Spring Goose Hunt

I am preparing my gear for the White Fronted and Snow goose hunt in the Klamath Basin which begins on this Saturday. My friend Jackie will be hunting with me on opening day before she returns to the bay area on Sunday. A few weeks ago I wrote about when we hunted the last weekend of the regular season. This was her first time ever goose hunting and she did get her first goose, what an experience. Pt.1/Pt.2. She is once again eager and ready to get after them and has purchased a Final Approach Express ground blind and some other water fowling gear to use this time. I am relatively sure that we have a new waterfowl hunter in our midst. She is talking of next season already, this is a good sign! I too have some new items to field test, cabin test and will report my results when I return. Jet too is ready to get back in the field and enjoy some mild weather hunts. Sure hope to get her a few birds, that would be great.

The weather has been unseasonably warm and mild which I hope translates into the Northern migration having begun. This year we can harvest 2 White Fronted Geese and 4 Snow Geese per day. I have yet to shoot a Snow goose and am really curious to find out for myself if they taste as bad as I've heard. If so then perhaps thuringer is the way to go with them. I know that Specs (aka White Fronted) are the best goose out there and I am already licking my chops just thinking about getting a few of them back home. Have even bought a hundred Texas Rags for the Snow Goose decoys and am looking forward to seeing just how well they work. They are sure time consuming in their initial set up. Certainly something to do prior to the hunt.

That's all for now, will catch up next week with a hunting report and some photos. Also will let you know how the new gear and decoys work.

Otherwise I have been watching the Olympics and rooting for the home team. Sure were some wicked falls in the women's D.H., I can't watch those crashes, just hurts to damn much. Sure am happy for Lindsey Vonn and Julia Mancuso's results. Congratulations Team U.S.A.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Catching Up

I know that I have been away from the blogoshere for awhile and just wanted to give you an update.

The Annual Quail Flats Wild Game Feed went off without a hitch and there was plenty of great food and tall tales. The favorite dishes included, Elk Kabobs, Venison Stuffed Mushrooms, Parmesan White Fronted Goose and some killer PB Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies. Which reminds me, I still need to get that cookie recipe. We had somewhat cool weather yet the 2 dozen plus friends that came were dressed and ready for anything.

Since the game feed I have been increasing my activity level as my knee allows. I am very relieved and happy to say that 4 months after the accident I am roughly at 80%. Still need to be careful, yet able to do cardio and some strenght training. I anticipate a full recovery by 6 months.

Not long after the game feed I got knocked down by a bug and it took me several weeks to get back to my routine. Since then I have made some changes in the kitchen, primarily eating a lot more veggies and generally very clean food. This may sound a bit contrary to being a huntress. Yet as I get older it becomes more challenging to stay fit and healthy. I'll still have the occasional cookie and good ol' cheeseburger, just not as often. Since tweaking my food I have had my energy levels skyrocket, am sleeping better and have even lost a few pounds. Geeze, nothing wrong with this recipe! Now I just need to sell this home and get back into Bend. My overall goal is to see just how good I can stand it!

I will be posting once again yet not as often as before. I am sorry for not giving you all a heads up. Thank you to the folks who have checked in to see what happened to me. Rest assured I am thriving and doing well. I just needed a break from writing. I look forward to catching up with my regular followers and meeting some new ones.

For now, have a great day and make it count!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Milestones, and Other Drivel

Ah yes it has been a year to the day since I started Women's Hunting Journal. My how fast the time flies. Lately I have not been keeping up on my usual 2 to 3 posts a week. Life in general has interjected along with perhaps a bit of burn out.

I am amazed as to how many new outdoor blogs have begun in the past year. It is great to have more women writing about their hunting and fishing experiences. I enjoy reading the wide variety of women's blogs. More on this subject in a later post.

What's new here on the home front? Well, getting ready for the 8Th. Annual Quail Flats Wild Game Feed in two days. Thankfully I have finally gotten some major new tunes on my IPod and have lots of rocking music to prep the 20 ducks, 5 Specs and 40 Venison Stuffed Venison Mushroom Caps. I love my music and a great cup of strong coffee, gonna need both for these recipes! More on the specifics of the recipes later. There will be about 25 people here and it looks to be another fun wild game feed full of new recipes and many old favorites. There will be hunters, non hunters and future hunters too. No doubt plenty of tall tales, reminiscing of past adventures and dreams of hunts to come.

Other news is that I am now Twittering. I am not an expert at it yet , but I am dabbling and doing my best to catch on. So it's just another way to keep up with the Head Quail during this busy Spring. I hope you'll give it a try following and who knows, you may really enjoy it and I'll be following you.

My knee continues to improve and I look forward to getting out Bear hunting come May. Hopefully by then I'll be able to get to where I want to hunt and the hillsides will be greening up. Not going to do a lot of hard hiking, just more spot and stalk and keep my fingers crossed. We have had a few days of warm weather but I still think we need more to melt the snow and get the grasses growing. My hunt goes through the end of May and with some luck the weather will heat up so the grasses can green up.

That's about it for now, thanks for checking in and I'll have some good recipes next week and some pics from the Game Feed. Til then have a great weekend and be safe out there!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Scrambling, Spinning and Quandering

Where in the world has the time gone? I have been in a vacuum of sorts lately. Spinning in circles and wondering if I am making any headway at all.

Spring cleaning turned into staging my house to put it on the market. It has never ever been this tidy or clean. If anyone is interested in a nice home that is an easy keeper here in Central Oregon please raise your hand NOW! Time for me to scoot back up the road and get into Bend proper. Here's the listing information and as always please email me with any questions.

What else is new? Well going to see the Dr. this morning and hopefully I will be able to start doing some cardio. my knee is doing much better and with the warmer weather just days away I am really getting the itch to get out on my road bike. In all reality though that may not happen for a bit longer. Patience, patience, patience. I do realize in the big scheme that it's only been 2 1/2 months since I got hurt and I only wish I had a faster metabolism these days. I'll tell you, when he says I can start walking miles, you can bet I'll be putting them in! So will my little hunting buddy Jet. Time to shed a layer and I'm not talking clothes either.

My work in the shop has come to a screaching halt and I continue to stay optimistic in an ever disappointing economy. It's better than the alternative in my book. Guess I'll make some more bird houses. I am hoping to get down to Lowlands in May and do some birdwatching. It's a great place and a wonderful time of year. The mating rituals are in full swing around here now. Have lots of Red Crossbills, White Crowned Sparrows and some Tree Swallows hanging around my home now. Several other species too, but those are the cream of the crop for now.

The 8th. Annual Quail Flats Wild Game Feed is scheduled for next weekend and looks to be a wonderful turnout with all sorts of good food. Will let you know the details post event. Lets just hope it doesn't snow.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Spring Fever

I have been busy doing lots of different jobs since the weather has been improving. It's been tough to sit down inside and work when the sun is out and getting warmer each day. The Western Bluebirds and Turkey Vultures are back and that's a sure sign of Spring.

