Hunting Knives

This is a topic I have yet to write about although I am a big fan and admirer of well made knives. I also feel that much like firearms there's no such thing as having to many. The only thing hampering my affection for acquiring more is my checkbook. Be that as it may there is no harm in looking and drooling.
Ever since I was "old enough" so to speak, I have carried a small pocket knife. I have fond memories of my dad's slender Old Timer pocket knife and how warm it felt in my hands as a young girl. It's weight was dense, heavy for its small size and I liked that feeling.  My dad kept it razor sharp and I recall him enjoying the time he spent honing it. Pausing every so many strokes to test it on his arm to see if was shaving hair yet. Once he achieved that edge he was done and no need to remove anymore steel, just fold the blade closed and slide it in his pants pocket and put the stone away. I was intrigued by the process and little did I know to what degree that interest would carry over into my professional life.

I have had many pocket and hunting knives throughout the years, some were gifts from my dad and some I bought myself. I've always appreciated a well made tool which is just what knives are. It took me awhile to find a suitable all purpose hunting knife that could multi-task. I have a Kershaw Black Horse 2 that I use for both waterfowl and big game duties. It a well proportioned knife with a secure locking back and not a liner lock. I am not a fan of liner locks just don't trust them, especially when I need to put some elbow grease into the job.  It's stainless steel blade is 3 3/4" L. and closed it is 4 7/8" L. The co-polymer handle with it's finger grip contours is wonderful when your hands are wet or bloody as it doesn't slip in your hand. It is sharp right out of the box and is easily re-sharpened. It comes with  a nylon sheath and I am able to keep my EZE-Lap Pocket Sharpener in the sheath with it. They both live together either in my Quail Flats Gunning Box or my Kifaru Daystalker Pack, depending on the season. It also has a strong enough back that if I needed to hammer on it, it can no doubt stand up to the blow and deliver. It can also tolerate a bit of twisting or prying with the blade tip like when I'm dismembering deer and elk legs at their knees. I don't always find the sweet spot first time and sometimes a little twisting or tweaking is required. I have had this knife for close to 15 years and it hasn't let me down yet. It's a solid and versatile well built American Made knife that I can confidently recommend.

My day in day out pocket knife that sometimes doubles for skinning and cutting loose the attachments along the inside of the spine of a deer or elk to get the gut sack loose is a Gerber E-Z Out Skeleton folder. It too has a locking back and is easy to open and close. It's blade is 3 1/2" L. and an overall L. of just under 8". It is a slender knife and even though it's lightweight, it's still a workhorse than can take some abuse. It re sharpens easily and not like some Gerber's I've had in the past that seemed quite difficult to put a good edge back on. For everyday use this knife works well for me. It has a clip that I use to secure it inside the lower leg pocket on my Carhartts. The only flaw I've found with this knife is the clip indent wallows out in the handle where the clip is indexed. I have used JB Weld to resolve the problem and not allow the clip to swivel laterally and eventually spin freely. 


These are 2 of my favorite knives and including the EZE-Lap diamond pocket sharpener all 3 items can be purchased for less than $100. and all, are proudly made in the U.S.A.. Outdoor Edge has some new knives out for big game hunting that I'd like to try at some juncture, specifically the SwingBlade. If any of you have used this let me know what you think of it and if it lives up to the hype.


There are many custom artisan  knife makers out there producing incredible works of art. One of my favorites are Chris Reeve Knives and they're worth a look. In particular the Sebenza with it's sleek lines and titanium handle it is absolutely beautiful and feels wonderful in your hand. I personally don't own one yet but a friend of mine does. Hopefully someday I too will be the proud owner of a Sebenza.


 I know this barely scratches the surface of hunting knives so I'll leave it at that for now. What are your "go-to" knives and what makes them that for you? 


Women's Hunting Journal  Integrity For The Hunt 

Waterfowl I.D.

Well another season of chasing feathers has for the most part come and gone. You might ask yourself what am I to do now with all my free time? One way to continue jaunts to the wetlands is to hone your waterfowl I.D. skills. Not only will you be able to smell the marsh and plan future hunts but you'll also gain knowledge about your feathered quarry.

I'll admit it, I am a sucker for bird watching of any kind although one of my favorites is visiting a Wildlife Refuge where waterfowl are busy with courtship rituals and staking out nesting territory. We are already in the midst of waterfowl bond pairings for nesting and this is a great time to hone your I.D. skills and knowledge. Not only that but with the birds being preoccupied with one another, it allows us often to get within closer proximity so as to see the details of their plumage. With courtship comes the dazzling colors that are typically not present during Fall hunting seasons. The electric baby blue of the Ruddy Ducks bill or the dazzling eye popping cinnamon of the Cinnamon Teal with his striking red eye. The drake Mallards green head, the drake N.Shoveler, drake Widgeon and the list goes on and on.

