We call it "hunting"???

     When I’m sitting high up in my tree stand, sometimes my mind wanders…I think about serious issues and other times, nonsense. This will come as no shock to my friends, but lately, my thoughts have been about hunting and the direction we as hunters are going in today’s world.

     It’s often been said that hunting is just a generation away from being “extinct” and I’d have to say that I agree with that. Most people no longer hunt for sustenance and the rural lifestyle that surrounds hunting and the outdoors seems to losing ground in our fast-paced, hectic society. For hunting to survive in this day and age, it’s critical to recruit new hunters into the fold. Things such as hunter’s education classes, youth hunting weekends and ladies in the outdoors seminars have done a great job to get new blood into the mix.

     But, in our zeal to get younger hunters involved, to get the kids into the woods, we’ve diluted the “hunting” experience. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you might ask…Here’s how I see it. We have eliminated failure for our kids in almost every aspect of their young lives. Hunting Dad’s today are akin to the soccer moms of 10 years ago. We have become helicopter parents, hovering around our kids until they are young adults, trying to ensure their success and fighting all their battles. We have raised an entire generation that doesn’t know what it means to fail, to lose, to be defeated or challenged and I’ve been guilty of it too…

     We no longer keep score at kids’ youth basketball games, every child in soccer gets a trophy and the same can be said for hunting. We as hunting parents or mentor’s have removed the chase, the challenge and the “hunt” from hunting…We have cleared overgrown pastures and replaced them with food plots, especially planted and designed to attract deer into range of our budding “hunters”. We have built elevated, enclosed, comfortable “shooting shacks” or blinds, some even with padded, easy chairs and all the creature comforts of home! We’ve created a generation of hunters that think that there ought to be a trophy buck behind every tree and along with it, an undeserved sense of entitlement.

     We have turned hunting for our kids into something that resembles shooting fish in a barrel…No real chance of failure, no real challenge. Rock solid shooting rests, no shivers from the cold as Dad lines up the sights on the buck for Junior to pull the trigger and ‘”boom”, it’s over… The buck falls dead in the food plot and we drive our ATV or side-by-side to the fallen animal and load him up…

   

       We are turning our hunting kids into “shooters”, but there sure isn’t much “hunting” going on. We’re foregoing teaching time honored skills and woodsmanship in exchange for quick fixes and the path of least resistance. We have made “hunting” too easy for our young hunters today…We’re not instilling a passion and a love for the outdoors and the animals we pursue. We’re not building on tradition and heritage. There’s no longer a connection to the land… What’s wrong with teaching a kid how to slip around a hickory grove with a .410, honing his or her skills chasing squirrels? Hunting behind a brace of beagles or kicking fence rows and brush piles for rabbits used to be rungs on the hunting ladder. Dues to be paid…Today, it’s all about getting a trophy buck in front of our 8 and 9 year old hunters…We don’t start kids off fishing the open ocean for blue marlin, so why is it now that we expect our youngsters to be ready to take a deer before they are mentally and emotionally able to understand all that goes along with taking the life of an animal? It’s all part of the instant gratification, “mine, mine, mine”, “gimme, gimme” attitude that is so prevalent today…

      There is something to be said for losing, for defeat at the hand of Mother Nature. Challenges are good in that they help us know our place in the world and where we fit in. We need to have our mettle tested from time to time… It builds character. It’s good for our “new” hunters to know how it feels to have cold toes. To miss a deer or two…To blow a stalk, to feel the adrenalin rush of having a deer 10 yards or less. To know what it means to take an animal. To grab that downed buck by the antlers and use the quads God gave you to drag it out rather than your  4-wheeler and to feel his weight against your own.  To learn the way of the woods and to build memories, to have shared experiences. That’s what we should be teaching our young hunters today if we want this sport and lifestyle to continue. If we want the next generation of outdoorsmen and women to pass on our legacy, they need to have their hunting roots planted deep in fertile soil, not in the shallow dirt that passes as hunting today…Now excuse me as I hop off my soap box!

The Gift

     I hate to shop…I don’t care if it’s for groceries or a trip to the mall. I despise fighting the crowds, trying to find the right parking spot and then waiting behind someone at the checkout with a cart full of items in the 20 item or less line…and don’t even get me started on coupons! And, there’s the grand daddy of them all, Christmas shopping! That is the worst!

