Season of disappointment

The first year of my retirement from the Navy was a huge year of change for me. I was newly divorced but I still owned a house with my Ex-wife which required me to interact with her more times than I would have liked. With the exception of one time though, I remained civil. I have some very good friends that opened their house to me until my own home sold; little did I know it would take 2 ½ years for that to occur! Then there was my new career and that wasn’t going as I had planned either. All in all it was a very disjointed time in my life. Normally when I’m feeling out of sorts with myself I would head to the water to go fishing but with my new living arrangements I had my boat in storage so I didn’t have that to go to.

My recent success at hunting had me longing for the fall again and my thoughts often wandered to it. In the meantime, I spent my time “hunting” two-legged Bambis! It had been over 17 years since I was dating and I was completely clueless on how to do it! My lack of success that year (and subsequent years) had me shaking my head for quite a long time.

As the year went on I prepared for the upcoming season by studying overhead maps of my hunting areas to gain insight on where good stand positions would be. One stand location really stood out to me, it was in a funnel area between two fields and I was absolutely drawn to it. As opening day was approaching I couldn’t get my mind off of that location so I decided that I would commence my season by hunting there.

Opening morning I awoke a couple of hours before daylight and quickly showered to descent myself. For my non-hunting friends, scent control is a big aspect of hunting because a deer’s sense of smell is much greater than what we possess and they use it to find and avoid danger. I got dressed in my camouflage, grabbed my bow and equipment and made a very slow walk to my stand as to not break into a sweat (ruining all of the de-scenting I just did). I climbed up to my tree stand and situated everything for the morning hunt and settled in to wait for morning to break. I don’t think I can properly convey what a glorious feeling it is to be relaxing in your stand before daybreak and watching the woods wake up in front of you…absolutely amazing! Fifteen minutes after settling into my stand I heard a noise…something of size moving through the leaves towards my stand! It is still over an hour before it will be light enough to be able to shoot but out in the darkness something is coming. I don’t get rattled easily but it is somewhat unnerving to have an unseen animal coming towards you and to have no idea what it is. I strained my eyes to try to see the intruder that was making its way to me down the same path that I took. The animal came right to the base of my tree…17 feet below me was something that knew I had come by and was trying to figure out where and what I was. Then I heard a sound I had never heard before…a grunt! Deer can communicate with each other and a grunt is a way of saying, “here I am”. I relaxed a little after hearing it because I knew I wasn’t going to have a bear try to climb up into the stand with me! LOL! The deer milled around at the base of my tree for about five minutes before moving away, then it returned as to make one last check to see where the human he had smelled had gone to and then disappeared for the rest of the morning. Forty-five minutes later there was finally enough light to actually shoot but the show was over for the day, nothing else materialized.

This following weekend I found myself climbing a tree in the afternoon to a particularly good stand that overlooked a field edge. Two of my hunting partners were hunting other areas of the farm so I chose the field edge as to put some distance between the three of us. It was a rather warm October day so I had taken my time again to keep from sweating and spreading my scent around. I had been up in the stand about an hour when I heard something approaching from my right. I looked down to see a three point buck about 35 yards away working its way towards me. I slowly stood up when his head went behind a tree and I readied myself for a shot. The buck continued perfectly to a slightly quartering away shot at 19 yards…I drew my bow, anchored the site on the vitals and released the arrow. I watched as the arrow flew straight through the buck and out the other side! The buck whirled around trying to figure out what had happened but it couldn’t see anything. I was overly excited but I should have realized by his reaction that it was not as good of a hit as I thought it was. He walked to the edge of the woods, looked wobbly to me, then stepped in and disappeared. I was on cloud nine, my first buck! I waited until what I thought was 30 minutes and I climbed down to retrieve the arrow. It was covered in dark blood, not the bright red frothy kind that we bowhunters want to see…but I didn’t know any better yet. I should have backed out and headed over to the house and let the deer bed down and die…I made a huge mistake that still bothers me to this day. I walked over to where I saw the deer go into the woods and when I did I thought I heard something move off into the woods. I went back to the house to gather up my hunting buddies to help me track and recover my first buck. Instead of waiting four hours like I probably should have, I was back with my friends less than 30 minutes later and we started to track the blood. After about 30 minutes it became apparent to us that the deer was not hit as bad as I had initially thought and we backed out to give him time to expire. I mortally wounded animal will push on from adrenaline if pressed where as an animal that isn’t pressed will bed down and expire. We came out and I headed to the store to get a good flashlight for a night tracking expedition. We went back out at midnight and after a couple of hours we lost the trail…I was devastated! The thought of mortally wounding a deer and not recovering it was almost unbearable to me! The next morning we went back out and actually found the continuation of the blood trail (on our hands and knees no less). Unfortunately it eventually petered out and we were left to do a grid search of the area. Three of us combed the area but no sign of the deer could be found…I was officially distraught. I realize that the deer was recycled into nature but the thought of me causing his demise still bothers me to this day.

