.

Recently I've come into contact with a few of my old schoolmates. Most from grade school and into Jr. High. Some with good memories others with, well, I was young. All in all they are a large part of my growing up in the heartland and the memories have come flooding in. One of the things that I noted today is that out in farm country all of the kids jump on the bus and go home at the end of the day. I never realized how lonesome it could get. To have the hustle and bustle of a day come to a close with some play time and no ones around.

Funny thing middle America, It's all that we should be yet you have to grow up fast. As noted in an earlier blog the buck I harvested in Nebraska is at the taxidermist, I'm looking forward to some news in the near future. It takes about 6-8 months to get them back so it's sort of like opening a Christmas present, you kind of forget what it looked like and you anticipate the joy.

This year comes with yet another present, the new three (3) piece custom Leon Stewart bow will be done in early April. Having ordered two (2) sets of limbs it's actually two bows in one! So much to look forward to this year. Rich and I have decided to take it easy this fall, only one trip in the plans, and yes: it's Nebraska! The focus this fall isn't on wall hangers as much as on multiple species. Some upland game, waterfowl and deer hunting will be the order of the day and so on we go. The duck and goose decoys will no doubt be in tow as will the waders and brush pants. Oh so much to pack and so little time..lol.

I'm not quite sure how this fall will pan out for hunting. Nanny and Poppy are coming to live with us in a few weeks once the construction is finalized. Nanny is in or at least getting into the advanced stages of Alzheimer's. It isn't going to be easy. But then: what would you do in my shoes? God has been good to me over the later years of my life, between the memories of past and the Blessings of late I've come to know a life that for the most part has only been dreamed of. It seems that he has a plan, I'll follow!

Tonight I sit in New Jersey but my mind is afield in Nebraska. A mental break was needed and I took it, all the way out west! For once in my life cleaning a rifle, smelling Rem Oil and watching hunting shows can't cover the reality of whats to soon come.

I said earlier that I'm not sure if I was Blessed for having my childhood or cursed for having the memories, the memories may be all I have this fall, I'm glad I have them!

There is a great sense of accomplishment in a successful ethical hunt, there is a greater sense of accomplishment in helping another, and help Poppy and Nanny I will! For one of the first times in my life I actually feel like a responsible adult. It wasn't that long ago that my life would have been all about me and the challenge of helping in-laws wouldn't have been an option.

I'll have to make the call this fall as to whether it's more important for me to hunt of stay home and assist. Either will be fine with me! That's how I can say: God's been good to me!

January winds

2010-01-03T16:33:00.000-08:00

Seems like it was yesterday that I was sitting atop a sandhill watching my hunting buddies across the valley. Suddenly, just like that: it's January and the Holidays are over. I find little comfort in the January winds however Nebraskaland magazine in hand I'll find some time to reflect I'm sure. This is the worst part of the year for me, hunting is all but over, the Internet hunting stores are having some slamming sales and I have a list of things that I wish I would have had for the fall hunts. I won't say it's not fun purchasing equipment and then anxiously awaiting the arrival of the UPS truck. It's just not that fun when the bill comes due and I spend 20 minutes asking myself if I really needed this or should I have purchased something else. Thats the issue with the January winds! I decided that for the most part I'm going to stabilize my arrow supply. Having purchased my first longbow late last year I spent a lot of time and money trying to find the arrow that my bow likes the best: Beman ICS Bowhunters seem to fit the bill. With my traditional archery stash soon to include bows set to 45, 50, 55 and 60 pounds I find myself caught between the performance of the 400's vs the 500's. So I did what any self respecting guy with a credit card would do: I ordered both! I seem to be spending quite a bit of time this January (keeping in mind it's only the 3rd of January) engaged in a search for my 2010 fall hunts. No doubt Rich and I will head to Iowa as planned however I'm torn as to my second hunt. Saskatchewan is calling, Nebraska is beckoning and my drive to harvest a wall hanger is on. But first.......... There will be a change this year, we've invited Poppy and Nanny to come live with us. They are getting up there in years: 85 and 84 respectively, and they need a little help. There aren't many things that I'll put in front of a chance to be where the deer live with the exception of Nanny and Poppy! Frankly I'm gearing up for a "put it on hold" year until I realize the full extent of the upcoming change. Construction is planned and the process of transition has begun. I kind of see it all as a chance to spend time with my father in law and make his final years as comfortable as I can; I'm looking forward to it. It's funny how no matter how much hunting you get to do it never seems to be enough, yet I somehow feel so satisfied the minute that I'm on stand for the first day of the hunt. Being limited to one hunt this fall is not an appealing process for me, I've wasted oh so many years living in the heart of Whitetail country and didn't even hunt them for the most part. Now that I'm older I'm finding it hard to relive or for that matter even catch up with the memory's of my childhood. That's what I think I'll use most when I'm 85, the memory of days afield and the successes as well as the failures. I have time for Poppy and I have time to hunt, for right now: Poppy is more important! I'll one day have a windy January and know that it may be my last and I'd sure like to have someone to talk to while I go through it and I'm sure that Poppy will too!

Nebraska: I bow to you in reverance

2009-11-24T18:59:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-23T18:07:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-10-18T08:12:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-09T18:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-25T05:28:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-18T20:31:00.000-07:00

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"? 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 c onversation 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 9 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, 3 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.

Security in the Sense of the Familiar

2009-09-17T23:37:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-11T10:07:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-05T08:55:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-09-05T07:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-05T07:40:00.000-07:00

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.