The Big Freeze

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

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

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

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

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

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

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Wetlands Buck

I had a wonderful deer hunt this past weekend. I even surprised myself on a few counts. I left town last week having some social commitments to address before getting settled in for my deer hunt which opened on Saturday Oct. 4 th.

I had been keeping watch on 5 bucks in a specific area of southern Oregon where I also spend time waterfowl hunting. I arrived a few days early to continue scouting and to hopefully, locate the bucks. The weather turned cold, wet and windy. I was a bit worried they might leave the area in search of cover. I was in sight of them 2 days prior to opening and on Friday I never saw any of the bucks. The weather was whipping up a strong S.S.W. wind and I figured they headed for cover. I was beginning to realize how ill prepared I was for inclement weather. I didn't bring my rain gear, warm coat, fingerless gloves or a warm hat. What the heck was I thinking? I had at least washed my hunting clothes in Atsko Sport-Wash as well as sprayed them with UV Killer before I left home. So I felt confident that my clothing wasn't going to give me away. It poured most of Thursday and again on Friday. Fortunately I had some friends coming to stay with me Friday night after their sons football game, so I asked Dan to swing by my house and grab some gear for me as they departed Central Oregon for the small town of Ashland, Oregon.

Dan, Pam and their son Zac arrived late Friday night after the game. We stayed up and talked into the early morning hours. Zac and Dan filled me in on the game, and their opponents quarterback before nodding off around 1:00 a.m. I had my alarm set for 5:30 a.m. and didn't even need it. I was awake by 5 and up with coffee brewing by 5:30. Dan and I were the only ones awake and enjoying our first cup of coffee. Hell, it's not like I even needed any coffee, as I was already spinning, twittering and anxious as a fox in a hen house to get out and begin my deer hunt. I had a bite to eat as I double (quadrupled) checked that I had packed the gear I needed in my fanny pack. Dan and I chatted about past deer hunts we've had, as we anxiously waited for daylight to break in hopes that the bucks would show themselves. It was 6:50 a.m. and barely daybreak as we both strained to find the bucks in the lowlands.

"There they are," I exclaimed as calmly as is possible for me on an opening day. Dan saw them too. They were in the field beginning to move around and feed. I wanted to wait and see which direction they would commit too. Either moving to the North for protection from the strong winds or else going into the wetlands and bedding down on a grassy dike amongst the tules and long stem bulrush. I was out the door a few minutes later as they seemed to be heading into the wetlands to bed down. Dan wished me luck and was watching from the cabin using my 10 x 42 bins, while Pam and Zac were still sleeping soundly.

I layered up as best as I could and took the long way down from the hill remaining out of eye sight of the bucks. There were 2 of them, the big 4 x4 (or better) and his smaller buddy a stout (bench leg) forked horn. I worked my way down onto the lower slopes of the hill and began glassing. I saw the forked horn briefly as he followed the larger buck into the wetlands crossing 2 ditches and going out of sight. I eased my way up the hill glassing every few steps to see where they were bedding down. To no avail after an hour and a half I never did see them. Knowing full well they were in there I called Dan and asked if he saw where they went? He saw them slip away into the tules and not come out. I told him I will either take the road or go right in after them, but I wasn't sure what I was going to do yet. We hung up and I began my stalk.

I had the wind in my face from the south at about 10 to 15 mph with the occasional gust nearing 20 or more. It was perfect. The low clouds were holding back their impending showers and I was counting my blessings. I moved to where the bucks crossed the 2 ditches and made my decision to go in after them. This was going to be my best option considering how tall the vegetation was. My new Irish Setter boots were now christened, as I was wet up to my knees after crossing the ditches. There was a dike with a decent channel of water on the other side of it. I inched my way very slowly, staying at the edge of where the dike bank met the flooded marsh lowlands. I would take a few steps then look around and glass for the bucks as I headed for the area where they have bedded down before. It was just behind and off to the side of an old telephone pole on top of the dike that I was following. The distance was not more than 75 yards, yet I took my time realizing this will be my best chance, if not my only one.

It took me about 45 minutes to get within 10 feet of the telephone pole. Then the grasses, tules and bulrush were blocking my view. I sat there a minute studying the vegetation in front of me. I was thinking to myself that they have got to be right here! Moments later I saw the outline of an antler, then an ear and realized it was the forked horn. He was looking right at me, bedded down, well at least facing my direction. My heart instantly began pounding and adrenaline flooded my veins. I was kneeling, with my butt on my heels. I looked around me and realized I was at the end of my stalk. If I moved to my right the telephone pole would block my shot and if I stood to try and find the big buck I may not get a shot at all. So I rolled my safety off and made a clean shot on the forked horn. His head dropped and he died instantly. I was within 15 feet of him and neither buck heard or saw me, wow! I waited about a half minute just to make sure he was done before I got up to go to him. As I stepped into the open the big buck was still bedded til he saw me then he sprang to his feet and gave me a 1 second "buck in the headlights look" and then bolted across the ditch. Wow, he was big and knew right where to lay. His little buddy had saved his a-- this time.

I gave Dan a call and told him I had the forked horn down. He said he never heard the shot over the wind, but only saw the big buck bolt out of there. So, he and his son Zac came down and gave me a hand getting him drug out of the marsh and onto dry ground to begin field dressing him. We found a grassy slope and I began field dressing my buck. This was the first time for me to do this on my own, and I guess I fretted about it enough so that it all went without a single hitch. PHEW! Dan and Zac helped by holding the bucks legs apart which was a big help, as was their moral support. We got the buck field dressed, skinned and was done by noon.