In the waterfowl world the males are the more colorful while the females are better camouflaged for nesting purposes, this does not hold true for all bird species. For instance the Wilson's Phalorope does a complete role reversal with the female being the more colorful and competing for males with courtship displays. The males are a drab color as they are in charge of nesting duties including incubating the eggs and rearing the chicks. They are a wonderful bird to watch as they often will spin in circles in the water to stir up food. Keep an eye out for them this Spring. There are a total of 3 types of Phalorope all worth noting.

Another one of my favorites is the American Bittern and boy does this bird know about blending in to their surroundings, more so in the Fall than Spring. They are not large in stature but have a very distinct and recognizable vocal. Several times when I've seen them they have been in tules quite aware of my presence and doing their best to blend in to their surroundings. They do so by raising their bill towards the sky, staying motionless and rotating their eyes forward much like that of a chamealeon. They do an amazing job of becoming a tule with their streaked throat, breast and belly. Their very cool and one I keep an eye out for when birding. On a few occasions I've even seen them at Lowlands in S.W. OR during waterfowl season.

So if you've got the marsh blues go out and enjoy them by honing your waterfowl  I.D. skills. Be sure to take your binoculars (camera too) and a good bird identification book with you and or a friend who is knowledgeable. Here's a couple good books to get you started; Sibley Guides, National Geographic Field Guide to the Birds of N.A.. Pack a lunch and make a day of it, trust me it will keep you invigorated, satiate your marsh fix and hone your skills. Where ever you are there is a marsh or Nat'l Wildlife Refuge not to far away. Do some research online and perhaps go to a place you've never been and I like to stop in at Refuge Headquarters to get some local insights from one of their employees. They know where to go and what to keep an eye out for. Plus if there are any unusual birds in the area you may be in for a once in a lifetime sighting. Have fun!

 Women's Hunting Journal     Integrity For The Hunt

Goose Hunting & 360*

Out of nowhere my ears alert me to the incoming honks and grunts of a flock of Canada geese. These are the Giant Canada Geese, the biggest and weighing up to 20 lbs. with a wing span of 7 feet. My eyes widen like those of a 4 year old on Christmas morning watching them land in a large field just a short distance away.

Considering how many degrees of departure are available for geese, it is no wonder that we seldom outsmart them. The odds are stacked in their favor and double that in mild conditions when they're not pressured by weather, predators or food. I'm talking about pulling off a successful stalk hunt; sneaking close to geese that are feeding in a large wide open field with a 360* view. It's one thing to be able to get in close while hiding behind an elevated dike and then wait while maintaining your concealment and excitement. The anticipation is often what busts us. Usually I'll be able to hear them talking and stretching their wings and just have to take that last fatal peek, to make sure they're where I think they are. In doing so there's a pair of wise old sentry eyes pasted to the rustling sounds I made while trying to be ever so stealthy. By the time I see them they've been watching me, head and neck stretched up high and then honking alerts the others that it’s time to fly. At the first loud alarm honk, you become painfully aware you just blew any chance you had of them flying anywhere remotely in range. You're toast, pate', done for, game over and you can't believe you did it again.

 I've experienced this on more than one occasion and I know there will be more jaw dropping days of getting skunked, with my so called savvy experience and knowledge of 35 plus years hunting geese. None of that matters when ultimately you are making an educated guess, a hypothesis on the direction they will depart. I was able to even the score by one, a few weeks ago down in the Klamath Basin of S.W. Oregon.

The conditions were warm and mild with very little breeze, just a hint of wind from the S.W. rolling over the banks of the Klamath River. Ice still covered the broader reaches of the river where there was less current. I was watching a flock of 15 or so large Canada Geese land in a 40 acre field of stubble with a strip of Triticale grain to their N.E., I pondered the various scenarios and odds for a successful sneak. Also trying to guess in which direction they'd take off. I was observing them from the comfort of the cabin on the hill overlooking the landscape. My adrenaline began as I visualized a successful sneak, wait I haven't even gotten properly dressed and I'm already celebrating. Whoa, slow down and let's get back to reality.

 Considering it was New Year’s Eve the geese were well educated to slow moving vehicles, bad decoys, bad calling and the like. I knew I had to be absolutely concealed and quiet from the very beginning. So I opted to take the long way around. I didn't let them see or hear me from the hill. Fortunately my truck was on the opposite side of the cabin from where they were feeding. I drove a short distance down the back side of the hill and then parked, quietly shutting the truck door and beginning my long approach. In all it was close to a 2 mile walk give or take, but when you're sneaking, it doesn't seem so far or matter. I headed S.S.W. to the river cutting across 2 fields, 2 deep ditches and getting to the river dike then turning back to the N. on my final approach to the dike that separates them from me. The fields were muddy, wet and sloppy so I wore my Cabela's waders and dressed light underneath to minimize sweating and then chilling while I waited for the geese to get air born. It was early afternoon and the clouds were building in and a S. wind was picking up. Finally a storm is rolling in. I managed to make my way to where I wanted to be. I thought the geese would either fly S.W.N. or E. Face it, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I knew what direction they would take off in, ultimately I had no clue or scientific knowledge to base my decision on. The landscape offered me a few options of concealment that would allow me to be in range if they happened to fly near me. That was my scientific data, place hunter and gun in closest proximity of airborne waterfowl, always.

