Happy Birthday Jet !

Oh how fast the time passes. My hunting companion and trusty retriever is now 9 years old. I remember like it was yesterday when I first brought her home. Technically her birthday is March 12 but we celebrate birthdays as birth weeks around here with my friends.

My friend Dan told me about a local Lab breeder who had a good track record with hips, eyes and quality working dogs. They are of English descent and not the high octane American field trial dog stock. They tend to be a bit heavier boned, deep chested and with a good square blocky head confirmation.I contacted them and put my name on the list for a female out of their next litter. I was partial to Yellow Labs at the time and such was my request. Although as luck had it there were only black females in the litter. That was just fine and so I began visiting the breeders when the pups were 3 weeks old. That was my first look and I had an idea which one I was going to pick. I visited each week until the 7 th. week when I finally brought Jet home. She was a little chudpuppy (as in short and plump) and I instantly fell in love.

I had her dog crate in my bedroom with a cardboard box filling more than half of it. Preparing for house breaking by using the travel kennel is a great way to teach the pup to ask to go outside to do their business. She was a fast learner and sure there were a few accidents that were my fault and not hers, typically the trainer is wrong and the dog is right. Sometimes we're just a touch slow or to proud to admit that. So the fun times of puppy hood and frivolous play were the norm with an occasional toss of the dummy. It was great to watch her antics and what made her tick. She was easily amused and such a calm puppy. It was hard to break myself away from her for work and the daily chores of housekeeping and lawn mowing etc. She let me know just how displeased she was with me when I put her in her crate. Still to this day if I leave her in the truck she voices her opinion. Mostly when there are other dogs around and she isn't given the opportunity to meet and greet them.

We started the obedience training early and she was a quick learner. When we moved onto working with the dummy and raising the bar she was not in full agreement. This is when I thought UH OH, time to get professional help. I found a trainer just a few miles away from where I lived and he taught me how to work with Jet. It was some of the best training I've ever had. Learning from the dogs point of view, and that was the key. From there on we began to learn together. Training began to take on a whole new perspective and we continued to make progress. Jet was not the typical in the water all the time type of Lab. She had fallen in the water at the breeders when she was just 4 weeks old and I think that initial experience made her apprehensive of water from there on. I had a pond at my old house for irrigation and I did everything I knew to get her excited for the water and she just never did flip the switch. She would walk in a few steps and then refuse to go further let alone swim. Back to the trainer again we went. He gave me some tips and we were back on track again.

Fall was nearing and I knew I had to see how she was around guns. I took her out to the trap club and parked a 100 yards away and sat with her and watched her response. All was fine, so we moved closer and sat in the parking lot. Again, she was not bothered in the slightest and she wanted out to play with the other dogs. Alright, I got her leash on and she hit the ground running. She had no problem with shotguns and all the excitement. It helped having older mature hunting dogs there to distract and build her confidence. Phew, a major milestone and now I was eager for the hunting season to start.

The beginning of waterfowl and Jet is 6 1/2 months old. The first year or two she wasn't having much fun and I was concerned that maybe she wasn't going to be the retriever I had hoped for.
She didn't want to swim and didn't seem to have much interest in retrieving waterfowl either. WOW, maybe I have a real nice house dog I thought. Over the first few years I was hunter and retriever. I logged a lot of miles in neoprene chest highs which is where my my dislike for them derived. I was trying to set her up for success and making the connections between BOOM, BIRD, RETRIEVE. Well, it was a slow progression and I would dump a bird out of my game bag as we walked the dikes and on our way back I would get her excited and then ask her where's the bird? Get the duck and gesture ahead of us and eventually she figured it out and started showing some enthusiasm in retrieving. This was all about building her confidence and making a big deal out of her successes. Even the small things I showered her with praise. Over time she began to show more interest and started enjoying herself. Occasionally she even made some retrieves in shallow flooded fields and then swimming the ditches for ducks. I was starting to believe that I was finally going to have a hunting dog.