     I’m lucky I suppose…my kids are fairly easy to shop for, especially my son, so gift buying isn’t too bad. A trip to Bass Pro Shops or Dick’s Sporting Goods or the click of the mouse, enter my credit card on-line and “poof”, my Christmas shopping can be done. But sometimes, it seems a little hollow. Sure he likes an Xbox game or some new sort of hunting or fishing paraphernalia, but sometimes those sort of gifts lack the heartfelt spirit behind giving a gift…

     Last fall, I wanted to get him something different. Something from “me” and that’s when the idea hit ... “I’ll make him some hunting arrows”…I hadn’t made my own arrows for several years, so it would take me a little time to get back into the practice. I rummaged around in the hall closet and found a dozen cedar arrow shafts that had been collecting dust for years. I cut them down to length and tapered both ends to accept a nock and field tip. The shafts were sanded smooth with some fine grit paper and a once over with steel wool and I sealed them with stain left over from some long forgotten wood working project. I wanted these arrows to be special and to look “cool”, so I searched the internet and ordered the rest of my supplies that would give them just the right look. Neon green cresting wraps and bright green, barred feathers gave them a racy look and the vivid, white cock feather would make them easy to see in flight. One arrow at a time, it took me several evenings to get them finished at the dining room table, but once they were finally done, I was pleased with the outcome. I could only hope he would be as well, come Christmas morning.

     The gifts were unwrapped and the long, narrow arrow box was the last to be ripped into. His reaction was about what I had expected it to be…Video games are stiff competition for a dozen wooden arrows, but as the 3D archery season rolled around in January and on through the spring, the “green arrows” were put through their paces as he launched them over and over at the targets and I’d secretly stand behind him and smile…

     Archery season was finally here at last and both of us had been putting in hours in various hiding spots, hoping for a nice buck to come within range of our traditional bows. In my mind, my son still needs me by his side when he’s out in the woods, but the fact is, he is a very accomplished hunter and outdoorsman, even at his young age and he’s more than capable of bow hunting on his own.

   

 

      My cell phone rings and I see that it’s my son’s number calling me. At this hour in the evening, I know it can only mean one thing as I quickly answer…”Hello” barely leaves my lips as my son’s excited voice exclaims that he has just shot a nice buck with his recurve! We talk for a few moments and I ask too many questions as he explains the shot and all the pertinent details…An hour later, I meet up with him and some good friends to help take up the track. The boy leads the way and in short order, he finds traces of crimson on the ground and we follow the trail and it ends with him wrapping his hands around a fine buck’s antlers…Smiles all around and a hearty handshake to the 14 year old kid, throwing a large shadow in front of the flashlights. Then it dawns on me that the arrow used to take this beautiful animal is one that I had made for him and I realize that it’s me that has received the gift…

One last time...

     It seems the older we get, the faster time seems to pass by…especially when it comes to time spent with our children…

     It was the last evening of Indiana’s youth deer hunting weekend as we made our way around the edge of the field. The dried leaves of the soybeans bounced in the breeze of a perfect early autumn afternoon with blue bird skies and a hint of high pressure in the wind. I led the way packing our gear for the evening’s watch. Every now and then, I’d glance over my shoulder to make sure she was still there, her footsteps so light, they barely made a noise.

     I took in the sights as we hiked to our spot. The golden rod alive with the buzzing of hundreds of bees…The poplars and water maples that lined the edge of the field were doing their best to put on their fall colors of yellow and red. As we stepped into the woods, I paused for a moment and breathed in…Breathed in the smell of the damp dirt and the fallen leaves. The smell of the autumn woods and deer season. But the pause was more than to soak in the woods, it was an unconscious attempt to stop time…To stop this very moment and freeze it in my mind. The sun pouring through the tree tops. The leaves rattling in the breeze. The feel of the wind on my face. The sight of my 17 year old daughter walking in my shadow…

     We quickly made our way to our hiding spot for the evening’s hunt. An old, cobbled together log cabin. It was thrown together years ago by me with the help of my two kids, both barley young enough to lift a hammer, let alone swing one. As we took up our positions inside the now falling down shack, my thoughts floated back in time and I can still see my 7 year old daughter trying her best to drive a nail, bending more than I can count…and a smile crept across my face as I became entranced by the smell of the old sassafras logs used for the walls.