So it was and I just hunkered in and made myself comfortable for a spell, not knowing just how long that meant. I ate a good stout brunch after my morning hunt and  enjoyed several cups of strong coffee. That last cup may pose a problem in the not so distant future, if you get my drift. And as those of you know it's typical of geese, or big game to give you a shot opportunity when you are least prepared, as in relieving yourself. Just an FYI for those of you who haven't had this experience yet, believe  me it will happen.

 As I was relaxing, lying on my side in the mud and weeds my mind began to wander as it does when I'm in the field waiting for something to make its move. Off in the distance I hear dogs across the river barking, and the rumble of the train some 10 plus miles to the East of me headed for who knows where? Swoosh, I get passed over by an unsuspecting Northern Harrier as he/she hunts for rodents. The distant vocals of Ravens, Magpies and Kingfishers fill my background with familiar sounds like that of an old friend, comforting me and offering a sort of companionship. My focus drifts to the vegetation at the edge of my hunting caps bill. Watching small spiders climb the tall stalks of dead grass while simultaneously snuggling down into my high coat collar so none get to close. I can hear several voles gnashing root stalk just inches away from me. Occasionally I catch a glimpse of a vole crossing open ground going from one tunnel to another. The dike tops are riddled with vole trails and holes. They're vulnerable to hawks and small mammals when they dash above ground, and they know it too.  I ponder what their existence must be like and the myriad of tunnels they travel. My attention shifts to my shotgun barrel, the vent rib, the small brass bead at the barrels end and I trace it back to the fore-end, the silver floral engraving along the sides of the action. Feeling how my hand fits the wooden pistol grip with its fine checkering. Reflecting on all the miles I have travelled carrying this gun in my hands. We are old friends and have had some spectacular days afield together. It feels comfortable in my grip and if I could find another just like it I'd buy it in a heartbeat! This gun is close to 35 years old and has some dings and dents to show for the miles we’ve travelled. It has saved my butt on more than one occasion. Be it getting stuck in the muck or avoiding a face plant in a ditch with 2 feet of water or the time I almost broke my leg by stepping in a hole. Then there are the times it got used as a paddle when I broke mine or the time I used it to break ice so I could reach a downed Canvasback. The stories go on and I take comfort in its toughness and dependability.

Honk, wing flaps pushing air and a few more grunts and short calls. I am present again and shuffle my body to get comfortable and re-positioned in case the geese are close to lift off. I want to sneak a peek but I resist and just about that time I hear the unmistakable swooshes of air from the big birds wings propelling them upward into the sky. I shuffle once more hearing them talk and it sounds like they're coming my way. Again I resist exposing myself just yet, my pulse quickens and I feel the warm flush of adrenaline. Another 10 seconds and I can see them coming into view through the vegetation just off to my right side. The first bunch are about 10 strong and I stretch my torso upward into a kneeling position and shoulder my gun taking aim on the closest and as I squeeze off my first shot my coat collar interferes with my shot. I lower my gun grabbing my collar and stuffing it downward without thinking about it and get ready for a second shot. Irritated with myself for making that mistake I block it out of my mind and get ready for the second wave, the last chance for success and these are closer than the first. Not enough time to put in another shell so I have one chance left. I take aim and swing through leading on the closest one to me about 35 yards away. I squeeze the trigger, and continue my follow through, it's a solid hit I just knew it, yet the big goose doesn't even budge or pucker an inch. I lower my gun and exclaimed "you've got to be kidding me!" Totally and absolutely dumbfounded by the lack of response I got from a solid hit I hold on for the faintest of possibilities. My eyes are glued to the goose and it slowly starts to drift away from the others and at the same time locks its wings and is on a death glide. I only hope it lands in the field and doesn't make it to the river. I watch as it continues to drop lower and closer to the ground eventually landing. I am running as fast as I can in chest high waders through 6" of mud and uneven stubble. After about 100 yards I was out of wind and kept up a fast walk while never taking my eyes off where I had marked the goose’s landing.  Eventually I get to within range and am ready to shoot if he tries to take off. He never did, he was stone cold dead at my arrival with wings outstretched to either side, and head down in the muck. I was thrilled, relieved and impressed at the size of this Canada goose. He was huge and a part of me was thankful to have just the one to carry back to the truck. He almost made it to the river another 30 yards and I might be telling a different story.