By year 4 she was getting the hang of it and showing a real passion for scenting and flushing Pheasants. I spent as much time as I could chasing Pheasants and to this day they are her absolute favorite quarry, bar none! She takes on a different persona when hunting Pheasants and is as focused as any dog I've ever seen. Not only that, but if there is a Pheasant in the tules, brush or briar's she will not quit til she flushes it. Equally exciting for her is flushing and retrieving Snipe. Although we don't get as many opportunities to hunt them since they migrate through quickly most years. Another of her favorites is working the cover when there's a heavy hoarfrost and it's about 10 degrees. She comes busting out of the cover, covered with frost all but her eyes and nose. Bouncing in her step like a young pup and totally fired up with piss and vinegar. Talk about happy and joyful, such a fine example.

It has been an absolute delight to be her mom and see how she has grown into the fine hunting dog that she is today. Her swimming retrieves have come a long ways and even though she is not the strongest swimmer, she will give it all she has. From wading in flooded fields to swimming ice covered rivers for late season Whistlers, I wouldn't trade her for nothing! She is a wonderful huntress, retriever, companion and friend. My shadow, who has taught me the most about training and working with dogs. Loyal, easy to be with and this huntresses best friend. I am not sure who knows each other best, me her or visa versa. Regardless we are attached at the hip and I can't imagine not having her in my life. She has slowed down this past year and I know the day will come when I am looking for another pup. Until then I will do my best to reciprocate the love she continues to give me and take her hunting for as long as she is able and willing.

I dedicate this 100 th. post to Jet and her 9 th. Happy Birthday week!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Another Black Bear Story, By T. Harris

The following story is by another woman named Teri who spends a lot of time in the saddle and out in the mountains. I hope you enjoy her story of how she got her first Black Bear.

My husband Kevin and I lived outside of Pilot Rock Or. at the time. In the summer we rode for a cattle rancher checking his cattle in mountain pastures near our house. If I remember right it was September of 2001, my husband and I were in the hills riding as usual, we stopped on top of a bald saddle to look over the draws below. Kevin rode off a little ways from me to scan the other side, he came back a few minutes later and told me to follow him quietly that there was a bear in the draw right below us. We rode over to the edge and in the bottom of the draw in a clearing was the bear, since this was only the second bear I had ever seen in the wild, I was REALLY excited. The bear was approx. 100 yards away, he noticed us but didn't seem to care, he purposely walked further out into the clearing, walked up an open bank and stared at us. Then he slowly walked down to the bottom again, grunted and snapped his teeth, then slowly trotted into the brush out of site. Kevin said that he had seen that bear several times before while out riding, he was huge, and had a large white "V" on his chest, and every time he didn't seem to care about being seen, even with the dogs around.

That evening we talked to the man that owned the land where we had seen the bear, we asked if it would be o.k. to hunt the bear. The owner was very happy to have us hunt that bear. He told us that bear had came down to his house several times, chased his horses through the fence, and killed a fawn directly behind his house.

After a few minutes of hearing the bear crash through the bushes I finally saw him break out into the clearing, he was loping slowly in a strait line across the clearing. I aimed at the right shoulder and shot, the bear shoved back on his haunches, then lunged forward and continued running toward the edge of the clearing into the brush. I heard him crashing around in the bushes for a while then silent. When we all got caught up with each other we approached the bushes with extreme caution, and found the bear dead.After dragging him to the bottom into the clearing we examined him and found that he was extremely old, he had an old bullet wound in his hindquarter, and his small teeth were all but worn down. He weighed 600 lbs, and was 7ft square, he was ranked 13th or 14th in the state that year.

That is quite an impressive bear and one to be very proud of, congratulations! Thanks for sharing your story and I hope to hear about more successful hunts down the road. Seems that the Oregon bears have been kind to us huntresses. I'll keep my fingers crossed that it continues, but I won't hold my breath on that one.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Wet , Wet , Wet

Along with that Mallard that had the large tumor, I also harvested some fine waterfowl to bring home last week. It was a very wet trip from the beginning. I awoke to the first snow of the year, ugh. There was about 3 to 4 inches on the ground and I figured time to go hunting.

Jet and I arrived at Lowlands early afternoon and unloaded our gear then started a short afternoon hunt. Walked ditches jump shooting and being selective for Drake Mallards primarily. Eventually we made our way to the banks of the Klamath River and had "Tumor Mallard" plus 2 drake Mallards in my game bag. The river was chucked full of Buffleheads, and as much as I enjoy eating them I decided to leave them be.