I hunted sporadically throughout the rest of the season and I passed on two shot opportunities…one because I was still spooked over losing the buck and the other because I had to follow the landowner’s rules. I was not allowed to shoot “young” deer and despite having a young of the year within 5 yards and completely unaware of my presence, I had to turn down the shot. My season ended without me releasing another arrow and I still had a heavy heart over the buck earlier in the year.

Next Blog: Open the floodgates

Suggested reading: The Daily Coyote by Shreve Stockton

Drawing Blood

I spent every day I could getting myself ready for the upcoming hunting season. I shot my bow as much as possible and only work and inclement weather kept me from shooting it daily. I felt very comfortable that I could make a clean and ethical shot within 25 yards…whether or not I could actually release an arrow on a deer I had not determined yet.

I switched my focus from shooting my bow to scouting for good ambush places to hunt. I was (am) very lucky in that I have some very good friends that allow me to hunt their properties. One of the main issues confronting hunting is a lack of available hunting areas and the public areas get hammered relentlessly during the season. I had my choice of three farms to hunt and we scouted all of them extensively. All three showed good promise but I especially liked a farm in Southampton County that was growing soybeans and bordered by a swamp. We set up two stands in another farm that has always had a high number of deer in it even though I personally didn’t like it as much (and still don’t). I didn’t have the experience of my friends when it came to where to hunt so I deferred to their knowledge.

As opening day was approaching I realized that my primary hunting partner was going to be away so I was going to be by myself. As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry about opening day at all because a nasty weather system moved in and I would have been “seasick” if I had tried to ride out the storm in a tree stand. My next attempt of hunting took place at my friend’s farm where I chose to hunt from the ground in some high weeds. I was on pins and needles as I hoped that a deer would pass by but I still didn’t know what I would do if it came. I sat until dark and never saw anything other than the mosquitoes that hovered annoyingly around me.

My next attempt at hunting took place at the farm that we hung the tree stands at and once again it was non-eventful. I did hear what I believe was a deer moving through the woods but as soon as the sound got downwind of me I heard it react and go crashing through the woods…this deer hunting stuff was going to be more difficult than I thought!

My best friend and I changed tactics and decided to check out the original farm that I liked so much…everywhere we looked there was deer sign! We even saw a nice buck during the middle of the day when we were scouting in a light rain. We hung one stand and I went out and bought a tree stand of my own to hang at a later date.

I hunted a couple of more times in two other farms and I had only seen deer twice and they were far out of range. I was beginning to get discouraged, I honestly thought that I would be seeing deer on every hunt…I never realized the time I was going to have to spend in the woods without success. I did enjoy myself though, I saw all sorts of other wildlife from my elevated hunting platform…tree frogs moving from leaf to leaf, squirrels scampering about, songbirds trying to figure out what exactly I was, gray fox adeptly moving through the underbrush barely making a sound. It was all very different from any other time I was in the woods; I was now part of nature! I was an apex predator seeking my prey. Every sense I had was heighten to a level that I cannot convey to you unless you’ve been there and experienced it for yourself.

My hunting time was becoming limited as I was about to move out of the area to start my new career so on a very hot day that normally I wouldn’t have hunted on, I headed out to my favorite farm. My best friend joined me and he hunted clear over on the other side of the farm and I carried my new tree stand over to a corner of the field and set up quickly. As the day started to fade I looked up to see five does that popped out in the field in front of me…I was shocked! All of a sudden something gripped me and my bow rose…the predator within me took over. My eyes narrowed as I focused on the lead doe which was much bigger than the other four. I believe that she was the “nanny”, the next two does were probably her daughters from the previous year and they each had a fawn of their own. As I started to draw my bow the lead doe looked in my direction and I froze in place; muscles agonizing as I had to hold the full weight of my bow because I had not reached the break-over point. The doe looked away and I quickly came to full draw…I would love to tell you that everything went perfect but that would be a lie. I can only surmise to what happened because it was all a blur to me. I remember putting a sight pin on the vitals but I don’t remember which one it was or releasing the arrow. All of sudden four deer went running to my left and one went to my right…about half a minute later the other four went running in front of me as they went towards where the lead doe had gone. I thought I heard some thrashing around but I just wasn’t sure whether it was the deer I shot at or all of the deer scampering through the woods.