Pam came out and watched the skinning and offered to get some coffee going. That was the best tasting cup of coffee that I've had in a long time. I was a bit chilled by the wind and if it wasn't for adrenaline, I'd have been much colder. After the buck was all taken care of we sat down to a fine brunch and recollected about the mornings adventure. I was so thrilled to have my friends there and be a part of the hunt. Memories that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Thanks for your help Dan, Zac and Pam, there will be some venison in your future!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

The Benefits Of Change

Let's see now, so your physiology seems to be changing a bit you say. You are nearing the age when your body doesn't seem to do anything on a regular basis as it has for the past 25 to 40 years. Your energy levels, sleep patterns, exercise regimen and concentration all seem a bit more challenging. You feel somewhat like a stranger in your own body.

Well there is some good news about "the change". At least when it comes to winter, hunting season and bears. Granted it will take a bit of adjusting initially, but lets look at the positive side of this life changing event. The benefits are numerous. To begin with think of the monthly savings, we can now put that towards fuel costs. Less time spent worrying about where the next bathroom stop is, and if you remembered to bring your travelling pocket arsenal with you. You will be as warm as a bug in a rug on a more regular basis. No longer will you have those cold feet in bed at night. Nope, instead you will become a mini Niagara Falls showering your partner with sweat. Oh so romantic. On the bright side, you will be toasty warm laying in your ground blind on the frozen tundra with the ambient air temp of minus 10 degrees F. You might even feel the need to shed a layer or two . . . or three after you've been there awhile. When you get back to camp your male comrades will comment on the sub zero temps and how cold they were, while you give them a shy smile and think to yourself "it is just right ". You become a master at layering your hunting apparel for those uncontrollable internal boiler room flare ups.

You are the first one up in the mornings (cause you no longer sleep) and have the fire stoked, coffee made and are ready to go. Your male comrades are baffled by this "new you". You once enjoyed coffee in bed and was the last to get up. They scratch their. . . well you know. So they need some time to adjust to not having to do the typical early morning chores. Trust me, they adapt very quickly. As for going on trips in bear country just think, you're no longer the BAIT. You are much safer and the playing field has definitely levelled a bit. Now is the time to go on that wild Alaskan adventure you've always dreamed about, where you're out numbered by Ursus middendorffi. Just as long as you are not the slowest one in camp, you have nothing to worry about.

In conclusion, you will enjoy a whole new perspective on everything. Your new found ability to adapt to your own internal global warming by proper layering of your clothes. Saving on your homes heating bills in the winter. Not being bungied to restrooms sporadically. Having more awake time to get done what you weren't able to the night before. More cash for gas and groceries (yea right). And finally, being able to go on that trip of a lifetime to Alaska.

Hell, life's never been better!

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.

Recipe: Apple Oatmeal Crunch

Women hunters can not live on meat alone.... So eat dessert first.

Ingredients:
4 c. Granny Smith apples (peeled & sliced)
3/4 c. sugar
2 tbs. flour
1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. butter
2/3 c. oats
1 tbs. cinnamon

Directions:
Place apples, sugar and 2 tbs. flour in buttered 12" Dutch Oven.
In a separate bowl mix brown sugar, cut in butter, add oats, cinnamon
and then place over apples in Dutch Oven.
Bake 1 hour at 300 F. ( 7 coals on bottom and 14 on top)
Serve warm with cream.

This recipe comes from a good friend Mark C. (thanks Mark). It has been field tested by women hunters, naturalists, mountain climbers and by the loyal order of the Redneck Review. Bet you can't eat just one bowl!

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Review: LaCrosse AlpahaBurly Sport Insulated Boots

I recently spoke with a representative at LaCrosse Footwear, to find out what they'll be offering women hunters this Fall. I was surprised to learn that they are discontinuing a few styles. The good news is that the model I have they are going to continue providing. Specifically the AlphaBurly Sport Insulated 18" Realtree Hardwood HD 800 Gr. boot, style #200037 (soon to be style # 200044) as of July 2008. I bought mine last Fall and used them a lot throughout the waterfowl season. Firstly, they are offered in whole sizes only, so go up to the next whole size if you wear a half size. With that said, mine are awesome and show no signs of abuse after their first season afield. I replaced the factory foot bed with my own custom orthotics http://www.footform.com/ and the fit is wonderful. I found the Alpha Burly boots to be nimble, lightweight and not cumbersome. The sole has sufficient traction and support, so as not to be flimsy in any way what so ever. The fleece lining has held up to my abuse and shows no sign of wear. There is an adjustable gusset at top back with a cam buckle if you want them snugged up, for real nasty mud. They weigh in at 5.5 lbs. per pair. I used mine for late season goose hunting and my feet were toasty warm. Even late season goose hunting in my layout blind, & on snow for 4-5 hours at a time. My backside got a bit frosty, but not my feet. In conclusion for women hunters, I highly recommend the AlphaBurly boots. Especially if you're wanting something other than hip waders or your leather field boots for hunting. http://www.lacrossefootwear.com/

Women's Hunting Journal Integrity For The Hunt

Disclaimer: No financial gains were made for this review.