We were also trying to kick up a Pheasant or two. The club plants 100 male Pheasants a year, well at least most years. So far we had zero Pheasants, let alone not even hearing a single cackle. Ummm, I start to think that maybe the coyotes and raptures got the better of them. Yet that many in only a couple weeks, surely there had to be a few "smart" ones still around. As we near the Willows and head in to the thick cover Jet begins to get a little birdy. I am optimistic and yet we never found a single Pheasant. Those are Jets favorite and she gets more than a bit "glazed" over when Pheasants are in the area. That is her drug of choice for sure. She goes from being this gentle, calm and mild mannered dog into a type A, "don't hear a word your saying" dog on a mission that will yield, only after she flushes that stinky old Pheasant. She is really something and we usually are both grinning ear to ear. Although on this day it was not to be. We wandered back to the cabin with 4 ducks to clean.

The next day it was overcast in the morning, and we headed to the back ditch. We did well, shooting 3 drake Mallards , 1 beautiful mature drake Gadwall and 1 N. Shoveller. The clouds were starting to let loose and the rain was coming down. Got back to the cabin and ate breakfast then cleaned birds. By this time it was snowing hard, big wet flakes that were sticking. I was not happy about that. It was the type of conditions that no matter how good of rain gear you have, you're gonna get wet. If not due to the fact that your gear doesn't breathe well, or wet from the outside in. Take your pick cause that's just the conditions. So we went back out early afternoon for a short walk and got 2 G.W.Teal and 1 N. Shoveller. We were both drenched and happy to get back to our little cabin. That was it for the day, we had our limit. I ate the Teal for dinner and they were delicious. There have been 2 small flocks of Swans flying back and forth across the river, what a sight to see. Not legal in Oregon, yet in Texas they are.

The snow turned to rain late that night and as morning broke the skies dried up for a short time. We hunted the same area as the day before and the results were similar. Shot 3 drake Mallards, 1 hen Mallard and 1 N. Shoveller. It was a short hunt, as I needed to get things cleaned up and head back home. Jet did really well. Her 8 and a half years of experience shined through. Her ability to mark fallen birds and deliver to hand was incredible. She is not as quick as she was, yet neither am I.

Our first hunt of the season was in the books and all went well. Both dog and huntress returned home safe and sound, if only a tad bit sore. My shooting was better than anticipated as was Jet's field work too. By the time we got home the first snow of the year had all but melted and the sun was beginning to peak through the grey skies.

I think it's time to head out again, really! I can hear the marsh calling my name. Catch you in a few days.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Welcome Women Huntresses

This story is of a young woman's first duck. It was in my "in box" when I returned home from my recent deer hunt. I was so thrilled to read her waterfowl hunting story that I asked her if I could share it with the rest of my readers and she agreed.

It is for young upcoming women huntresses (like Tiffany Robertson) that I started the Women's Hunting Journal blog, offering encouragement, support and sharing my 30-plus years of bird hunting experience with other women hunters. Tiffany already understands that hunting is about being present in those wild places. As a woman huntress she feels the magic of being an active participant in her environment.

Reading her correspondence I can't help but reflect back to my early years hunting: Feeling the chill of a cold frosty Autumn morning; glistening frost covered leaves, cattails and marsh grasses. A thin layer of ice covering the flooded fields as my dad and I walked along the dike edge to our blind. The ground was white with frost as we layed our gear down and settled in. Soon the sun would rise enough to take the chill away. We watched the frost turn to water dripping off the cattails, the small Marsh Wrens finding a sunny stalk to sit on and glean a bit of warmth, singing joyously to all that listened. These are just a few of my fond memories of being a young woman huntress. I am fortunate to be able to participate in hunting and be in wild places. Thank goodness hunting season is finally here again!

Please welcome a new woman hunter to the duck blind. Enjoy and keep the magic alive!
______________________________________
My First Duck Hunt!
by Tiffany Robertson

I live in North Dakota and the opportunities to hunt waterfowl are awesome here. My boyfriend has been hunting for years now and I begged to have to have him take me out. First, I went to the gun range to get a little last minute practice.