Here's the update on my partially torn mcl ligament. Three weeks ago I was given an injection after no improvements during the prior 5 weeks. The injection is called PRP, which stands for platelet rich plasma and thankfully that has lived up to its hype. I am finally able to sleep better, have less pain throughout the day and am gaining full range of motion. It is still going to be a long haul as I am not doing any cardio or strenght training yet. Cardio will be introduced first and that will give me a base to eventually begin strenghtening exercises for my quads and hams. My oh my how fast the muscle disappears. At least I was able to avoid surgery and I credit the years of weight lifting to the fact that this is only a partial tear. Clearly I will be walking in circles to the left come Fall. I have already informed my hunting partner John of this and he just chuckled. With any luck they'll be big circles.

I have also been spending time outside raking pine needles and generally cleaning up from Winter. It has been great to be outside without having to wear 5 layers and feel the sun warming my skin. Mind you though we just had 6" of snow a week ago. That's how fast things can and do change here on the high desert. I have also been doing some Spring cleaning inside my house and garage. Putting away random items from a lingering damp Spring. One item of particular note was the retiring of my first real hunting hat. The Elmira Fudd hat as hunting partner John called it. It was time and I knew it was coming for awhile. After I stepped in that Beaver hole and took on pocket water filling the back of my game vest and also my hat, while drying it over the wood stove it shrank considerably. I tried to gently stretch it out but to no avail and one of the chin strap ties broke too. The hat was an original from L.L. Bean that I bought back in 1978. They no longer make them and had I known how much I was going to use it I'd have bought another just to have in reserve. These days I do buy two of something that I know I will use especially if it seems like it might not be around for long. So I said goodbye to my old chapeau and thank you for the many miles we've travelled together. Your service was first rate and unparalleled. You will be greatly missed and remembered fondly!

The other bit of business that has kept me away from writing posts has been the little wood wagon. This project was completed and delivered this past Thursday and the new owners were delighted. A bit of history about this project. I have built several items for this couple including a coffee table, entertainment center and a side table all designed around their dining table. They now wanted a new wagon to match the rest of their furniture. This wagon is used to bring in firewood from their garage and sits next to the wood stove, all in one clean trip. After much discussion and research on all our parts and some trial and error we finally were directed to an Amish fellow who builds wood wagon wheels. To make a very long story shorter we got the wheels and undercarriage hardware a year after we began the project. It took some figuring and correspondence to the wheel builder to get the information required to assemble the undercarriage. Suffice it to say after a few phone calls and 2 letters with some drawings we had what we finally needed. We then had to provide the axles, nuts, bolts, washers and do some machining. The fellow I built it for he and I spent 2 days laying it out and getting the proper hardware and doing a mock up with a piece of 3/4 plywood. Eventually we succeeded. This was prior to my injection which laid me up for a few days and there after limited my activity for the following 2 weeks. My job was to build the upper rails, sides of the wagon, color stain and lacquer to match the rest of their furniture. Also trying to find a material to cover the steel band that wrapped the wood rims so as to not damage their tile and carpet.

I eventually tried tuffy tire liners and they worked great. Tuffy's are a flexible plastic that are used on bicycle wheels and placed between the tube and inside of the tire to prevent punctures. I used 2 coats of contact cement on both surfaces and it worked fine. Then cleaned them up and trimmed off the excess width. It took considerable time to make the upper assembly and then do the finish work. The wagon rolls with ease and maneuvers nicely. All in all I was very pleased with the final results. Best of all so were my friends who I built it for. It wasn't long after I hired him to work for me that he returned the favor and a fast friendship began. What a pleasure indeed.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Spring Bear Hunt 2006 Pt.. 2

Oh my did Sam and I have our work cut out for us, no pun intended! We took a few pictures and then asked one another if we've ever skinned an animal out so as to make a rug out of the hide? We both had the same answer. . . No, I've only read about it and seen pictures. Well we begin the daunting task of skinning my spring black bear. It took us 3 hours to skin it with the head and feet in tact so he can be made into a beautiful bear skin rug. He was to big for us to hang whole, so we separated the front and hind quarters. Even doing that he was still a lot to lift. We rolled up the hide and I lashed it with parachute cord and bailing twine to my pack. I sat on the ground and got into my pack then asked Sam to help me up. By the time my legs came to weight bearing I thought my knees were going to explode, and I said put me down. There was no way I was going to carry that green hide on my own. Sam tried carrying it and was having a tough time too. I suggested we put it in my pullover, tie off the bottom and tie the sleeves together and then each grab a side and see how that works. It was better, yet still challenging. I am 5'6" and Sam is 6'4" and we were traversing a steep side hill. Not only that but it was slick from the rain and difficult footing with rocks interspersed. We'd set our sights about 50 to 75 yards ahead of us to the next little bush, or rock until we finally made it to the last steep downhill pitch. The weather was still holding out and we were thankful. It took us 2 hours to go a little over a mile to get back to the rigs. The last steep pitch we went straight downhill by- passing the switchbacks. We slid and rolled to the bottom where our rigs were, while keeping a firm grasp of the hide in my pullover.

It's 9 p.m. and we're exhausted, scratched up, mosquito bitten and tick covered. Oh and hungry! Just as we get our gear put away and crawl into Sam's camper it starts to rain. We look at each other and didn't know what to do first, eat, get out of our tick infested clothes or go straight to sleep. I still had to go unfurl the hide and lay it in the back of my truck. While I did that Sam made us some sandwiches. I returned after my job and was so tired I could barely move my jaw to chew. Next we got out of our wet yucky clothes and into some dry gear. That felt so much better! Now I was wishing I'd brought a second set of hunting clothes, 'cause the thought of having to put those back on in a few hours was less than thrilling. We gave each other a tick check and hoped for the best. Then tried to get some sleep knowing tomorrow was another big day.

Sleep was fleeting as the rain hammered and pounded the camper all night. In the brief moments we caught a wink, we were awoken by our paranoia of either a tick burrowing in or hopefully only a mosquito getting a quick bite. We got up at daylight after a miserable night and I was determined to go to the nearest town for breakfast and to get some DEET! Sam was in complete agreement and we had a great breakfast at a hippy joint with some strong coffee followed by a quick stop at the local super market for insect repellent. Then we were on our way back up the mountain to go and get the bear. We took only necessities such as cardboard to lay the carcass on while de-boning, some food, Sam's 41 Ruger Redhawk and some water. When we got to where the bear was hanging there were a hand full of Turkey Vultures flying low and waiting their turn. That was all, no other animal signs at all, phew what a relief. I was nervous about Cougars and was glad to have Sam and his 41 cal. with us. We began the work and it took us 2 trips packing meat out estimating our packs at about 40 lbs. each per trip. We didn't pack heavy cause we were whipped from the day before and it was only about a 40 minute trip one way. By the time we were finished we had over 2 dozen Turkey Vultures (TV's) circling and walking in on us and countless Ravens. We were glad to be done. The weather held with only a few light sprinkles beginning as we broke camp at 6 p.m. and headed home. Lucky or what? I'll take either!