I settled down and tried to regain my composure and wondered whether or not I had even hit the deer. While I was waiting I heard something coming through the woods and I looked to my left and saw I doe coming up a trail with a piebald fawn following. I quickly nocked another arrow but the doe was hidden behind a bush but I had a pretty open shot at the fawn at 15 yards. I came to full draw, centered my sight on the fawn’s vitals, and released the arrow. The arrow flew true until it hit a small, half inch branch that I neglected to see and it deflected it up and over the fawn! Both deer bolted for the field but within a couple of minutes the doe was back trying to figure out what made the noise. By now I was pretty rattled at the afternoon’s events but I nocked yet another arrow and proceeded to send it over the back of the doe. As the doe and fawn ran off I sat there thinking that I blew it again…three shots and three misses. I climbed down and started to search for my arrows but I couldn’t find the one that deflected after hitting the branch or the first one I had released. I walked back to my car to meet my best friend and discuss the evening. I told him that I shot three times and I knew that I missed twice but I really wasn’t sure about the first shot so we went back to my stand. I climbed up the tree to my stand and directed him to where the deer was standing and he found my arrow…covered in blood! I climbed down and paced off to where the explosion marks were from the deer’s hooves and I’m embarrassed to say how far away it was. We followed the tracks but we couldn’t find a drop of blood anywhere. We scanned the edge of the field and as my flashlight passed by I saw the eyes reflecting back at me just inside the tree line! THERE SHE WAS!!! We went over to the deer and I couldn’t believe my eyes, what a magnificent creature she was! I put my hands on here and there was such mixed emotions within me…elation and sorrow at the same time. I had tears in my eyes yet I still don’t know exactly why. I asked my friend to extinguish his flashlight because I needed a little “quiet time” to reflect on the gravity of what I had done. I sat in silence in the darkness with my hand stroking the fur of the doe for about 10 minutes as I silently thanked the creator for such a gift. I let an arrow loose on a deer 52 yards away…I did everything WRONG!!! I was very lucky and my shot ended up clipping the femoral artery and she didn’t travel 60 yards after getting hit. All I can say is that somehow I believe that this deer was meant for me in some strange way and I vowed right there to never let an arrow loose unless I was positive that I could make a clean, ethical shot.

My best friend offered to field dress the deer for me but I had taken that life and it was my responsibility to see that the precious meat was taken care of properly. I had cleaned thousands of fish in my life but this was far different than anything I had ever done and I was somewhat apprehensive about it. My first shock came when I opened the body cavity and my hands went inside of a warm body. I know it must sound stupid but after so many years of cleaning fish I just wasn’t expecting it. I was talked through the process and I was in awe as I held her heart in my hands; what a powerful experience. We brought the deer home and cut out the tenderloins to have for breakfast and iced her down so we could process her the following day. My breakfast the following morning was the best meal I have ever had! The following day I was shown how to properly process the meat and every meal that I made from it (or any other deer) I thank the deer for giving itself to me so I may be nourished.

I had two other deer that came into range during that hunting season…one never provided me an ethical shot and the other was a six point buck that had some extenuating circumstances. Virginia allows hunting with dogs during general firearm season (which I will certainly cover in more depth in future entries) and the dog hunters will allow their dogs out to chase deer out of season to get exercise…this buck was being chased by dogs and I heard it running towards me with the dogs in tow. I came to full draw and yelled when it was 20 yards away. The buck stopped perfectly to see what had made the sound and my sight was anchored on the vitals…it didn’t feel right, that buck would not have been there if it wasn’t for the dogs and I couldn’t bring myself to let an arrow fly. I let down and the buck continued on its way.

Next week: Season of disappointment

Highly recommended reading: Coyote Soul, Raven Heart: Meditations Of A Hunter-Wanderer by Reg Darling (Note - If you are enjoying my blog you will love this book, it is everything that I hoped that this blog would be and so much more. I just recently purchased the book and I was moved by the content.)

A Stick and a String

Now that I decided that I was going attempt bowhunting I needed to purchase a bow (duh!), unfortunately it can never be that easy. I had to decide whether I wanted to go the modern route with a compound bow or the traditional route with a longbow or recurve bow. Furthermore, when selecting a bow you need to worry about things such as poundage, draw lengths, and feel…all of which I knew nothing about! It was time to enlist the aid of my bowhunting friends to get me set up correctly.

My best friend had an old compound bow that I was welcome to use if I wanted to but I wanted something that was all of my own. He prefers the more traditional, minimalistic bow and hunts with a custom made recurve bow. A recurve bow in its simplest design is just a stick and a string. The arrow is rests on a “shelf” and not an arrow rest. The hunter (or archer) must canter the bow slightly to ensure the arrow doesn’t fall off the shelf. When the hunter draws the bowstring back, the full weight of the limbs is being held. The only additional items that you will usually find on this type of bow are string silencers which deaden the vibration from releasing the string and make the bow quieter. Unlike a gun, an arrow travels much slower than the speed of sound so bowhunters are anal in their attempt to make their bows as quiet as possible. You wouldn’t think that a deer would be able to move fast enough to avoid a speeding arrow but they can and will!

Selecting a traditional bow would have caused me to go through hours upon hours of practice to get the feel of releasing the arrow properly and “willing” it to the target. Traditional archery tackle is an art form all to itself and the best archers are incredible when it comes to how accurate they are. A very good representation of the mental and physical attributes that a traditional archer goes through is represented by Nicolas Cage in The Weatherman. As someone that was very unsure of whether or not I could actually release an arrow on a live animal or not I decided to go with a compound bow.