I picked him up by his neck and felt his warmth and how heavy he is. I suspect a good 15 lbs. maybe more. After a moment or two of admiring him and realizing I'd just pulled it off, I gently swung him over my left shoulder and began the walk back to my truck. I feel the sweat trickling down my back and my face from beneath my cap. I unzip my coat and base layer to dissipate some excess heat. Soon I am sweating from head to toe and smiling every step of the way. Feeling my left hamstring from my run and hoping it's just a temporary strain. There's nothing like lying on the cold ground for extended periods of time in a less than comfortable position on wet vegetation and feeling your core temp drop, slowly pulling the heat away from your extremities. Then in a flash having to bolt upright and start sprinting. Your running feels more like your legs are encased in concrete, lacking fluidity and warmth. This is entirely muscle memory and desire driving you. Your breathing becomes heavy and labored soon realizing you have to slow the pace down. You've waited patiently and the last thing you'll let happen now is for that goose to get away because you were to cold, stiff or slow to reach it in time. You dig deep because you owe it to that bird and you’re not going to let some old coyote have an easy meal on your watch if you can help it.

Going over in my mind what just transpired and how the story will unfold as I share it with my friends. It all moves so fast in my mind yet it took several hours for it to unfold in real time. There are so many pieces to a hunt I savor each moment like it’s the last one. I do my best to absorb all the little nuances of being out there hunkered in against a wet muddy cold dike in the dead of winter. How the mud smells and the odor of wet grasses blown over by driving winds, rain and snow, the tiny insects that live in the dank vegetation and the rodents who thrive underneath the surface.  I wonder what they think if anything, when they feel us walking on the dirt over their tunnels. Perhaps it’s not worth the time for them to give it a thought. I cherish my time in the field and realize that I'm  just a visitor and though I am most comfortable out there I know well I cannot truly call it home. Not like that of the wild creatures that give me reason to return and match wits with. I am not equipped to call it home and so the quest of hunter and the hunted will continue far beyond my years. Enjoying the successes as well as the disappointments for they are all parts of what we call hunting and the 360* of possibilities.

Women's Hunting Journal  Integrity For The Hunt

Doubled Up

I manged to peel myself away from my temporary home for a few days to go south and see what Lowland Farms looked like. I hadn't been back since last March's Spec hunt. I must say that the primary reason for my tardy return was the poor condition of the landscape. There was hardly any natural cover left on any of the dikes making it next to impossible to hide or camouflage oneself from the sharp eyes of wary waterfowl. That is unless you happened to be a Muskrat or leech. So with expectations in check, Jet and I loaded up and headed south. At the very least we could enjoy the wide open spaces watching raptors, coyotes and Magpies. I wasn't sure if there was going to be much in the way of waterfowl present or not.

The weather was mild so far this year with an abnormally low snow pack and very little precipitation to date. I loaded all my gear just in case, as conditions can and do change rapidly when storms start to roll in. As we hit the edge of the property I was starting to feel optimistic. I was seeing a lot of vegetation and excellent cover on the dikes that were for the most part de nuded last March. Mmmm I thought to myself, this may be alright after all. I began to visualize in my mind all the ditches and places where I've found late season dabblers. The myriad of options began flooding my head as we pulled up to the cabin on top of the hill. It was late afternoon and not enough time to get a walk in so we unpacked the truck and settled into the cabin. After I put food away in the frig, turned the water on without any blown pipes(thankfully) and got a fire going in the wood cook stove, I took a good look over the fields and river with my binocs.

There were some divers in the river and nothing in the fields, no geese at all. In some ways not seeing any geese didn't bother me to much since I wasn't able to dig my ground blind out of my storage unit. It's buried deep in there, somewhere.
So we enjoyed a relaxing evening as the sun set watching the few hawks and Magpies fly the friendly skies.

I still had a couple days before the close of Pheasant season and if at all possible I wanted to get Jet on a big late season rooster. I kept an ear open for the cackle during my morning walk along the Klamath River. There was still some ice on the river in a few of the deeper bends where the main current runs wide of. I had to be selective of what I shot since Jet(now retired) was keeping the cabin warm. I don't swim well in icy water and whatever I shot had to sail onto dry land for me to retrieve. I chose to head downriver and check out Porto's point first then make a loop across the fields to another ditch. Just as I cleared the end of the ditch a pair of Mallards gained my attention with their wing beats and flush off the water. They flushed close, not far from the head gate and I was surprised to see them as I had passed them on the road paralleling the ditch. Fortunately they were feeding along the edges where the vegetation droops over the cut bank, essentially shielding us from each other. I swung to my right, shouldered my Beretta 20 ga. told myself to take my time and not rush my shot cause I may not get another for a very long time, as in next year. I got on target dropping first the hen and then the drake. I was able to retrieve both with ease and wished I had Jet with me, as those would have been perfect  retrieves for an older seasoned vet like herself. Darn I thought, so I perked my ears for that outside chance of a Pheasants cackle just for her.