We then left for my first waterfowl adventure on Sunday, October 5th, 2008. After 2 hours in the truck,we arrived at a field full of ducks feeding (at least 1000). With our gear, decoys, and dog, we walked alongside the field over a hill to a nearby slough where the ducks would come to sleep that evening. The weather was windy and rainy, perfect conditions for duck hunting.

We carefully placed our decoys in the slough and got into ready position. As my boyfriend called them in, I took a shot at my first drake overhead. He came down beautifully and Dakota (our golden) went to retrieve it. Never before had I seen something so beautiful. The drake was about 2 years old with 2 curls on his tail. After this moment, I didn't even care if I shot another duck. We did an evening hunt from 5-7 pm. Although a few got away, I still managed to shoot my limit of 4 mallard drakes and 1 mallard hen. My boyfriend couldn't have been more proud of his little hunter. This was my first hunt but definitely not my last. At the end of the evening, I cleaned and debreasted all the ducks myself. Memories I will never forget."




_____________________________________
Thank you Tiffany for sharing your story and I trust it will inspire more women to give hunting a try. Best of luck to you during your first season of waterfowling. Keep the stories coming.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Going The Distance . . . Pt.3

Pt.1
Pt.2

Oh my aching body! I think to myself as I begin to wake up from a fitful slumber. The wind howled all night slamming into the west side of the cabin. Then we heard some rain, not good. Oh boy, this will be a doozey of a day. After about 10 minutes of rolling around in bed I began the process of trying to get to my feet. This was not pretty, nor was it a graceful sight. My hip flexors were screaming at me from being bent over, head down pushing the boat and having to high step the foot plus deep snow. O.K. lets take this slow, we are not in any rush. Larry is groaning too and agreed that we not be in a rush. The coffee tasted great and for a minute I forgot how much I was hurting. Jet and Oyster (Larry's Brittany) are eagerly awaiting their breakfasts. So we finally get moving after a hearty meal ourselves.

The weather is overcast with drizzle and a warm SW wind. Going to be a wet one today. We drive to the dike and start walking out to the river in a slow metered pace. I am looking forward to the snow melting as this will make walking less painful. We get the field shells set and because the wind is so strong we decide not to put out the floaters. The Klamath River has whitecaps and waves nearly 3 feet high. It was the right decision cause we only spent about 2 hours hunkered in and called it a day. Nothing was flying, absolutely nothing! No hawks, no Mergansers, Magpies or even Marsh Wrens. They knew long before us what was going on. We picked up the field shells before they blew away and headed back to the cabin. The wind was so strong I had to lean into Larry. We couldn't hear each over the wind. No doubt, we were a bit nuts to be out there. So we hung out in the cabin and took it easy, still hurting from yesterday's efforts. It was out of our hands that the birds were grounded for the day. We'll try it again tomorrow.

So it is day 3 and the pain upon waking is a little less than yesterday. The best news is that the warm wind and rain have melted much of the snow. We were able to drive closer to the river and less walking which is a big relief. The storm had passed and all was calm again in the basin. We began the usual routine; me setting out field shells and Larry putting out the floaters. Most of the river ice was gone. All that remained is the large shelf ice on some of the corners. There will still be work to keep decoys clear of ice chunks, but at least we have open water at the rivers edge on our side now.


There are geese across the river in the fields and even some Goldeneyes and Scaup on the river. We get comfy in the tules and are optimistic we'll get some shooting. We heard geese as we were setting out the decoys, glad they didn't all leave the Klamath Basin. I was doing some light goose calling when, out of nowhere came 4 geese right into our decoys on the river. They were in total stealth mode. We rolled around and eventually got to a position to shoot from, and as luck would have it we got all 4. This time we had a couple in the river to retrieve but they were dead and in open water, phew. We hunker back down and waited patiently for a couple hours before we had a few more geese come our way. We were 1 shy of a two possession limit and the last goose we shot was a cripple that landed in the river. We both got in the boat and began the wild goose chase. It took us rowing hard over a 1/4 mile before we got into range. That goose had us frothing in sweat before we finally got within shooting range and put it out of all our misery.

We headed back and began breaking down our set. The sun was coming out and we were tired and ready to call it a hunt! Fortunately we were able to drive to the river and load up all our gear, especially the boat. Otherwise I was going to leave it in the ditch til Spring. We agreed that we were indeed a bit nuts, as we chuckled about the great goose hunt boat drag of 2004. Wondering just how long that dike really is?




Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Going The Distance . . . pt. 2

pt.1

We have worked our tails off by the time we get our modest spread of goose decoys in the water. Now we keep our fingers crossed that the water will stay open for awhile. This is challenging hunting for sure and patience is important. Even more difficult is continuing to keep the ice chunks out of your open spot. The river is still flowing, so anything that gets a hold of decoy lines can be trouble. Thus making your decoys look more like cord wood than decoys.

Anyhow, we gave each other a big pat on the back and a, "I can't believe we did that" look then began to settle in. We were tired, and rightfully so. We'd just dragged a 10' Jon boat down a 1/4 mi. snow covered dike, with all the trimmings in it for a river goose hunt.

The sky was overcast and the air temp around freezing. Quite balmy for a January day on the Klamath River. We were comfortable laying in the tule's at the edge of the river. All we had to cover ourselves was some camo burlap. Just across the way in the fields the geese were really chatting it up, and I was getting that warm feeling all over anticipating the fruits of our efforts. It was about mid afternoon and we heard wing beats and before we knew it, the convention across the river was breaking up. It wasn't more than 20 minutes after we had our little patch of open water that we had geese trying to land in it.

We both had our faces covered making it tough to see what the geese were doing, and who was going to give the signal to shoot. Well, needless to say it all worked out just fine. The first small flock doing a fly by, made the mistake of swinging over the river dike for their final approach. We could hear their wing feathers cutting through the air and especially those that were a bit out of place or worn. We rolled, jumped up simultaneously and fired 5 shots and had 5 dead geese on the dike immediately behind us. Larry dropped them quicker than I could believe and and not a single cripple. WOW! I knew it would work, I just knew it! I was thrilled beyond belief and we were well on our way to our daily possession limit. It just about seemed to easy. Last thing you want to do is have to retrieve a goose out on the river ice somewhere. So, we timed our shots so as to attempt to drop them over the dike or fields immediately behind us. We kept our dogs at the cabin cause conditions were sketchy at best. I didn't do much calling, just enough to let them know which direction to get to open water. The next group came and we had our limits. It was the most economical hunt that I had had in a long time.

We were grinning from ear to ear and Larry had now experienced a goose hunt of a lifetime. Re invigorated from our success we began the careful process of retrieving the decoys. Getting the boat on the ice pointed in the right direction, with the rope tied between the boat and head gate in the ditch behind us. Larry carefully scooted the boat towards the open water then gets in it and continues to inch his way over the ice to the decoys. Using a combination of the oars and mall to get there while I keep a semi taught line from the bank. The ice is slicker now from the first time that the boat was pulled over it from the open water. Larry carefully slips the boat into the water and picks up the decoys. He gets to the edge of the ice and I give it the old heave ho and get'em on top and pull him on in. That was the easy part. Relieved that it went smoothly, we drag the boat over the dike top into the ditch behind us and stow the gear for the night.

Now the walk back to the truck. . . again. Only this time with 4 Canada Geese each. It was just about pitch black when we finally got to the truck, tired, hungry and even a bit amazed with our efforts. We grabbed a quick meal and some more coffee, then began plucking etc. It was 11 p.m. before we finished processing the 8 geese. I was starting to get more than a bit stoved up and was wishing I hadn't quit drinking the firewater. We were both exhausted, totally spent and I knew we'd be paying for it tomorrow. After all, this was only day one of our 3 day hunt. Larry was feeling it too. I guess Tylenol pm will have to do for now.

Don't go to far, Pt. 3 is on its way!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Going The Distance . . . pt.1

The story I am going to share with you all is perhaps the most dedicated, die hard, insane and fruitful wild goose chases, I have ever had the pleasure of participating in.

The following events took place at a location known as Lowlands, in the Klamath Basin of southern Oregon. My good friend Larry and I set out on a cold morning to hunt geese in early January of 2004.

There was quite a bit of snow and the flooded fields, as well as most of the ditches were froze up. The local waterfowl population was long gone by now and only migrating Canada Geese were in the vicinity. We decided to take some goose shells with us for the field and we'd give it a try, in hopes the river might not be completely frozen. We broke trail through the foot deep snow for about a quarter mile or so before getting to the river. Well, there were geese across the river in the fields, although the entire Klamath River was frozen solid. Ummm, as we hunkered in after setting up our field shells I kept thinking to myself, "all we need is open water". Eventually I began repeating this out loud to Larry. The geese were pressured to find open water and need to drink on a daily basis. They can go days without food if they have to, but not water.

Because of all the snow we were unable to drive to the river and bring the Jon boat. So with much encouragement and enthusiasm I was able to convince Larry that what we had to do would be worth the effort. We headed back the same dike we came out and stepping in the" post holes" we'd made 2 hours earlier. We got back to the main road, jumped in the truck and headed up the hill to the cabin. We each grabbed a really strong cup of coffee, and began the checklist for our mission.

Life jackets? check
200' rope? check
8lb. splitting mall? check
Oars? check
Plug in boat? check
5 G and H floating goose decoys? check
Goggles/ eye protection? ? ?
Sanity? ? ?

We loaded the 10' Jon boat in the truck with all the gear and set off on our mission. Got back to the dike, parked and unloaded the boat with the gear in it when reality began to set in. "We're really going to do this, aren't we"? I was beginning to think I might have bit off more than I could chew this time. With the boat loaded, on the snow covered dike we commenced to drag it to the river. Larry was on point pulling and I was in the rear pushing with my head down hoping to stay in our tracks. We stopped a few times in order to keep shedding layers as we were really sweating buckets. The temperature was warming rapidly and the snow was sticking to the boat worse each time we stopped. It took us 40 min. to get there, but we made it! With a collective sigh we rested a few minutes, and listened to the geese chatting across the river. I was relieved they were still there.

Safety is always first when you do this sort of hunting. My mall has a whole drilled through the end of the handle just for the purpose of tethering it to the boat. (We've lost a few malls). The rope was our safety line between shore and the boat and always wear a life jacket when breaking ice on a river. It took awhile to get enough ice broke and cleared to set out our floating decoys. Larry did most of the ice busting and clearing, as it was about 4 inches thick and I was barely making a dent. Yes, these are the extremes to which a die hard dedicated huntress and hunter will go through for the opportunity to shoot a wild goose.

With a modest puddle of open water about 40 feet off the bank with 5 G and H floaters in it, I was feeling more optimistic by the minute. We had gone far and above the average hunters efforts, and I had a real strong hunch the pay off was just a field away.

Part 2 later this week.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Fitness And The Aging Huntress

As I fast approach the the half century mark, I am curious as to how one maintains their fitness levels? Perhaps this is not a fun subject, that of aging. Though it is reality if we live long enough. Personally, my younger years were spent competing in alpine skiing which is not the best sport for knees. That is if you want to have good knees when you're older. I have had my share of surgeries, resulting in learning to adjust my fitness goals for the long haul.


So the question arises, what types of exercises, frequency, and intensity do you participate in to be ready for the upcoming hunting season? I understand that fitness is more about a "lifestyle" and incorporating exercise into your weekly routine on a year round basis. Somewhere between laundry, groceries, work, family, social gatherings, vacations, kids, spouses and the list goes on. My point being, it isn't that easy to find time for working out with all of life's duties, obligations and commitments. One of the perks is that it takes less time for a workout as I get older. That's just the facts and it's really o.k. Learning to accept ones limitations is quite beneficial. No more pushing through the pain and impressing . . .Who? What? Why? I can give myself a pat on the back for being kind to myself and having a good quality workout, without damaging my body.

I see opportunities much closer at hand than when I was younger. I don't feel that I have to trudge 12 miles in, to find my Buck and haul it out alone. You learn to see things differently and your experiences as a youth give new awareness to opportunities much closer to camp. Lending truth to the age old adage of "the grass isn't always greener on the other side of the fence".