A compound bow is the modern day version of the bow and it is worlds apart from a traditional bow. When comparing the two it is like a Ferrari compared to a Model “T”. The biggest difference a non-archer will notice is the addition of cams and pulleys. The addition of these allows for two things, a much faster arrow flight and a weight let off for the archer pulling the string…I better explain. With a traditional bow the archer needs to hold the full weight of the string as they increase the tension from drawing the string back. With a compound bow, the archer initially has the full weight of the string until it gets to a break over point and the tension to the archer is reduced significantly. The bow that I own is set up for a 60 pound draw but there is a 75% let off when I get to the break over point so while I’m at full draw I only have to hold 15 pounds back. It is much easier for a compound shooter to hold the bow at full draw and steady their self before releasing the arrow. Compound bows also usually are equipped with a sight that allows the archer to dial in where to aim for certain ranges. They usually have a specialized arrow rest to hold the arrow as freely as possible as well. Compound bows are constantly being “improved” by manufactures trying to create the fastest arrow flight available and the quietest as well. The funny thing about this is that the arrow is never going to fly as fast as a bullet so there will always be game that is missed due to an animal “jumping the string” (hearing the arrow released and reacting before the arrow hits them).

I chose to go with a compound bow simply because I knew that I could gain confidence quicker with a bow that had a sight than to have to rely on muscle memory. I went shopping with a close friend who is an excellent bowhunter and he helped me find the correct bow for myself. I selected a Reflex Buckskin (see picture above) set up for a 60 pound draw and a 29” draw length (how far you pull the string back). I had all of the bells and whistles attached to the bow and I left the store extremely happy. Now, I do need to interject something here…there are two different types of people in this world, big picture or concept driven people (like myself) and then there are the detail oriented folks. Let me just say that I am very glad I have some very close friends who are the latter because when it comes to setting up your bow, the detail oriented folks are masters at dialing everything in to function perfectly! Me on the other hand, I’d get fed up quickly and throw the bow in the corner! I have a file with every little setting for my bow (thanks Glenn) so it can be reset if anything ever goes wrong.

I brought the bow back and immediately started to practice with it and I quickly became proficient out to 30 yards. Every day that it wasn’t raining I would step outside and shoot at least a dozen arrows to keep my skill up and to make the bow feel as though it was just an extension of my body. I found that I quickly grew bored of taking aim at a static target until I was shown a “game” to help practice aim and judge distance in the field…”stump shooting”. I would go out on a trail with three friends and someone would pick out a target to aim at. Our arrows were tipped with a special type of head called a judo point that had metal prongs to keep the arrow from burying into the soil or wood. We each would take aim at the target and one by one we would shoot at it. If someone hit the target then that person would chose the next target. It was great practice because we would have to estimate the distance in real life scenarios (over hanging limbs, wind, shadows, etc…) and make compensations for it. I LOVED IT!!! It was the best way to expand my focus on putting an arrow exactly where I wanted to and the camaraderie of practicing with friends in the woods was second to none. As the year went on I found myself increasingly ready to attempt bowhunting but I was still unsure of whether or not I could let an arrow loose on an actual animal.

Next week: Drawing Blood

Factoid: Do you know the difference between an archer and a bowhunter? An archer wants to see how far away they can get away from a target and still hit it…a bowhunter wants to see how close he can get to the target and make a clean, ethical kill.

Endings and Beginnings

After five years of sea duty I was looking forward to spending time at home and increased time out in nature. All the problems I initially had with my wife seemed minor after so much time underway…absence makes the heart grow fonder is a very true statement. It didn’t take long for that phase to move on and we were back to not knowing what to do with each other. Once again I threw myself into my favorite sport of competitive bass fishing. I bought a bigger and better boat to fully suit my needs for the tournaments in which I competed.

Most of my friends that fished tournaments with me were hunters as well and they tried to tempt me into becoming a hunter too. I must admit that do to my recent experience at Tom Brown’s school, I was very intrigued. My wife had a hard enough time with my fishing obsession and I knew she would never support me hunting. She loved animals and understood hunting however she would never accept her husband partaking in it. As miserable as I was in the relationship I still tried to avoid pushing the envelope on controversial issues so out of respect for my wife, I declined every opportunity that I had to hunt.

My best friend Curt started to feed us venison when we came over for dinners. I had never had truly wild game, all of the “wild game” I had tried in restaurants was actually farmed…glorified cows for lack of a better way of describing it. I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to eating but I was actually slightly nervous about eating it; all I ever heard about true wild game was that it was gamey tasting (whatever that means). Curt happens to be an excellent cook and the meals he served could be described in one word…DELICIOUS! The problem with finding out that you like venison is that there is only one way to procure it and I wasn’t prepared to take that step.

Things with my wife continued to take a downward spiral; I was spending as much time as I could away from the house to find some sort of happiness that I wasn’t receiving at home. The bad thing was that my happiness was only temporary in nature because all of the bills from fishing were stacking up. I would enjoy my time out on the water but the minute I returned I would be thrust back into a reality of mounting debt and a failing relationship. Things really started to unwind for me after our best friends had their first child…I always wanted children but my wife was dead set against it. I always thought that she would change her mind but I was coming to the realization that she wasn’t going to.