My shot had hit his spine just in front of his right shoulder and boy was that lucky. Turned out it was 220 yards downhill and we had figured about 150 yd. at tops. Good thing we have rangefinders now. It was my first day out ever hunting bears and my first shot at an animal with my(then new) Rem. 7 mm Mag with a Nosler 160 grain Accubond. I was able to recover the bullet too. The skull scored 19 7/16 just missing B & C's new cut off at 20". The hide measured 7' 6" green and is still right at 7' wide and a touch short of 7' long. He was 11 years old and had not been to any bait stations. The ODFW uses tetracycline as a marker at their bait sites which is identifiable in the animals teeth when they are aged. His back molars were rotten and cavity riddled. He had a few scars on his face and otherwise was in excellent condition. I was quite surprised at how lean he was and the fact that he hardly smelled. In talking with the biologist in Oregon who studies bears, he estimated his live weight to be approximately 400 - 450 lbs. Also telling me that the average age of bears harvested in Oregon is 4 to 6 yrs. old with a few in the 20 age range annually, with the oldest being 30 that he's ever recorded.

I spent 4 days cleaning the meat 1 piece at a time of fat and sinew. When I was all done I weighed it and had 125 lbs of very clean meat. I tried cooking a steak and that was a bit like a superball. So then I marinated a steak and after several days still had the same results. I finally decided that it was time to have breakfast sausage and summer sausage made. That was the best tasting of both. It was really good and I hope my knee will be good enough here this spring to take me on a few walks to do some sitting and glassing. It was well worth with it. Next time I will deet up and be better prepared with an additional set of hunting clothes too!

This was an experience I will never forget. I only hope that I'll at least have the opportunity to harvest another bear. It may be a long time before I see a bear like my first one. Going to be a tough one to top, that's for sure.

I want to thank Sportsman's Taxidermy in Bend, Or. for making a beautiful rug. Owner George Coyle is an exceptional artist and takes great care and pride in preserving each and every animal. His attention to detail is of the highest caliber and I sincerely thank him for all his work.
If you're hunting in Oregon and need a top notch taxidermist, I highly recommend him. You won't be disappointed!

National Taxidermist Association

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Spring Bear Hunt 2006 Pt. 1

I wrote about this hunt shortly after it concluded, and it is from that which I will share it with you all. So here is how it all unfolded.

The waterfowl season was drawing to an end, which was a blessing considering how dismal it had been. My hunting partner John asked if we were going to put in for Spring Black Bear tags? My reply was that "I don't know" and his reply "why not"? to which I replied, "just never gave it much thought". He said, "well I think we ought to put in as a party". Well then so we did and there were four of us in that party. So we did some homework figuring which unit we wanted and then applied for the controlled hunt in the N.Cascades unit. This was early February and the application deadline was only a day away with the draw being on the 20th. of the month. Soon thereafter we got our draw results in the mail and we were successful and now had tags. The opening date was April 1 and there was considerable snow in the mountains where we wanted to hunt. We held off for awhile until we were just about out of time all together.

John designated the weekend of June 3 and 4 for our hunt. As it turned out John was busy with work and his son Joe had other plans which left it up to Sam and I. We decided to follow through and go on our hunt. I talked with my friend Larry who gave me some areas to check and told me what to look for as far as sign and habitat. He was our resident expert since he had hunted bears successfully a year prior. I was all ears and taking notes as best I could. Then I picked up a couple maps for Sam and I to look over and we set a departure time for o dark hundred the next morning. We had the usual assortment of gear and food. Figured to camp out and hunt both days if needed, and I figured we'd do just that as I doubted we'd get a bear our first day out.

We drove separate rigs to our hunting area and as daylight broke it was another overcast gray day. We had periods of sun breaks interspersed with light rain and drizzle. The temps were in the mid 40's to low 50's and quite humid. Sometimes the clouds covered the mountains making it difficult for glassing the edges of the clear cuts and meadows. The wild flowers were blooming and the foliage was becoming denser every day with the new growth. We were driving up near snowline stopping and glassing when we came across areas that looked promising. Eventually we figured out just where Larry was telling us to go. We could see the steep hillside from across the draw. It was an old clear cut that had been burned which had pockets of brush and old snags still towering. We drove until we ran out of road and then we grabbed our packs, rifles, bins and set out on foot.

We found a brush covered trail and began our ascent up the steep hillside. From below we saw an enormous Elk in the meadow when we were glassing from across the draw. We watched the elk traverse the steep slope and top out then head down the other side. That was the last we saw of it. We suspected it was a bull just from its size. As we moved our way uphill following the switchbacks we were a bit soaked from the waist down from the vegetation and looked forward to getting up to the ridge line. The trail we followed merged into a major trail and we were now out of the wet brush. We stopped for a breather and decided to traverse our way to the top and see what it looked like on the other side. When we got to the top we didn't see much on the other side in the way of Bear habitat. Quite a lot of snow, rocks and a small steep of water. We decided to drop back down to the main trail and sit awhile and glass. On our way down we saw a wooden sign and wandered over to it. It had mileage to Oakridge, Crescent, Eugene and a few other places. I'll be darned if we weren't on the Pacific Crest Trail. WOW, we found a comfortable log and sat awhile and shot the breeze. We had company in the way of a pair of Three Toed Black Backed Woodpeckers flying near us in the snags. I have remembered these from a hangman's game I played with my brother when I was quite young. I didn't believe their was such a bird, just sounded a bit much. Well, yes in fact they are real and I have not forgotten them since. Also we were serenaded by the drumming of Grouse. One was close by and the other was around the headland from us and sounded as a distant echo.

We hiked for a couple hours before we sat and started glassing some more. The rain had all but subsided and it had turned into a lovely afternoon. We had a snack and were conversing about this and that, the usual hunting drivel. We had a great place to sit and glass overlooking a large grassy hillside and beyond to the snow capped Cascade mountains. I wondered aloud if there were any bears in the area since we hadn't seen any sign. Sam replied as his usual optimistic self saying " at any time a big'ol bear can just step right out". Glancing at me with a sparkle in his eye and a mischievous grin. Mmmmm o.k. I replied and re situated myself on the log with a twinge of "what if" running through my veins and disappearing just as fast. It was almost 4 in the afternoon and as I glanced downhill on the green grassy hillside I was shocked to see a huge Black Bear moving from right to left. I said to Sam "there's a bear, a really big bear"! He said "Oh my god that's the biggest bear I've ever seen, shoot it, shoot it"! I said "I have to wait for it to clear those snags", Sam was looking at it through his scope too backing me up if needed. At this point everything was in slow motion and nothing else in the world existed. I steadied my shooting sticks took careful aim and squeezed off a round. I heard nothing but saw everything through my scope and was in even more disbelief when he dropped in his tracks like a ton of bricks!

We looked at each other and words fell short of our emotions and I said we're gonna sit here 10 minutes before we start heading down. I wanted to make sure the bear was down for good. As we sat there we were both amazed at what just happened. The bear was able to raise his front left foot a little and turn his big brown nose skyward, but that was all. He was definitely down. We gathered our gear and Sam led with his Ruger Redhawk 41 cal. on point and I followed. We crept slowly downhill, ever cautious of our quarry and the few times he did raise his paw we both froze like statues! Then looked at each other and laughed at ourselves, yea quite the hunters we are. Yet this was a serious matter until we knew the bear was dead we remained quite alert and vigil to our well being. I told Sam that while looking through my scope, I couldn't see see daylight between the bears belly and the grass. He was so big and getting even bigger with each step we took. As we got to within 10 yards Sam asked me where did I want him to aim the kill shot? I said anywhere but the head. . . try for the heart if you can. This was the first time that either of us had been in this situation. Sam fired 2 shots and the bear died quickly. I saw the life leave his brown eyes. That was hard to watch for sure.