As for waterfowl hunting, I am able to make 1 trip to carry my decoys, ground blind and shotgun to where I will be for the day. Not making multiple trips packing gear certainly adds to the enjoyment of the experience. Most of the time during early season waterfowl, I "rough hunt", carrying no more than the essentials for the day. Relying on the habitat for camouflage and having done my homework studying flight patterns and times.

I know when it comes right down to it, there's nothing better than walking for fitness. I was amazed at how I " leaned out" during the 7 days I was Elk hunting last Fall. Believe me, I packed plenty of food and munched along the way. Just sustaining a moderate pace throughout the day is a real calorie burner. For obvious reasons you are thrilled to be in the field again with gun in hand. There is so much activity and experience to take in, and the time passes quickly. So the miles you cover are not as noticeable as being indoors sweating in one spot. The treadmill and stationary bike are dismal substitutes for being in the field.

Please let me know what your physical preparation is for the Fall hunting season. Do you load your pack and go for a hike, simulating packing out your big Buck? Or running, weights, kayak, etc. etc. And if there is a way to enjoy sweating in one spot, please share your secret with me. I will be forever indebted to you!

The above photo was taken in 1988 during my cross country bike trip. This was the "high point" of the trip. Myself and 2 new friends took a side trip through Cook City and over Beartooth Pass (Absaroka Mtns.) down to Red Lodge and into Billings Mt., where we rejoined the rest of our group. If you want to read more about that adventure, let me know and I can mix it in. Otherwise, stay cool and drink lots of water.

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Why Do You Hunt?

Have you asked yourself lately, why do you hunt? Other than the fact that we get to see and experience a lot of cool things, deep down . . . what are your reasons for hunting? For the past week I have been in my shop completing drawer orders for the upcoming week. That gives me plenty of time to think about these thoughts that ramble through my head at any given time for whatever reason. Most ramblings revolve around hunting, and the philosophical aspects of such a passion.

Specifically my passion and personal evolution as a woman huntress during the period of time I chose to step away from hunting for 9 years. Talk about gaining clarity, as to ones' motives for hunting. Ultimately I chose to re-enter the hunting world, with a renewed sense of respect for myself and my quarry. After 9 years away from hunting I knew very well that on that first day I returned to the field and fired my first shot, that it might also be my last. No longer was hunting a numbers game, and about having to get my daily bag limit of ducks. I was open to whatever resonated within me. I was ready to accept the responsibility for taking of a life.

Throughout my hunting experiences I have remained steadfast in my beliefs about not wasting any part of the prey that can feed, warm and sustain me. There remains a part of me that is emotionally moved by the taking of a life. Before I took my 9 year hunting sabbatical I repressed the painful emotions including remorse that I felt the moment I realized the animal I shot was dead. This is a hard thing to explain, because it encompasses so many emotions. I was pleased that I'd honed my shooting abilities to make clean kills, yet my motives for pursuing my prey were ill defined. My reasons for being in the field needed clarification.

After 22 years of hunting I realized that my motives for hunting were questionable, because my main motivation was killing and numbers. Intuitively I knew I was missing something. Only by stepping away and laying down my firearms was I able to gain clarity as to my motives for hunting and to identify what had been missing from my previous 22 years of hunting.

Now when I make the decision to leave home for a hunt, I know that the hunt has begun before I get to the field. I realize after 9 years that I had been missing 98% of what hunting is really about. Hunting is about being present in wild places and taking in all that those places have to offer.

I have great respect and admiration for the wild creatures which I pursue. I am in awe of their abilities and beauty. Yet hunting remains part of our ancestral heritage for as long as humans have been in existence. It is as much a part of us just as the "fight or flight" response is.

I will continue to hunt with respect and bow my head in honor of my quarry. I can smell the seasons change as Fall closes in. My stomach feels the whirl of anticipation as hunting season draws closer. My pulse quickens with the memories of seasons past and the adventures which lie before me. Hunting is not just about getting "limits" or filling your tag. It goes well beyond and I will leave those stories for another day.

One of my favorite books is titled, Meditations On Hunting by Jose Ortega y Gasset. His book explores all the transitions that a hunter/huntress experiences over a lifetime, and much more. It is a meaty book and I highly recommend it to anyone who picks up a gun and goes afield.