     Over the next couple of hours, our conversation was sparse. We both had high hopes for a buck to come close enough for a shot and I tried to pray and will a deer to cross in front of her sights…We talked about the squirrels and laughed under our breath at their noisy fights. We talked about blue jays and pileated woodpeckers as they squawked and carried on. We watched a hen turkey and her chicken sized poults make their way past. We talked about volley ball and school and a little about cars, but most of all, we just sat and watched as the woods came alive…

     I caught myself wondering how my 7 year old girl had turned into a beautiful young lady, seemingly overnight… “Where had the time gone”, I thought to myself. We watched as the shadows grew longer and the gray of dusk made its way to our spot. It was time to go and I knew it. But, I didn’t want to leave. I wasn’t ready for tonight to be over. Time has an unfairness about it…

 

       We retraced our steps and I knew that this was her last hunt as a “youth” and it brought a lump to my throat.  A doe made her way across the field, but neither of us even gave a thought to her shooting it…This hunt had nothing to do with antlers or venison. No this hunt was about time…Time spent between a father and his  daughter and trying to hold onto as much of it as possible.

     As if on cue, a flock of wood ducks whistled over the bean field, heading south and they reminded me that there is a season for everything and that change is inevitable and time stops for no one…

Don't Be Stupid! Public service announcement...

     I’ve done a lot of risky things in my 43 years…Some irresponsible, most unnecessary and others just plain stupid! I could’ve been the poster child for “Hey ya’ll watch this!”

     Most of my reckless acts came in my teens and as a young man feeling his way through adulthood, but even at a young age, I pushed my limits. A misspent youth I suppose… Jumping from the porch roof under an open umbrella, racing down a sledding hill in a Radio Flyer wagon or chasing a softball into the middle of a busy intersection that nearly cost me my life as a 5^th grader…Ramping an old Chevy pickup on SR 262 or defying gravity and putting a ’72 Coupe DeVille’s brakes to the test as I sped along narrow county roads. Racing motorcycles at Hilltop or knocking around in the woods and up steep banks of a gravel pit in an unreliable 4x4 without a thought of wearing a seatbelt.  Launching an old, aluminum john boat in a rain swollen Laughery near Milton and praying to make it back to the shore before getting sucked into the whirlpool at Hartford. Leaping from Arnold’s Creek Bridge into less than 6’ of water or playing stretch or chicken with a sharp pocket knife or jumping from a moving ski boat and hitting water that felt more like concrete…Yep, I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life and the ones above barely scratched the surface. And if it weren’t for the fact that my parents read these articles, I could go on and on!

     But of all my senseless acts, none were more risky or just plain ignorant than hunting from my deer stands without a safety belt. I freely admit it, for years in my early hunting career, I was never concerned about safety. As a young man, you tend to think that you’re invincible and nothing can happen to “you”…I knew the stats, but a safety belt or harness just seemed to be more of a hassle than a necessity. Then came along my kids…suddenly, as a young father of two, I was no longer just responsible for myself when I was out there enjoying Mother Nature…I had two beautiful children at home that wanted to hear about “Daddy’s” adventures while hunting and I knew that when the time was right, they’d join me in the woods. How could I not take the time to “buckle in” when I was high up in my treestand?

     For the last 17 years, there hasn’t been a hunt that’s taken place when I haven’t worn my safety equipment. The belts and harnesses have gotten better and more user friendly over the years and there really is no good excuse not to use one. Statistically, more hunters are hurt or killed from falls each year than shooting accidents and ATV accidents combined. Archery season is upon us and we as hunters owe it to our loved ones to wear our safety harnesses. No deer, no matter how large the antlers, is worth the risk of hunting from an elevated stand without taking the proper precautions.

     So fellow deer hunting addicts, get out there, chase some antlers, bring home some venison, thin the herd for the farmers, but most of all, hunt smart, hunt hard and hunt safe and come home to your family.