Now the work begins, and boy was that ever a job! I'll save that for Pt. 2

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Lost and Found pt. 2

Let's see now, I left off at realizing that I was on my own and possibly even lost. Well true enough, as I waited there for over an hour with no one showing up and the rain coming down harder I had to do something.

The reality was that I was in deed lost, alone and not well equipped for the conditions. I opted for plan B. follow the stream downhill and trust that I will meet a road before nightfall. I went on my way semi frantic, adrenalin surging and very determined to find the valley bottom and a road. In short, a young woman on a mission. Oh, did I mention I was scared too? Yes most definitely. I bushwhacked for 4 hours before nightfall set in. In that time the precipitation continued and I was soaked by dark. All my gear was wet too. My equipment consisted of; down Gerry sleeping bag (circa 1974),wool hat, wool socks, cotton turtlenecks, jeans, light coat, 1 cast iron skillet, bag of garbage, container of Sucrets (throat lozenge's), 1 Swiss army knife,1 Gerber knife and the best of all 2 cubes of Oleomargarine. The boots I had on were a pair of Browning Kangaroo upland boots my dad had gotten me as a gift.

I was laying under a big tree on a little knob or crown so to speak. It was uncomfortable as hell and yet I was so exhausted from stumbling and thrashing about from bushwhacking that it didn't really matter. The temperature was dropping and the rain was subsiding. Throughout the afternoon I continued to yell for help every so often. I took my backpack off and took out my gear to see if anything was dry that I could put on. Nothing at all, everything was wet. My sleeping bag had dry spots, but that was about all. I laid out the Sucrets, knives, bag of garbage and 2 cubes of margarine. I tried to get comfortable but wasn't having much luck. I didn't have a flashlight either which I really could have used.

Above me or in a tree near by was an owl and the first time he "whoo whoo whooed" I just about jumped out of my skin. After awhile I found comfort in the regularity of the owls vocalization. I was worried about bears and whatever else might be in the woods on a cold dark night. I was in my mostly wet sleeping bag with my canvas pack laying over the top of my shoulders to try and keep the precipitation off for as long as possible. Eventually I was completely soaked and had it not been for my wool hat the outcome may have been different. In a fetal position with a wet sleeping bag stretched tightly across my body, and wearing nothing more than my cotton briefs I began to shuffle my hat from my head to my feet and to my belly. Warming each area as I went. All night long I did this. The temperature had dropped below freezing and I knew the potential for hypothermia was very real. This was serious and I had been without food since breakfast and needed something for fuel, anything. I found one of the cubes of Oleo margarine and peeled the paper back and began eating it. Not the greatest flavor, but that was a non issue.

Throughout the night I was yelling help in all four directions and one straight up to the heavens , just in case. I did this at about 20 minute intervals and after a few hours of doing this I got to have a real good sense of time. I would guess that 20 min. had passed then look at my watch and sure enough, I'd be within a minute or two. I did manage to doze off occasionally but not for long and I am thankful of that. Eventually the lower half of my sleeping bag that wasn't stretched over my body was beginning to freeze. Eventually it did freeze rock hard. I kept up with rotating my wool hat to my head, feet and belly. I was shivering and my hip muscles were spasming as I shuffled the hat. Then freezing rain began to fall and I just couldn't believe this was really happening to me. I was thinking of my friends who were sleeping in a warm dry cabin and I was a bit agitated at that thought. I wondered what the coach thought when he got to Pinkham Notch and came up 1 short. I was thinking about a lot of stuff, some not so good.

I was looking forward to daybreak and knew I had to make it to see another day. As the light crept over the horizon I took inventory of what else I had to eat. I figured I would save the bag of garbage for the last resort. The rain and drizzle was intermittent with interspersed light snowfall and as I extracted myself from my half frozen mummy bag I was thankful to see the light of day! Everything was coated in a not so thin layer of ice, including my wet clothes and boots. I began scraping ice of my clothes and boots so I could get dressed and continue downhill following the stream. I was partly dressed when I heard a faint voice in the distance. I hoped my mind wasn't playing tricks on me and I answered back with a very hoarse, help. Then another reply, and I was just about in dis belief that I had been found. A warm rush of adrenaline surged through my body and I was warmer now than I had been since nightfall. I continued to yell until we had a visual of one another. Then I was able to see a couple men in bright colored clothing, search and rescue had found me.

As they got to within eyesight they said my name and I responded affirming that yes it is me. They had dry wool sweaters, pants and socks for me to put on. Needless to say all modesty vanished while I got dressed. I was still shaking from being cold and they began to offer me food. I remember eating an apple, a PBJ sandwich followed by a pork chop and topped off with a brownie. You should've seen the expression on my coach's face, relieved beyond words. We gathered my wet and still partly frozen gear before heading to Pinkham Notch Headquarters to fill out some paperwork. As we headed down the mountain the rescue guys actually got off trail twice too, although not for very far. That made me feel a bit better and not like such a dummy. They even agreed that the conditions were difficult and that even an experienced hiker can have difficulty navigating. It took me several hours to get the chill out of my bones and days for my muscles to get over being knotted up and sore from shivering.

In all I lost 6 pounds from shivering all night long. Had a case of laryngitis from yelling and was the 117 th. person lost that year and some of the others with less fortunate outcomes. I was 30 minutes away from Pinkham Notch where they found me and I was headed in the right direction. Had they not found me by noon they were going to begin an aerial search. Fortunately my parents did not know I was lost until after I had been found. The rescue men said that I was very fortunate and that eating that cube of margarine probably saved my life. Along with being a woman and the added layer of fat plus being in excellent health to begin with. It is an experience that has stayed with me to this very day. I can still guess what time it is and be within 10 minutes. It was a life lesson and I continue to listen to that little voice inside me when I am in the woods hunting big game. No animal is ever worth getting lost over. I may get razzed a bit by my friends about not wanting to venture off to far yet all I can say is that unless you've spent a night like I have, you won't truly understand where I am coming from. That is also why I carry more gear when I hunt than I probably need to. Better safe than sorry, wet or cold or all the above. When I hear of people lost and the search is on, my heart goes out to them. It is about survival, plain and simple!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Lost and Found pt. 1

This is about an experience I had when I was only 15 years old. I was going to school on the East coast at B.M.A. in Vermont at the time and was heavily involved in alpine ski racing. During the fall dryland training period of 2 to 3 months we had a week off to visit one of the following destinations; N.Y. City, Boston, Montreal or hiking in New Hampshire's White Mountains. Being from the west I was interested in going to the mountains and backpacking for a week.

There were a group of about 8 of us student athletes and one of our coaches who was the leader of this outing. We were all in excellent condition and ready to have some fun and get away from the formal rigors of dryland training. Most of us had some sort of backpack that would suffice for what we needed. The plan was to check in to the headquarters at Pinkham Notch and file a trip itinerary. Our coach had set up a series of day hikes including summits of several peaks and utilizing the lean-tos to overnight in. They were not fancy although after a day of hiking we were mostly interested in food and sleep, and in that order too.