I walked along the river dike listening for Whistlers and the like. I indeed heard them only problem was that they were well out over the river and off limits for me to retrieve. There were also plenty of Scaup and the usual array of Buffleheads too. So I started to loop around and cut across the fields before returning to the cabin. Maybe some more dabblers will swing over and check out the open ditches. It was getting close to noon and I never did get another shot. I arrived at the cabin and said hello to Jet and had a bite to eat. Took my waders off and relaxed a spell. The weather was starting to turn with winds and rain in the forecast. I let Jet out to stretch her legs and just about that time the wind really started to pick up. Oh boy, I said to myself this may be a good storm approaching. I processed my pair of Mallards and got the stove stoked up and just sat back and watched the storm roll in. I was content with my good fortune and so I decided to call it a day and see what tomorrow would bring.

Women's Hunting Journal  Integrity For The Hunt

Review: Darn Tough Socks

Well, just as their name implies these Darn Tough Socks are just that and more. The best socks that I've had of pleasure of wearing to date. Make no exceptions that these are pure 100% ultimate blissful comfort for little doggies.

May sound like pretty strong language, although I am very impressed with how well these socks wear and their comfort. Let's just go over some of the finer points of Darn Tough Socks.

• They are 100% made in the U.S.A. in Northfield Vermont.
• They have been making socks for 30+ years.
• Next, they are made with a blend of Merino Wool and have a very high knit stitch count per inch which equates to increased durability without bulkiness. 
• The fit is exceptional with seams strategically located so as not to irritate and cause discomfort or blisters. 
• Non itching. 
• Unconditional Lifetime Guarantee! 

I own 3 different models and weights of Darn Tough Socks and am completely happy with them. I have 2 pair each of  No-Show Mesh ($13.95pr.) for summer cycling & 2 pair of Merino Wool No-Show ($16.95pr.) for cool weather cycling. Both of these have performed flawlessly and have the durability that lacked from another well known name brand. The other socks were failing in the toes after only a handful of  wearings and just didn't have the comfort, fit and feel good quotient that Darn Tough Socks do.

 For hunting I have 2 pair of Over-the-Calf Full Cushion ($23 pr.) and 1 pair of Boot Sock Cushion ($21pr.). When the mercury drops I really like a sock that comes up to my knee and stays up. These do all that and at the end of the day they continue to feel good and not get packed down, damp or bunched up. My feet are just as happy at the end of the day as when I began. I certainly can't say that about all the socks I've worn. Their shorter version is just as wonderful for warmer weather and kept my feet dry, comfortable and content for long days afield. They have a large variety of weights, densities, heights and variety to cover all the bases. From cycling, running, casual, hiking, hunting and military there's plenty to choose from.

As a self employed woodworker I am proud to produce American Made products and support American Made businesses. For me it's a no brainer and now I am doing my best to have a drawer full of Darn Tough Socks for all seasons.

Here is another link to their site, plus a You Tube video of their factory in Northfield Vermont. 

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with nor have I received any product or financial compensation for this review. This is my honest and unsolicited opinion, expressed in this review.  

Women's Hunting Journal  Integrity For The Hunt

PJ BUCK

I had put in a lot of days and hours in the timber trying to find a buck and punch my tag. Hunting an area I have become very familiar with and learning its secrets with each day I spent in search of my Muley buck. The only problem was that not unlike past early rifle seasons, it was bone dry in the Jack Pine forests. The Bitter brush and pine needles were giving away my location with just about every step. I slowed way down, so much so that it was becoming fatiguing. My leg muscles were not accustomed to holding my foot up while I looked for a quiet-er spot to step. It became a wonderful sort of meditative stalk challenging my balance, strenght,  coordination and patience. It also brought me back to my alpine ski racing days in the sense of having to look many steps ahead and plan my route, much like skiing Slalom or Giant Slalom. All the while scanning visually throughout each step for that glint of white or an out of place branch. Something a bit askew that becomes an ear flicking from front to back and a glistening black nose that turns and catches you with eyes sharply focused, and you've just been busted!

I travel fairly light when I hunt this area, as I can hunt directly from my friends house without having to fire up the truck. I relish this experience and the ability to hunt right off the front porch and not having to drive to a specified location.
Hunting the timber means having to wait a bit longer for sufficient shooting light. Oh no problem, perfect to nab a second cup of strong coffee. I have adapted well without issue on that front. The early mornings are cool with temps in the 20's and low 30's then warming to mid 60's or even 70's by afternoon. Layering is key as is typical for Fall. I love the crisp mornings lightly frosted and the smell of seasonal changes as it stirs memories of past hunts, those successful and others not so much. More so the possibilities of what hunting encompasses and that of which is vast and leaves much to be experienced, even after close to 40 years afield. Every year, every hunt is special and unique, no two are ever alike .  .  .  thankfully!