My career in the Navy was quickly coming to a close and I was extremely fortunate to spend my final three years at the same command I had spent the previous three at. I started to look at what I was going to do after the Navy and I honestly didn’t have a clue. I loved teaching and I figured that I could change hats and become a civilian contractor and basically do the same job. I believe that the realization of my impending retirement and potential loss of income scared my wife every bit as much as it scared me…I say “believe” because it isn’t something that we discussed because we never discussed anything anymore.

The year of 2005 will forever go down as the most emotionally difficult year in my life. It started with my mother passing away suddenly in January. She had been having health issues and finally went in the hospital for exploratory surgery. A 45 minute procedure turned into four hours and later that evening we found out that she was dealing with terminal cancer. One week after being diagnosed she passed away three days shy of her 57’Th birthday from a pulmonary embolism. More tragedy struck my family when three months later my grandmother also passed away. I was wrecked emotionally and spent even more time on the water trying to bury my pain because I really wasn’t getting the emotional support I desperately needed and wanted at home.

The summer of 2005 will probably go down is my loneliest ever…living in house with someone that you are incapable of relating to anymore is maddening. I also was still reeling from the loss of my family members and feeling resentful towards my wife for her not being able to give me the emotional support I needed. The silence in our house was definitely deafening and we both lived separate lives under the same roof. For the first time in my life I found myself trying to pick a fight with her just to get some sort of response...any response! It never worked though and we continued to live in a vacuum.

In the beginning of September I had enough and I decided that we needed help to save our marriage. I picked an evening to have this conversation and prepared myself emotionally for what I expected to be the most difficult discussion in my life. I waited for her to return from work and when she did, she walked over to me and handed me a letter. Apparently my wife had enough as well and instead of trying to fix what was broken she decided it was time to desert a sinking ship. With all that had happened to me in the year I was hardly prepared to read that and as bad as things were, I had never had considered divorce…some things however are not what we get to choose.

I had hit rock bottom in my life and I really didn’t know which way to turn. I knew I had to find something positive to turn to and start crawling my way back out of this hole. After being separated for a couple of months I realized that we would not be getting back together and my path forward had to be my own. I started to think about the different things that I had wanted to do but I didn’t because of my marriage such as hunting and realized that I now had a second chance to experience these things. My best friends bow hunted and that intrigued me to no end…you had to be very close to the deer and very stealthy with all of your moves. I started to think about it more and more and went through a lengthy internal debate over whether or not I could actually do it or not…after going back and forth on this issue I finally made up my mind and called my friends. It was time for me to purchase a bow!

Next week: A Stick and a String

Recommended listening: Fred Bear by Ted Nugent

The Religion of the Outdoors

As much as I want to avoid it, I’m sure this blog entry is going to offend someone. I want to make this perfectly clear to all that read this; the views are mine exclusively and are not meant to offend anyone. I do not preach my views to others and likewise I don’t want your views preached to me. In my eyes Religion is PERSONAL; it means something different to each person…even those of the same faith do not look at it the same way.

A quick background on my religious upbringing, I was basically brought up in a Christian home. Religion wasn’t something that was forced on my brothers and I, we were left to make decisions for ourselves when it came to choose what we believed in. I dabbled in different faiths before choosing to solely believe in science even though there were plenty of questions that it couldn’t answer. The one underlying theme in the major religions that never could grasp was that you basically worshipped one day a week…and in some religions you could be the biggest ass in the world for six days but as long as you said you were sorry, all was forgiven. I didn’t get it and I still don’t.

I was given a book called The Tracker by Tom Brown Jr. and I found it fascinating. This book wasn’t a religious book by any means; it was about a man that grew up not too far from my own hometown and his amazing abilities to track wildlife. He grew up in the pine barrens of New Jersey and was “tutored” by an Apace elder in his youth. I put parenthesis around the word “tutored” because the Native American way of teaching is far different than the schoolhouse teaching that most of us are use to. I was completely captivated by the book and the stories that he told in it. I have to admit though, as much as I enjoyed the stories I was also very skeptical of the talents he professed to have…I believed it to be somewhat fictionalized to make for a better story. Regardless of it being non-fiction or fiction, I knew I found an author that I wanted to read more of.

As I continued to read more books written by him he delved deeper into Native American spirituality and philosophy. I was completely entranced in the way they related to the natural world around them and for once I found something that made sense to me. Finally there was something I could understand and relate to! My own beliefs centered on the idea that all things had a “life force” that flowed through us and this point of view was very similar to Native American beliefs. Another similarity I was drawn to was the fact that they worshiped seven days a week and not one…apparently the Native Americans also had difficulty understanding the concept of only worshipping one day a week.