The White Mountains are also called the Presidential Range since all their peaks are named after presidents. The most famous peak or infamous is named after our first president, Washington. Mt. Washington's summit is 6288 ft. and has the highest recorded wind in North America topping out at 231 m.p.h.. This was back in April of 1934 and still stands as the all time record. Mountain climbers and companies who make mountaineering equipment regularly do field testing on Mt. Washington. Alright enough history, on with the story.

It was mid October in New England and the first thoughts I imagine some of you are thinking is of the Autumn foliage. The Maple and Birch hardwood leaves flaming in reds, oranges and golden yellow hues. Well, not exactly. You see this particular year the leaves had already dropped and the only striking colors were that of the Birch bark and its contrasting black and white against a gray sky. The landscape was stark, yet there was a quiet beauty in the stillness and absence of color.

We had our sleeping bags, cooking gear, food and some basic essentials for what we anticipated to be an enjoyable week off. We took turns doing the cooking and so on and so forth. We all got along well with a few exceptions here and there. Mostly teenagers being teenagers. What more do you expect. There was the typical whining early on by a few with blisters, some were hungry and some of us felt like we were still doing dryland training and wondered when we'd get a break. We climbed and hiked over many a rough and rocky mile summiting several famous peaks in the Presidential range. The first being Mt. Madison and the next was Mt. Adams after that we headed for Mt. Jefferson. To cover these 3 peaks took us 4 days and we began our descent back to Pinkham Notch on the following morning. This is where the story gets interesting.

I remember leaving the lean-to after a few of my friends and with a few behind me as well. The weather was gray, somewhat cool in the mid 40's and drizzle on and off. Our coach was pulling up the rear and since we were going down a trail we'd come up there wasn't much concern about any of us getting off the beaten path. Or so we thought, and let me be the first to tell you that the trail was anything but, a beaten path. The terrain was rocky, muddy, tree roots criss- crossing the trail and a carpet of fallen leaves littered the landscape. Far from the Western landscapes of a Fir/Pine forest floor with a well trodden "dip" of a trail. So, nothing was defined, especially for young teenagers. As I continued down the trail I realized I no longer saw any of my friends. This didn't set well, so I slowed down and waited a few minutes and still nobody came. Ummm, I thought. I began to backtrack and as I did I crossed a creek in a dip that I had crossd minutes earlier and now was unable to even see a trail. Not good. It was a little before noon and I sat right there and waited for about an hour and even yelling to try and get someones attention. To no avail and so I looked through my canvas backpack to find my matches and firecrackers and light them off. I thought that would get someones attention. Well as time wore on the rain had begun again, my matches were wet and useless. My concern turned to worry as I got that terrible empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, you know what I'm speaking of. A brief moment of dis belief followed by self talk telling myself to stay calm and remember what my dad told me. Stay put and if that isn't going to work then follow a creek, stream or river downhill. Eventually the stream will lead to a road and in turn safety. I had some serious decisions to make and was quickly running out of daylight.

Don't go far, part two is just around the bend.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

First Arctic Storm Is Almost Here !

Yea, we can all rest a little easier knowing there are fresh birds coming our way. It has been a poor season generally speaking this year. With very few storms from the far north to push new birds south for their annual migration. We as hard core waterfowlers have had to scour the bowels of what few flooded fields we've had as well as those ditches that fed 'em. The so called local nesting population of waterfowl are either in my freezer, Hunt Eat Lives!, NorCals, Hunter Angler Gardner Cooks, a friend of ours or they have managed to scathe away to a secret hidey hole.

I was pleasantly surprised last Saturday when I shot my first Goldeneye of the season, not knowing that they were a week ahead of this big arctic storm that is only hours away. I am so excited I can hardly stand it. I have been frantically calling all my hunting buddies to see who can come and hunt with me on the Klamath River this weekend. The forecast is for strong winds gusting up to 34 mph and snow accumulation as well. Excellent, this will finally push those ducks off the Upper Klamath Lake and force them to find other areas for protection. There have been a few thousand ducks on the Upper Lake that I have driven by both going and returning home each hunting trip. They have been like the proverbial carrot in front of my nose and just out of reach. Driving on Hwy. 97 at 60 mph. I identify the waterfowl and continually shake my head from side to side. Scaup, Buffleheads, Ring Necked, Redheads, Widgeon, Canvasbacks and the list goes on and repeats. Causing guttural sounds from within along with a slight dis contentedness.

This storm with it's strong winds will whip up that large body of water like a Cuisinart on high. There won't be a duck left on it til days later after the storm passes on Monday or Tuesday. I anticipate excellent diver hunting with plentiful opportunities. Fast flying divers wind driven and skimming the tops of the white caps. I can already see shot strings and skipping Buffs, horizontal snow flurries, the smell of wet dogs, wet wool, and excited hunters. This is what I've been waiting for. Say so long to the mild sunny days of this years waterfowl season and welcome the wrath of winter and the waterfowlers dream. I bid you adieu lest I not be late for the arrival of the last big drake!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Well Hello Five - O, OMG ! Pt. 2

Oh yea, the afternoon Snipe hunt. That's where I left off. Alright so Jet and I had some food, I processed the ducks from earlier this morning and needed to get ready for round two.

More coffee as I grabbed my boxes of # 7 steel shot from my gunning box and began switching them out with the # 3's that I use for ducks. I got my hunting vest loaded with 7's and an extra box in the back pouch of my vest (just in case). Switched guns and double checked the chokes in my Beretta Silver Snipe 20 ga. making sure they were the most open ones I had. Alright, "Jet are you ready to go"? She was indeed and out the door we went at 1:30 p.m. for some fast flying Common Snipe action.

The afternoon was warming and the marsh was so still you could see ripples if a pin dropped. The ducks in the river were napping with heads tucked under their wings slowly moving with the flow of the current. No one was making a sound. We made our way out into the shallow flooded fields where the Snipe had been the weekend before. Jet was rested, recharged and fully immersed in the mission at hand, or shall I say paw? None the less, my heart is beating faster with each step I take, knowing full well at any second I am about to be startled. The silence broken by a flushed Snipe vocalizing its high pitched alarm: SCAMP SCAMP SCAMP! It so un does me for the first few flushes, then I settle my nerves, refocus and become hyper alert to the details on the ground around me. If you move slowly enough and train your eyes you can see the Snipe (sometimes) before they flush.

Alright, we have two in the bag and six to go for a limit. There are several flocks of about 15 to 25 Snipe per flock. This is great, I thought the cold temps might have pushed them south, lucky me! We continue to walk slowly ready at every second for a flush and Jet is having way to much fun. She is definitely doing a personal hunt of her own. She seems to have very selective hearing when we are Pheasant and Snipe hunting. Oh S--T, another one missed, and another, didn't even see that one get up. Geeze, my eyes are not getting any better, that's for sure. Ahh darn-it! Now you know why I grabbed that extra box of shells. O.K. time to get down to business. Stop trying to swing and shoot these little guys, do it like I know I can. Point and shoot, get my head out of my way and let my instincts work for me. Boom, 1 down- SEE? There you go, get'em as they flush going away!

After about an hour we had our 8 bird Snipe limit and proceeded to the Klamath River dike to sit a spell and pluck awhile. We did good not losing a single bird and one we knocked down got up and flew off again. So I don't think it was to worse for the wear. Facing south the sun reflecting off the water felt warm and jet was already sleeping again. Sometimes I wish I were a Lab. As I sat there plucking and watching some Buffleheads swim down river I am tickled with such a fine day in the field. Truly one of the best days ever. The first time that I have gotten a limit of divers in the morning followed by a limit of Snipe in the afternoon. Not only that, but shooting my Beretta Silver Snipe 20 gauge ta'boot. Not sure how I'll top this one. Pretty special indeed.













So far this fifty thing seems to be working pretty well for me and frankly, I'm real happy to be right where I am. I am thankful for my health, friends, 4 legged hunting partners and the ability to pursue my passions. Thanks to my fellow hunting bloggers for your support, encouragement, feedback, comments and for welcoming WHJ into your lives. If it weren't for you folks, I wouldn't be writing this, so Thanks! Looking forward to the second half and we'll see you in the field. CHEERS!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Worth The Time

There are few things as wonderful as something that is "home made". Especially when you get to use it every night. Have you guessed what this might be that I am talking about? It is a down pillow.

True indeed, and trust me it does take a lot of Geese to make a down pillow. I still have my very first (and only) down pillow that I made back around 1988 or so. It is a wonderful pillow with many memories within.

Those of my Yellow Lab "Teak" who is no longer with me and the Black Brandt she retrieved at Savannah during an all woman Halloween Hunt. Also memories of a very dear friend, Mark Keiser who is no longer with us. I grew up with him hunting, fishing, and ski racing. Next to my dad, he has had the most impact on my life to this very day. At some other juncture I hope to write a story about Mark and some of the fun times we shared.

The process of saving the down is a timely one. In all I guess that it took the down from approximately 40 - 60 Canada Geese. First I plucked the contour feathers off the breast, belly and neck making sure not to leave any quills or blood. Then I made sure my hands were relatively free of blood and started plucking the down. Only the finest, softest down and no pin feathers or bloodshot feathers. I then put the down into a medium size garbage bag and saved them. I had about 10 garbage bags by the time I had enough down. Then I found a seamstress who was willing to help me. I used the traditional blue striped ticking fabric that has been around since the second world war. It is a tight weave and excellently suited for down pillows. I figured that I had enough down to make a supportive, king size pillow. Next step is to pre-wash the fabric, then sew one end closed and the other end at least 1/2 way closed.

Then the fun begins, stuffing the down from the baggies into the pillow to be. Turn off all fans and moving air sources prior to doing this. Best suited for an environment free from any air disturbances. Be patient when doing this and after about an hour or so (maybe less) you will be ready to finish sewing the end of your pillow together. If you are concerned about cleaning the down, you can have your finished pillow dry cleaned. I strongly suggest you write your name on the outside of the fabric with a permanent sharpie before giving it to a dry cleaners. I have had more items lost at dry cleaners than I care to remember.

I have been saving down for about the last 10 years in hopes of making my second goose down pillow. I may already have enough, yet I am going to gather just a couple more bags worth to be sure. My pillow has travelled many places, been lost and found a few times and is still full of loft.

It is really a unique pleasure to sleep on a down pillow that you made. I find the memories within my down pillow comforting beyond the physical level. It keeps me connected to the things I cherish most in my life. That of old friends, dogs, and the pursuit of waterfowling.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

I must admit that I am a sucker for good cookies. Especially Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip cookies. When I was a kid I loved Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Still do, only they seem to have found my waistline, so this is a compromise on my part. This recipe came to me via a friend and I have made a few modifications to it. These are delicious and it is next to impossible to eat just one.

Ingredients:

In a bowl add the following and mix together;
1 c. Adams Crunchy Peanut Butter (I drain the oil off the top)
1/2 c. softened butter
1/4 c. white sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar

after mixing add the following;
1 egg
2 tbs. Hazelnut Coffee Mate creamer (sugar free)
1 tbs. whole milk
1 tbs. vanilla extract

In a separate bowl mix together;
1 1/4 c. whole wheat flour
3/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
then add to wet mix.

Next add;
1 c. chocolate chips
1 c. dry roasted unsalted pumpkin seeds (optional)

Preheat oven to 375 and bake for approximately 12 to 14 minutes.
Remove from oven and let cool 3 minutes, pour yourself a cold glass of milk and begin dunking!
MMMmmmm Good! Enjoy

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Code Of The West

Alright, you are gearing up for the big game season and you've got some green horns or flat landers in your party. Not the experienced, tried and true hunting partner you've had for the past many years. Which means ultimately there are going to be some bugs that need working out. What I am referring to is the split. So someone in your party harvests an animal and there was no discussion before hand about splitting up the meat . This can either break friendships or create long lasting ones. It is a serious topic which needs to be addressed before leaving home.

Imagine, you just worked your a-- off helping to pack out a big Elk that your friend shot. This was on the next to last day of the season and everyone is celebrating up until the conversation turns to sharing the spoils. Soon you realize that you won't be getting your share. Instead of making a big deal about it you keep your mouth shut and remember to never hunt with that person again. You are more than a bit peeved and rightly so.

Anymore if I hunt with someone new I make a point of discussing it thoroughly. If you are all out there for the same reason and put forth an effort than it ought to be split fair and square. With my friends we call it the code of the west. My hunting partner John and I are about fairness and reciprocating. We make sure if we hunt with a newby that we are all in agreement about sharing of the meat. That way there are no surprises or hurt feelings and everyone has a good time.

Just curious to hear how the rest of you big game hunters and huntresses address this or don't before you head out. Have you had some hurt feelings or folks you won't hunt with anymore or both? What are your codes of the west ?

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Too Soon,

I wanted to mention a loss to the extended family of NorCal Cazadora. Please visit the Cazadora and show your support. There is a scholarship fund being established on behalf of her friend, Jamie Gonzales. I know money is tight for all of us now, yet I am sending a small donation to help. So if you can afford to send a donation in lieu of your Starbucks Latte that is GREAT! I know that any and all efforts of support mean a lot at a time of loss. Our thoughts are with you NorCal.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Quail Flats Gunning Boxes

I decided to make this post about the Quail Flats Gunning Boxes that I make. Perhaps you have seen the photo on the sidebar. The picture at right is what got this whole thing going. It is still the one I use every hunting season, since about 1979 or so.

It all begin when my brother gave me this replica, of a "Chesapeake Bay Gunning Box" as a gift back in the late 70's. This box was not an original, yet it had been distressed and weathered to look as if it were an antique. The cool thing about my brother is that we usually get each other gifts, that we would like for ourselves.He realized after I started using it just how convenient it was to have all my shotgunning accessories in one location. So not long after he gave it to me, did he ask if I thought I could make one. The writing was clearly on the wall and my friends were also becoming more interested in acquiring one for themselves.

Hence, the humble beginnings of building somewhat rustic and crude versions of the original. I tried different types of hardwoods and softwoods in search of an ideal balance between strenght, durability and being aesthetically pleasing to the eye. The one I received is made of Fir or Pine I believe, and has cut outs in the ends of the box to use for handles. The lid opens to 180 degrees and is held on by strapping hinges. A basic hasp is the closure for the lid and there was not a clip or snap supplied, so I attached one myself to hold the lid closed. It struck me that there was room for improvement regarding the handles, hinges and hasp closure. I felt that the size of the box and its interior tray, were ideal given its usage. Which leads me to a bit of history about this item.

There is not much information about "Gunning Boxes" purse' other than they were used for holding ammo and related items for shotgunning. The earliest records I was able to find were dated back to the 1870's. These days there are companies producing ammo boxes, yet those are different from a true Gunning Box. Also when you mention Gunning Box people often think it is used for storing your gun. Not so. Present day Gunning Boxes hold much more than just ammo. Mine has choke tubes, face camo, sharpening stone,steel, knife, duck and goose calls, cleaning kit, batteries, deck of cards, matches and that is just in the tray. Below the tray are 10 boxes of 20 ga. shells, gore tex gloves, fingerless gloves, hat, 7 x 32 leica binoculars, mag light, headlamp, gunning log, oil, tp, duct tape and dog biscuits. What is really great about these boxes is that everything stays in them year round. No more having to search your house, garage, closets etc. for this gear every Fall. With a Gunning Box you're always ready to go, just grab your vest, dog, decoys and hunting buddy.

After making more than a half dozen or so(with hand cut dovetails) and giving them as gifts to my hunting buddies, in 2001 I decided to refine my initial efforts and do some serious marketing. The end result is the photo below. There are over 100 steps in making a Quail Flats Gunning Box. From the initial selection of solid Cherry hardwood to the milling, routing, sanding, dovetailing, rabbeting, grooving, hand planing, more sanding, lacquering, and even addressing the solid brass hardware.

The hardware is all solid cast brass, meaning it is not stamped, pressed, cut or cheaply made in any way what so ever. Quite the contrary. The handles are made in England and have built in stops at 90 degrees to the box, so your knuckles don't get banged up by the box. The Brusso hinges are made in the U.S., machined from solid brass flat stock and have a stainless pin in the knuckle. They have a built in stop at approximately 95 degrees to support the lid/top in an upright position when open. Less chance of the top breaking by laying fully open at 180 degrees. Plus it makes a nice presentation and requires less space to open the top and access its contents. The hasp is a "Hook and Bail" type, which will not open on its own and is a very secure closure, U.S. made as well.

The top and bottom raised panels are from a single piece of Cherry and are not edge glued to make up their width. Finding wide Cherry is not a simple task, yet it is worth the effort. These raised panels are recessed in a groove that is a bit oversized than the panels themselves. This is to allow for wood movement (expansion & contraction) throughout the year. Just that happy medium from the old school of hand built furniture. The tray bottom is a single piece of Cherry too, and allowances made here for movement as well. The tray dividers are pinned with Cherry dowels and the darker end grain makes for a nice contrast on the front and back of the tray respectively.

In all I made approximately 75 Quail Flats Gunning Boxes. I made them in runs of 10 at a time. Each box requires approximately 5 to 7 hours from start to finish. Their dimensions are 22" L. x 9" W. x 9 and 5/8" H. The tray is 2 and 5/8" H. and nests mostly in the top, allowing for maximum storage below the tray. I marketed them online and also in Gray's Sporting Journal and Sporting Classics magazines. Most of my sales came from back East where there is more waterfowl history and recognition. Followed by the mid west for the same reasons. Lots of famous decoy carvers from both those areas, and museums dedicated to the preservation of waterfowl history. Over the years I have donated several Gunning Boxes to the Oregon Hunters Association, Ducks Unlimited and Pheasants Forever. It is just another way for me to give something back to this wonderful sport of hunting and to continue preserving the habitat for future generations.
I've had several customers request brass engraved initial/ name plates. Typically these are put on the inside of the lid /or on the tray front. Reason for this is so they don't get scratched or scuffed up from other gear being put on top of them. I have chosen Cherry for many reasons and here are a few; it was used for roofing shakes many years ago and is naturally resistant to bugs. It is a tight grained wood with a wide variety of colors and patterns. It is strong, but not to heavy and can take a bump or two without cracking or splitting. If the truth be known it is my favorite wood to work with. It is honest and to a degree, forgiving as well. Cherry also gets a patina over the course of time and becomes darker and richer in color. I have made these boxes in everything from Western Cedar to Honduras Mahogany, Walnut, Maple and Hickory.If you are interested in a Quail Flats Gunning Box, just drop me a note and I'll be glad to get one going for you. They will last for many generations and are built to honor a lifetime of memories.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Humor

Single black female seeks companion, ethnicity unimportant. I am fun loving by nature, play well with others and am low maintenance. Some of my favorite pastimes are going for long walks, playing in the water, camping, riding in pickup trucks and sleeping next to a cozy fire. Candlelight dinners will have me eating out of your hand. I am loyal and will greet you at the door when you get home from work, wearing only what nature gave me. Please give me a call at (503) 768-4225 and ask for Jezzabell.







Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Halloween Hunt

This takes place many years ago in South Central Oregon. Due east of Crater Lake National Park at a place named Savannah.

It was almost Halloween and Wendy and I headed into Savannah a few days ahead of the boys. Figured we have ourselves a "women's hunt" for a change of pace. Now just getting into the cabin at Savannah can be challenging dependant on rainfall etc. There are no roads to speak of, only an old blazed trail through a marsh seeking solid ground and the occasional high spot. Once we turn off the dirt road it takes us about an hour to travel the last 6 miles to the cabin. Everything must be taken in with us. This includes firewood for the wood stove, our only heat source and plenty of white gas for the Coleman lanterns. We can only get to within about 300 yards of the cabin because of all the water, so we dawn our waders and begin shuttling gear. Ice chests, groceries, sleeping bags, dog food and you know the rest of the list. We leave our shotguns and vests in the truck, cause we'll be going right by it on our way out in the morning. It always feels great to settle in to the cabin and take in the incredible views. From the front porch you can see the rim of Crater Lake, Mt. Thielson and Mt. Scott to the west. South and east is the Silver Lake road going through the Klamath marsh, not that you can identify vehicles or anything. To the n.w. is Yamsey Mt. and the headwaters of the Williamson River.

The next morning we have breakfast, pack lunches for the day and head out to the creek that runs through the property. We actually hunted on a cattle ranch that adjoined our property. The weather was beginning to get cold and a tad bit stormy. Ahh ducky for sure. We set up our decoys in the creek and hunkered in on 1 of the 3 little islands there in the creek. The creek is a slow and meandering waterway. The water is very tanic , murky and a bit pungent.

It wasn't long before we were blazing away and had several birds and on our way to a limit. We had a pair of Canada Geese come in and I got one and Wendy shot the other although it went on a death glide. So we pursued quickly, to no avail after more than 2 hours of searching. We came up empty handed. On our way back to the decoys we crossed the weir (bridge) and looked upstream at what was in our decoys. Something just looked out of place. It was hard to see clearly, as the weather was bearing down on us. Cold rain and a serious wind put a chill in the air. Just as we decided to go back to our set, the birds got up and were coming our way. A few Gadwall and Widgeon and a- a - Black (BOOM) Brant! What? Their supposed to be pelagic and at the coast, not 175 miles inland! We are dumbfounded, as we watched Teak(my Yellow Lab) make the retrieve. Still wondering if it really is what we suspect. . . Yep it was a Black Brant.