Oops I digressed, back to my buck hunt. As I was noting the challenges  of an early season hunt there was plenty of fresh sign. There were  well defined rub lines and also lots of scrapes. Some of them were separated by not more than  a quarter mile, thus indicating several bucks in the vicinity. Just wasn't able to catch them in their zones during daylight. I did sneak in on a large doe the first evening and watched her browse on Bitter brush for about 10 minutes. It was fun mirroring her and finally we parted ways as my focus turned back to looking for horns. Mind you I am not a horn hunter, I don't have the luxury shall we say of being such an accomplished hunter or availability of multiple tags to fill each season. Oh and lets not forget location, location, location. Just as important here as in real estate, in fact maybe more so. After hunting hard for the better part of a week I returned to my temporary home for a day to regroup, rest and recharge.

I was optimistic as the forecast was finally calling for precipitation before my hunt was to end. Phew, I thought to myself this is just what I needed and indeed found new inspiration and focus. There were only 3 days left to the 10 day season and I was back with patience renewed by a brief respite.

I heard a distinct single "thump" that made my heart jump and my body stop in a nano second. It was the unmistakable sound of a hoof thumping semi hollow, duffy ground. My pulse quickened as my eyes strained to hone in on the location of this deer. I didn't know if it was a buck or doe. A flash of brown streaks through the trees and I catch a glimpse and follow its direction. I am squatting down and ready to shoulder my rifle if I am so lucky, and if I can muster a shooting lane akin to Swiss cheese. The deer stops less than a hundred yards away but I still can't see any horns. I slowly move to my left to gain a sliver of a shooting lane. Snort and then a series of "blows" and I'm busted as the deer alerts all creatures in the vicinity that there is a threat about. I did see a large bodied deer with big ears and a white rump but never did see horns. I surmise that at least I got a little closer than  previously, as most times out I hadn't even see a deer. Ahh, dang it as my heart sank a bit and at the same time feeling more motivated. The clouds were moving in and temps were on the rise from early morning. By mid afternoon the smell of rain was in the air. I was thrilled as I had only 2 more days left to hunt.

I returned to where I was staying and settled in for the evening and as is my habit, brought my rifle in the bedroom with me. More so as an optimistic possibility if there just happened to be a buck within eye shot of my friends house. I slept well and woke hours before daylight and stepped out to the front porch to take inventory of the weather mans accuracy. Yes indeed it had and was still raining. Yes, yes, yes, about time I exclaimed to myself, finally!

 I had a quick breakfast and waited for the downpour to subside a bit. Another  friend stopped by and we were shooting the breeze about my hunt so far and as he looked out the window he said, "there's some deer out there". This was about 7:30a.m. and the rain had turned to drizzle, so I thought to myself it's time to get dressed and get out hunting. I jumped out of the Lazy Boy and ran to the kitchen window just about the time one of the guys said "hey one of them is a buck, Terry do you have your rifle in the house?" I was already half way to my bedroom peeling up the carpet in my slippers at the time. I exclaimed excitedly, but quietly that I sure did and was fast en route to the laundry room door. There were 4 deer total and 1 little buck hanging with the girls. I looked at my friend over my right shoulder as I began to open the door and he was opening the clothes dryer door to stop it. I took a knee and took aim then squeezed and nothing! Dang it forgot to take the safety off, regroup. Internal conversation was something like this; try again, stay calm, focus, breathe don't get ahead of yourself, remember to squeeeze the trigger. BOOM! The little 2 x 3 buck dropped right in his tracks at 60 yards, the does scattered instantly. PHEW what a relief. I actually listened to myself and did what I needed to. Even being able to watch the little buck drop through my scope, never flinched or pulled the shot.

Hugs all around and the rain began to come down harder again. The boys were on their way out to look at my buck and I flew to get changed out of my pj's(literally, flannel pants, deerskin slippers and a sweatshirt) and into my Carhartts, flannel shirt and some decent footwear. Mind you, not exactly my typical hunting clothes.  None the less I had made a good shot, high through his neck not wasting an ounce of meat. It was also my first harvest with my Roberts 256 that I'd bought from my friend Larry 2 summers ago.

I had worked my tail off hunting for my buck and not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth I took the shot that presented itself. I had learned much in the days leading up to my success. I was patient and persistent and in the end who knows how it might have been different. This was how this hunt unfolded and I wouldn't trade a minute of it. I had a blast from start to finish and learned some things along the way too. It didn't take long to get my buck skinned,  field dressed and bagged up hanging. Wow, it happens so fast when you finally get the shot you've been looking for. That is one reason why I enjoy the entire process of hunting. All of it from start to finish. Ultimately leaving me dreaming about the next hunt, whenever, wherever that may be.

Women's Hunting Journal   Integrity For The Hunt

In The Wings...