Tom Brown Jr. operates a Tracker School (www.trackerschool.com) that delves into the many teachings that he had received as a child: tracking, survival, philosophy, healing, teaching, and others. All students of his must take an initial Standard Course before choosing which of the many courses of study to go down. My best friends took the Standard Class and came back with some amazing stories that wetted my appetite to attend myself. I will not divulge much of what went on in the class but it is something that will forever change the way you view the outdoors.

I finally attended the class in August 2000 and it was incredible. I still had a deep seeded skepticism over everything this man said he could do and I was extremely curious to see him work his magic in front of me. The school site was at a farm that Tom owned and classes were held inside the barn and out on the grounds. After my arrival I started to observe all of the other students and I was amazed at the cross section of people that were there: hippies, military, hunters, vegans, elementary school teachers, nature lovers, grandmothers, foreigners. I was shocked at all the different backgrounds but we all had one thing in common, we found something in Tom’s writing that drew us all together. Never was there any kind of conflict between the wildly different personnel, we all respected each other’s differences and actually spent time learning from each other…honestly, it was nice to see what this world could be if we all could come to some sort of harmonious acceptance of each other.

As I said before, I still was very skeptical of his talents and it didn’t help things when he showed up the first morning of class and told us about everything that had happened on his front lawn the night before while we were sleeping. He did this from observing the animal tracks he saw from walking about 80 yards from his house to the barn…I was unconvinced! I thought to myself that there is no way a man could tell that much detail from just walking to the barn…besides, he had a lawn full of grass! There is no way he could see anything there…right? I still was very enthused about being there and as the days moved along he and his instructors taught us the basics of tracking as well as other primitive skills. As I started to learn about tracking I started to believe a little more of his stories but I still couldn’t believe all of his wild claims…until we actually went out tracking. All the students formed a line and we were walked out one of the many trails into the woods that were on his property. After walking a little bit we were told to stop and turn around and then the real lesson began. The last person in line was shown an animal track in the forest loam (not sand or mud) and every little detail of it was explained to them. At that point it was the student’s responsibility to explain everything about the track to the other 90+ students as they came by…meanwhile the instructors had another track for the next in line. Every one of us had a track pointed out to us and we explained that track to the rest of the students…all I can say is it was magical! The closest I can come to explaining it is with those “magic eye” pictures when all of a sudden your eyes adjust and a three dimensional picture comes out…that’s tracking! We looked at tracks from everything from crickets and mice all the way up to coyotes and deer. My own personal viewpoint of my abilities in nature changed in an instant…I use to think I was pretty observant but after this exercise I realized that I was a blind elephant stomping through the woods. The other thing I learned from this was that Tom Brown Jr. wasn’t exaggerating his abilities…if anything, he was toning them down to just what we “common folk” could see and understand.

I reluctantly left that school at the end of the week with my head in the clouds; every trip into the woods would be different from this point out. I came home to try to convey the experience to my wife and she couldn’t relate in the least. I turned to my best friends to discuss the different things I had learned at the school and since they had attended the school as well, we all we’re able to relate our combined experiences. I found myself on a path back to nature however it also was a path away from my wife.

Note: If any of my friends would like to read The Tracker, please let me know! I would be happy to ensure that you get a copy of it.

Next week: Endings and Beginnings

Underway, Shift Colors!

Towards the end of my high school experience, I spent every chance I could chasing fish. I was a kid who was painfully shy around most people but get me on the water and a new persona emerged, confident and somewhat cocky. I excelled at trout fishing and I rarely met anyone I felt knew more than me. I fell into a “meat hog” stage where I harvested as many trout as I could until one day I realized that I had far too many fish in the freezer and it was time for a change…enter catch and release fishing! To be quite honest, catch and release fishing made me even cockier because I watched all these “lesser fishermen” struggle to catch a few trout, meanwhile I would be catching as many as 40 a day!

All good things come to an end and the “real world” was quickly approaching. My mother sat me down and attempted to motivate me towards buckling down and taking school serious so I would go to college. She offered me three choices for the following year:

1. Go to college and they would only pay for “A’s” and “B’s”
2. Get a job but I had to move out of the house when I turned 18
3. Join the military

Well, Mom’s ultimatum backfired on her. I knew I wasn’t mature enough to handle college; I wasn’t a bad student but I definitely wasn’t a good student either. If a subject interested me I tended to do very well, if not I would usually skate by with minimum effort exerted. Going to work wasn’t an option either! I knew I wasn’t ready to be a bill paying adult yet, I was still a kid! I chose the last choice and my mother was distraught! I enlisted in the Navy’s delayed entry program while I still was in high school and reported to boot camp three months after graduating.

The Navy was an eye opening experience for me and meeting people from all over the country was exciting. I still was a pretty quiet kid but boot camp has a way of bringing you out of your shell some. I finally started to buckle down somewhat and fishing became my outlet for stress relief; I started to care less about the results and more about the experience of being outside. I reported to Pensacola Florida for my basic “A” school, a Mecca for a myriad of saltwater species. I expanded my saltwater fishing experiences as I chased after cobia, spanish mackerel, king mackerel, pompano, redfish, and speckled trout…oh yeah; I finally started chasing after girls as well! They were never as easy to catch as the fish and at times I had some difficult decisions on whether I would chase them or fish during the weekend.

When I reported to my first ship stationed out of Norfolk Virginia I found that I really excelled at my job. I had very good mentors that grilled me mercilessly to know my job inside and out and I relished the challenge. I spent 18 months learning how to operate my gear on the USS Virginia before returning to Pensacola for a year of technical training. Just prior to my return I was promoted and I arrived back in Pensacola somewhat cocky and arrogant. For the first time in my life I had people who wanted to know me because of my success and I definitely took advantage of it. I can’t say that I’m proud of the way I behaved then…in fact, looking back now I think I was a major ass! The one thing about me that didn’t change was my love for getting outside and I spent more hours than I can count angling for fish…and girls, and I actually had a decent success rate with both.

At the end of my technical training I reported to a training detachment for the USS Kitty Hawk in Norfolk Virginia. I arrived there with all intentions of continuing my haughty ways and set my sights on an attractive girl I knew from being stationed there before. It’s funny the curve balls life throws your way when you least expect it, I had no intention of getting into a “real relationship” but somehow I fell into one. My outdoor pursuits waned some as most of my free time was dedicated to someone that was exactly the opposite of me in every way, though I didn’t think so then. A short 2 ½ years later I was “caught” and married at the ripe old age of 23. Married life required me to actually earn money to support my “family” so instead of leaving the Navy at the end of my enlistment and going to college I chose to reenlist.

During this timeframe I did start a new outdoor pursuit that was completely foreign to me; a coworker introduced me to bass fishing; more specifically, tournament bass fishing. For a cocky young man that loved to fish, this was absolutely addicting! I was able to take an outdoor pursuit that I loved and also compete in it as well…what a rush! Tournament bass fishing was unlike anything I had ever done before, instead of taking fish for the table a great deal of effort and care was spent ensuring that the bass remained alive in aerated livewells. If a fish died you were penalized severely and in a sport that is determined by ounces, this could be very costly. Bass fishing came pretty easy to me due to my intensive background in angling for other species. There were different techniques and tackle I had to learn but overall the switch to pursuing a new species wasn’t difficult. My interest in tournament bass fishing peaked soon after I was married as I found myself in a relationship that I honestly didn’t know what I was doing in. All of our differences that I thought were exciting before we were married were magnified into major relationship issues afterwards. My solution to these issues was to do what I always did when I was stressed; I headed to the water as much as possible. I purchased a boat and threw myself into the sport and as has always been the case when it came to fishing, I became very good, very quickly!

I had two people that really influenced how I fished for bass; one fished by total instinct and the other fished logically. My friend DJ would fish where and what felt right to him and disregarded what bass fishing experts would do in the same conditions. My friend Curt on the other hand, was an engineer by trade and he looked at logical seasonal patterns and patterned his techniques and locations based on that. I fell right in the middle of both of them, I would fish logically when it suited me and at other times I would do what felt right. The truly interesting thing was that all of us were successful in the local tournaments even though we had very different approaches. I also managed to acquire some sponsors after a good friend that I had taken in as my own protégé to the sport made some timely phone calls to a regional distributor and we both lucked into some entry level deals.

As much as I love this sport I can honestly say now that it was addicting to me and as with all addictions, ultimately destructive in nature. I no longer had a relief from my normal day-to-day stressors and the sheer amount of tournaments that I was competing in became additional stress. I poured my money into new and better tackle, gas for my boat, better boating equipment, and a countless other expenses (creating even more stress). I definitely used this obsession as an escape from my marriage since early on I realized I wasn’t getting what I needed and honestly, for the first time in my life my relationship with nature was disconnected as well. I stopped enjoying all the “little things” that my outdoor pursuits had always given me and somewhat resented having to go fishing every weekend. The Navy eventually gave me the break from fishing and my marriage that I desperately needed by deploying me three times in a five year period. It was during this time that I was introduced to something that would start the change in the way I viewed the outdoors.

Next week: The Religion of the Outdoors

A modern day man reconnected with nature and our primitive past through bow hunting.

How does a man that was born and raised in the suburbs of Philadelphia decide to take up bow hunting at the age of 37? The journey was interesting to say the least but when I finally reached this destination I realized that I found something much more; I found I had awakened a part of me I never knew I had. A long-suppressed past of human interaction with nature emerged and my personal relationship with the natural world was forever changed.

I intend to update this blog weekly depending on my work schedule and of course, my hunting schedule. I’ll plan to guide you through my upbringing and initial introduction to the wild world around us, all the way up to the present with my current hunting trips. You’ll be privy to all of my preparations for a future adventure in the mountains of Colorado next September. I won’t sugar coat anything at all, every high and low I experience associated with hunting will be written about…including my thoughts on controversial topics. So let's get this blog started!

Havertown Pennsylvania is a wonderful place to grow up for the stereotypical suburban upbringing…plenty of parks and playgrounds to keep kids active outside. My days were filled with playing sports at school and plenty of childhood games in our neighborhood at home. I learned to love being outside and I preferred it over any indoor pursuits. The only thing that my neighborhood was really lacking was any true outdoor pursuit such as hunting and fishing. I realize now that I was extremely lucky, I had grandparents that lived in an adjoining township that had a one acre shallow pond behind their house. I absolutely loved going there; I would spend my days fishing for bluegills, bullheads, and carp. When I would tire of fishing there was always the creek that fed and drained the pond to explore…chasing frogs and snakes along the creek was always a thrill for me. I don’t think I could spend more than 15 minutes at my grandparent’s place before I would be covered in mud; Grammy’s mud room was aptly named!

Spending time at my Grandparent’s home also had some other added benefits; my Grammy was absolutely enthralled with watching deer. Quite often we would head out for a drive through Ridley Creek State Park at dusk to see the abundant deer and other wildlife that inhabited it. On most evenings we would see dozens of deer and rabbits; occasionally we would get lucky and spy a red fox hunting grasshoppers in the high grass. I loved these drives and I became quite adept at spying wildlife because of them.

As I grew older my fishing pursuits became more fine-tuned…I still loved playing around the pond but I had graduated to chasing trout in one of the local streams. I caught my first trout at age 13 and by the time I turned 16 I was an expert! I knew that creek’s pools and undercut banks like the back of my hand. Little Darby Creek was a stocked creek that would receive heavy loads of fish in the spring and it would be heavily pressured through April and May. I would continue to catch trout through the middle of the hottest summer days when most adult fisherman would tell me that I was foolish because “all the trout had already been caught “. I never did let on to them the success I had, I would just smile and tell them they were probably right but I’m going to give it a try anyway. My Grandparents fully supported my hobby (obsession) but they definitely installed some very important values that have stayed with me. When I caught my first trout and brought it home, I was required to clean the fish myself and my Grammy immediately cooked it for me. My Grandparents wanted me to fully understand that I was responsible for the life that I took and that was fine as long as I respected the animal by using it for food and not wasting its precious flesh. This lesson and value has stayed with me throughout my life and I will not take any animal that I don't intend on eating (or provide food for another).

I was also fortunate to have my other Grandparents living in Sea Isle City at the New Jersey shore. My summer days there were spent getting up early, wolfing down some food and running back to Pier 88 where I would spend the day fishing and catching minnows to sell to the pier and my own use. Sometimes I would run home for lunch but more often than not I was happy just to spend the entire day there fishing. I never really caught any big fish, mostly little snapper blues and occasionally a nice flounder. I was at home on the pier and loved the adventure that each day there brought and I would reluctantly be rounded up for dinner. Usually after dinner I would head back to the pier again so I could fish for the little blues that would gather under the lights. I dreamed of a day that I would own a boat so I could explore the bay and ocean to catch more (and bigger) fish. Occasionally I would get an invitation to fish out of my neighbor’s boat with him and that was always a special joy. It’s funny to me now but when most teenage boys were busy chasing girls, I was busy chasing fish (sad but true).

By now you’re probably wondering why I’m talking about fishing so much if this is a blog about hunting, correct? Well this is when I started to learn about hunting through magazines such as Outdoor Life, Field & Stream, and Sports Afield. I would purchase these magazines to learn the latest and greatest on trout and saltwater fishing but they also would carry plenty of articles on hunting. After I read and reread all of the fishing articles I would reluctantly read the hunting stories. I never understood how someone could kill something as beautiful as a deer but I was still strangely fascinated by the stories. I knew that my Pop Pop (Grandfather) said that he went hunting but he never did return with anything. I think it was his way of hanging out with his best friend away from their wives but I can’t say for sure...I’m not so sure that they even brought their rifles, more likely it was golf clubs! Anyway, I never had anyone that could positively influence me towards hunting in my family. A couple of my parent’s friends hunted but my mother would never allow her oldest son to take part in such a “barbaric sport” and quite frankly, I don’t think I was ready for it anyway.

I never realized it at the time but fishing really is just a different extension of hunting. Some animal rights groups actually find fishing to be more offensive than hunting because it is something that can be done for pure sport vice obtaining food. I definitely do not take this point of view and I highly encourage parents to get their kids involved with fishing even if they themselves were not exposed to it growing up. It is a good clean outdoor pastime that does not have to be difficult to do, for less than 10 dollars a parent can equip their child with all the utensils they need to have a great time. Most sportsmen I know will go out of their way to help a parent select the equipment needed and even tell them where they can go catch a mess of bluegills. I have never met a child that didn’t squeal with delight when they caught their first fish (and second and third)! I truly believe that a child that learns to love the outdoors is far better off than one than one that loves video games.

Next week: Underway, shift colors!