Well it's getting on around 3:00 p.m. so we pick up our decoys and start the long walk back to the cabin. A longer walk going back carrying the ducks and geese that we shot. We were still talking about that Brant, and how amazed the boys will be when they hear about it.

By the time we got to the cabin the first snow of the year was upon us. We were tired, hungry and happy to be right where we were. What a great Halloween women's only hunt! The next day the boys arrived and as we figured, they thought we must have mis- identified the Brant. That is until I showed them the head! Jaws dropped.


Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Wow, I have been delinquent on my blogging. Life has intervened of recent. Between some physical challenges and trying to keep work coming in, time has gotten away from me. So without any further delays here is a story about a trip my friend Dave Keiser and I took a few years back.

This all takes place in British Columbia about 80 km. out of the northern town of Smithers. Dave had told me about a place where there were very big Steelhead, in the range of 20 to 30 pounds. Well that certainly caused me some whiplash. Just the mention of Steelhead is usually sufficient enough to get my attention. So the seed had been planted and it wasn't long after when we were making our travel plans for the Babine River. The year was 1987 and the month of September.

We booked our reservations at Norlakes Lodge and got busy tying flies for our adventure. I had only been flyfishing for Steelhead since 1985 and Dave was an old pro at it. So I spent a fair amount of time picking his brain about what fly patterns to tie and so on. He was helpful as always and before we knew it we were air born. Landed in Smithers then travelled by van for 80km. to the Babine River. From there we were jet boated down stream to camp at Norlakes Lodge and got settled in.

The next morning we awoke early, had breakfast, packed lunches and then headed out in jet boats. It was illegal to fish from a boat on this section and it was fly fishing only and, catch and release. The guides would drop us off one or two to a hole, throughout the 15 or so miles of river that we were able to fish. They came back a few hours later to check in with us to see if we wanted to try another hole or if we needed anything. Typically we started fishing standing back from the bank quite a ways and casting just a few feet into the river from the bank. Eventually working our way out to deeper faster water. Often their would be Steelhead lying close to the bank in the calm water before the sun was up and on the water. I was surprised to catch them only 5 feet out from the bank on several mornings. Those fish are big and strong, really strong. Acting somewhat more like Salmon in ways like sulking and going deep and not jumping. At least the really big Steelhead didn't jump. It took a fairly heavy rod with stout leaders to get them in. The largest I landed was pushing 30 lbs. It had a girth of 22 1/2" and was 39 and1/2 L. and it took me 45 minutes to land. That is what I called a "slab" of a fish, just amazing. Dave's largest was also a slab and much brighter than mine. He estimated the weight to be at 30 lbs. and the lenght 41 1/2".

The Babine River is in a remote wilderness and we saw bears daily and heard them thrashing about at camp each night. Definitely had to be attentive to your surroundings at all times. We had our share of rain although still managed to catch fish daily. The Babine is fed by glacial run off, so it doesn't take much precipitation to blow it out of shape and ruin the fishing.

I remember the first day I was wading about hip deep and casting when something bumped into my lower leg. I just about flew out of my waders not knowing what it was or being able to see what just bumped into me. Eventually I noticed portions of dead Chum Salmon floating by me that had spawned and were returning downstream. Some had bear bites on them while others were only half of their former selves, having been eaten by bears. Yea, I was a bit concerned for sure about my safety. That was when Dave told me I had nothing to worry about as long as I wasn't the slowest person in camp. Not so sure I was comforted as much as I got a laugh out of his comment and realized the truth of it. None the less we had a great time swinging flies and catching monster Steelhead.


Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Braggin' Rights. . . part 3

Continuing with some more hunting stories about my friend Dave Keiser and his quest for a Grand Slam on North American Sheep.

The year was 1985 and the state Nevada. He put in for a Desert Sheep tag, of which there is only 1 out of state tag per year and 3 in state tags. As luck would have it, Dave got his tag on the first try. He was hunting in an area dedicated to managing sheep called Desert National Wildlife Range. Sparse vegetation and limited water availability, which meant having to pack in your own potable water. The sheep got much of their water needs met by eating cactus, grass and what little brush was available.

On the third day of the hunt he and hunting partner went to the S. end of their unit and set up a modest camp near the mountains. The next morning on their way uphill to a glassing area they jumped a large Ram. Not much time for talking so Dave fired a shot off hand and the Sheep didn't go far. Dave was only able to see one side of the Rams horns and knowing it was a legal Ram, yet didn't see the busted horn on the other side. All in all a great animal and nothing to feel bad about.

Well now, his next quest is the Stone Sheep and hunting an area which Jack O'Connor made famous with a story titled "A Day In Ram Heaven". This was not going to be an inexpensive hunt considering you had to have a guide. The guides in fact were the ones who controlled the permits and made the final decision, plus he had to get himself up to British Columbia.

The year was 1987, Dave and his wife had 5 kids at home and were a bit strapped for cash. He had a chat with his wife and she agreed to cash in their life insurance policy to fund the trip. They both drove up to B.C. together then she wished him luck and flew home. He then flew 80 miles into base camp out of Fort Nelson B.C. and was at the foot of the Canadian Rockies. Here the guide had his main headquarters set up next to a lake, with Moose feeding and creeks choked full of Artic Grayling. He ate more than his share of Grayling on this trip.

He had quite the trip this time. His guides were 2 American Indians, one young and one very experienced. He waited and watched as his guides loaded the pack horses and figured he didn't need to keep to close an eye on them, as they must know what to bring and how to properly pack. So with his 2 guides they headed up the Muskwa River drainage going cross country with 4 packed horses. On the way one of the horses fell and ended up dieing from its injuries. Eventually they got to their base camp and set up for the next days hunt. The next morning Dave was without coffee as the guides drank only tea. He wasn't very impressed with their packing job now, and felt maybe he'd been better off to have kept a closer eye on them when they were packing. Anyhow tea it was, and after a quick breakfast the older guide took off and Dave followed. On foot they crossed a creek and began heading up a long series of benches and waterfalls. Never seeing any Sheep this day, although they saw many Caribou as they got into a very large basin. So back to camp they went. The next day they rode up to a good glassing spot in a different basin from the previous day. As they began to eat their lunches, they were glassing the slopes across from them and saw it was full of Sheep. In total 25 Rams they sighted with their spotting scope. No time to waste they got moving downhill, crossed a creek and large ravine and started uphill. It took hours to get above the Rams and then Dave had to wait for his Ram to stand up. Finally he stood. . . Boom! Missed, just over his back. From 400 yards above the Ram he had no idea where the shot came from and was confused. Dave chambered another round into his pre '64 270 cal. and shooting off hand this time, he connected. The big Ram rolled and rolled to the bottom of the canyon breaking off about 3" of horn on the left side. The curl measured 40 1/8 Long. He didn't get a width measurement, although from the photo it is quite wide!

The Ram was beautiful and what lie ahead was a very enjoyable evening at camp followed by riding out the next day. Completing his North American Sheep Grand Slam.

The photo is of his guide with his Stone Sheep.

Well, I hope you are beginning to understand why I wanted to brag a bit about Dave. He is an exceptional individual, a great story teller and just a pleasure to be with. I might have one more tails to tell of a trip he and I took many years ago.