Wow, time has sure flown by since my last post in March of 2011. There have been plenty of changes going on behind the pages of Women's Hunting Journal. After more than 2 years of doing my best to sell my home it finally happened this past September. Plenty of ups and downs along that road all in itself. I'm sure those of you who have had the pleasure of selling your home, know about the complete and utter upheaval that follows. That being said I am currently in the market for a new home in Central Or.  Jet continues to be a wonderful companion and quite flexible with our current living arrangements. She is a blessing to be sure.

While my time afield this year has been limited my thoughts are filled with memories of past seasons. I know this is a transition year and temporary in nature. I truly never thought I would have so few days afield as I have had this year.  To date only a few hours of interspersed waterfowl chasing while John and I pursued the bigger quest, that of a bull Elk. We were in them everyday but one and yet never did see a bull. That was all our tags were valid for. To bad cause if we'd had cow tags we both had opportunities to fill those. That is Elk hunting for you. I was successful in drawing a Buck tag and I even have a good story to share that I'll save for another day. One of not looking a gift Buck in the mouth, so to speak.

I am glad to be back on the pages of WHJ and thank you for your continued support. I look forward to catching up on reading my favorite blogs and adding more to the list.  Hope you are all pursuing your passions and making the most of every day.

Women's Hunting Journal   Integrity For The Hunt 

Review: Kiwi Camp Dry Products

It has been a long winter here in central Oregon and a wet one at that! The early waterfowl season found me not in the marsh, but rather chasing deer and elk. By the time I got around to waterfowl hunting the weather was downright wet and wild. Lots of heavy snow during late Nov. and most of Dec. which was certainly needed. I was going on a few short hunts and eventually my hunting coat was starting to lose its ability to keep me dry during the heavy snows and subsequent rainy periods. Fortunately for me I was contacted by an individual from Kiwi Camp Dry products who asked if I'd be interested in testing their products and then giving a review? I was to eager to oblige and learn first hand about the kiwi Camp Dry line of products.

The two items I tested were the Kiwi Camp Dry Performance Fabric Protector and the Heavy Duty Water Repellent.

The Fabric Protector is perfect for repelling water, dirt and stains on all of your synthetic, nylon and Gore-Tex® fabrics. With their unique, quick drying, non-silicone, fluro- polymer formula you can protect your outdoor items without having to worry about discoloring and or affecting breathability. I found the spray cans to be very user friendly and was pleasantly surprised at just how many coats and other items I was able to protect all from one can while still having some left for next season. It worked very well on my waterfowl coat and did in fact keep me dry the rest of the season.

The Heavy Duty Water Repellent is a silicone based product that bonds to leather and fabric to create an extremely tough water barrier. I used this product on the rain fly of my tent and it did a great job and made it repel like never before, honestly! I am looking forward to treating my wall tent snow slide also. It is coated nylon and I can just imagine what the silicone will do for it when it comes to alleviating a snow load!

Both items come in user friendly sizes that can easily be tossed in a bag or your rig so that you've got them with you when you need them. The directions are easy to follow and just make sure you are in a well ventilated area when you use the products. These products are well worth it in my book and have come along ways from the days of scotchguard.

I want to give a big thank you to Erin for supplying me with the Kiwi Camp Dry items and to let you know you've made me a believer!


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Disclosure: No financial gains were made from this review, nor am I an affiliate merchant with this company.

Merry Christmas To All

While I have been away from writing here on Women's Hunting Journal I have been trying to find areas to hunt waterfowl. It has been a challenging season so far. With an early freeze down south followed by several weeks of my attention needed on a new machine I purchased for my woodworking business, I have had a somewhat dismal waterfowl season.

I just returned yesterday from the Klamath Basin after attempting to harvest a Christmas goose. I spent a few days dug in and laying on my back in my ground blind and never fired a shot, nor did I ever see or hear more than a hand full of geese. Just not many birds using the area in which I hunt. So Jet and I came home and stowed our gear in hopes of a better hunt the next time. The landscape was beautiful with 4 to 6 inches of snow and the water table very high as it didn't take me long to get to water while I dug in my ground blind. I have learned a few tricks in staying dry and warm while hunting in cold winter conditions. Some of which include laying a white vinyl shower curtain down first, followed by decoy bags that have the foam padding in the back area, this helps tremendously to insulate from the cold ground. After that I lay my ground blind down and add an old fashioned ensolite pad to the inside of it. With my three layers in place and provided I have worn the right layers I am as warm and dry as a bug in a rug. Only thing missing was the crackling from the wood stove.

I set out 6 full bodied GHG decoys, 18 standard G and H shells and 6 G and H 747 shells. I had cut and carried with me cover in which to brush in my ground blind. From where I laid looking out through the mesh head cover all systems looked good. The full bodied decoys were enticing as they moved with the slightest breeze. All that was missing were the real birds in hopes of giving me the opportunity for a Christmas goose. There's a reason why it's called a wild goose chase. Good thing I have a few from last year still in my freezer.

Jet and I wish you all a very Merry Christmas with lots of good cheer!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

The Big Freeze

I arrived home from a recent duck hunt just in time to spend the following day snow blowing and shoveling for the better part of 7 hours. All things considered I was no better off staying in Klamath County hunting ducks. The freeze is upon us now and here for the duration I'm afraid. Morning temps well below zero and a high in the teens. I had only made two trips to hunt waterfowl and now all the flooded fields are solid ice and the Klamath river also now with dangerous shelf ice and the potential for a full freeze across it's width. It has been many years since I've seen that river froze up tight as a drum, but this may be the year of a repeat performance. When I awoke at 3 a.m. Monday morning due to high winds slamming the little cabin and it's creaking sounds, I was hoping to get back to sleep for a short while. I never did and finally got up at 5 a.m. to a chilly 41 degrees inside, brrr. I fired up the wood stove and said hello to Jet and stalled her from her breakfast for as long as possible. Her internal clock is far better than any watch I've ever owned when it comes to her meal times. I got my cereal and coffee going and snuggled up to the wood stove. I mentally went through the packing of gear and cabin shut down checklist. The previous night it had snowed 5 to 6 inches and the west winds whipped up the Klamath into a fine froth of whitecaps.

On Saturday afternoon when we arrived it was brisk and quite comfortable. We took a lap around to jump our favorite ditches. We did get a nice Mallard, 2 Ring Necked ducks and we flushed a few Snipe, of which Jet made nice retrieves. In hindsight I wish I'd spent more time focused on hunting Snipe, as this was one of their last nights spent here before continuing on their migration south. Some of the ditches had thin layers of ice forming as did the flooded fields. Very few ducks in either places with the exception being the Klamath River where there were quite a few divers.

On Sunday the weather was turning colder with snow flurries, strong winds and white caps on the river. Jet stayed in the cabin as it was to dangerous for her to go in the river and I didn't want to take any chances. With her hearing about gone she is on auto pilot when a bird goes down and I didn't want her to get into trouble, or myself for that matter in rescuing her. I had a few good shots on a drake Spoonie and 1 Pheasant. The Spoonie was close enough for me to wade to it. I had to work hard to find the Pheasant, as he piled into a wide swath of tule's next to the river. This particular patch is dangerous because it has hidden water holes that are quite deep and ones footing is somewhat challenging. Tough enough for hunters but even worse for our 4 legged partners. They get more tangled that one can imagine, plus if they go front feet first into a water hole it can be life threatening. I've had to pull Jet out a time or two before when she's gotten herself into a predicament. When she gets that Pheasant scent in her head she is like a dog on drugs, she will not stop until she flushes them or I physically pull her out of there and convince her to come with me. Pheasants truly are her drug of choice.

Back to my story of retrieving the Pheasant without Jet's assistance. I spent a good 1/2 hour looking and had no luck finding the bird. I decided to walk the dike towards the old boat dock and loop around the field side of the dike in hopes of flushing the other rooster that I missed. After the better part of 1 and 1/2 hours I never did flush the second Pheasant and was now back up river from where I had dropped the Pheasant. I looped back to the river side of the dike and proceeded to go look some more for the downed Pheasant. I again "marked" the point from where I shot and took a straight line and this time after about 15 minutes I had succeeded. I was out to far before and made my way back in just a little and there he was crumpled in a pile, still warm to the touch. I was ecstatic as I hate to lose any bird or animal that I shoot. I was laughing to myself that Jet typically goes to short and now I tend to the opposite. Somewhere in there is a happy medium I'm sure. I felt like I deserved a can of Alpo for my efforts.

Throughout the day the snow squalls came and went as did the gusty winds. I retired to the cabin before quitting time and was happy to get my birds field dressed before darkness set in. The temperatures plummeted that night and I wondered if the cabin pipes would freeze and if there would be any birds left come morning. I knew with the temps being in the single digits the only open water was going to be the river. While I love to hunt the river it's no place to be by yourself in a winter storm. Even in fair weather early season hunts, I won't use my boat unless I've got a friend hunting with me. So the stage was now set for the arctic blast and big freeze of 2010. Jet and I hit the pavement at 0630 after a windy night in the cabin. The roads were glazed ice and not more than 3 miles down the road did I see my first SUV in someones front yard with a sheriffs patrol vehicle next to it. Driving north along the Upper Klamath Lake is a dangerous and treacherous piece of real estate. We drove slow and steady reaching home in a little over 3 hours for 120 miles. Happy to be home and looking forward to a good nights rest before we had to start the chore of snow removal in the morning.

As I sit here and type this story I am thankful for many things, even the ability to do the not so fun ones like snow removal. Jet and I want to extend our very best to you and your family and friends for a wonderful Thanksgiving. Please take a moment and think of those who are serving this country in harms way and their loved ones. We are fortunate to live in a wonderful country and lets not forget that freedom is not free. Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Be safe out there.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt