How Have I Changed over 40 Years

Mac, a 24hourCampfire regular asked “How Has Your Point of View on Hunting Changed as you aged?”

The problem is that you take 40 years and try to distill it all down, it ends up with something like:

“WWII happened because Hitler invaded Poland. The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and we dropped The Bomb.”

I thought I’d make my response a bit more nuanced than that. I have written 4 vignettes, one for each decade. Hopefully, y’all can find a progression there.

From 40 years ago:

Jay ran the archery store in Burlington. I was just getting into bowhunting. I came in with a broken Martin Cougar Magnum that I’d picked up used. Jay re-limbed it for me. I would drive 20 miles to that store at least one night a week to practice and try to pry bowhunting secrets out of Jay, who was alleged to be a bowhunting guru.

At this point, I had not yet secured a decent place to hunt. I had no clue what I was doing. I had read articles in magazines and tried to hunt in a buddy’s backyard. We’ll save that story for another day.

Jay seemed always tight-lipped to me as if he really didn’t want to cough up any of his secrets. More than anything, I think he was just busy with the store. I did manage to engage him one night.

“There comes a point where you can look at fresh fallen leaves and see where a buck has walked through,” he said.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Experience,” Jay replied. “Eventually, you just know.”

From 30 years ago:

It poured down rain all morning on The Bow Opener in Indiana. I got up and played with the baby, and did a few chores. Eventually, the rain lifted, and I rode out to a place north of Vevay, IN. I had a spot picked out. I had seen a large buck emerge from the woods near a stand of large oaks the previous fall, and found plenty of sign in those woods when I scouted.

I got there in mid-afternoon, just as the front was clearing. Indeed, I could see where deer had been walking a fence line in the woods and then veering off to feast on acorns in this oak grove. I put up my climbing stand overlooking the fence line, and laid down a scent trail with some tarsal scent before going up. Just at sundown the largest buck I had ever seen out hunting walked up, and stood 15 yards broadside to me. This was the first decent buck I ever got with a bow. I repeated from the same stand on the same day the next year with an even bigger buck.

Jay had been right: eventually, you just know.

From 20 years ago:

We had just gotten the farm in mid-September. I was on a mission to get something together for bow season, whatever it was. I was working like a maniac to get the house liveable by the time cold weather set in. I had sworn off all scents, calls, and decoys to make things easier. Indeed, by this time, my bowhunting rituals had gotten overly elaborate. This was a major change, and it started to make bowhunting fun again. I ended up taking doe and a buck during RIfle Season, and this was the first time, I started to enjoy hunting with a rifle for its own sake as opposed to just an interlude between bow hunts.

I had promised #2 son, Mooseboy, that I would take him squirrel hunting. This was going to be his first time afield with me. Mooseboy was only 8 at the time.

Our first attempt did not go so well. We traveled to the northeastern extremity of the farm to a large oak that was certain to have squirrels. We hunted that and several more spots on that side of the property before trudging back to the house.

Mooseboy was so distraught that he cried bitterly. This was just the first leg of our hunt. I got him calmed down and we took off again for what we later came to call “Hootin Holler.” On the south side of that ravine is a place crawling with squirrels.

Finally, after 20 minutes down in the ravine, a squirrel came out on a branch only 10 yards from us. I handed Mooseboy the shotgun and bade him take the shot. This was supposed to be a surprise treat. Instead, Mooseboy passed the shotgun back, saying that he did not have a license. By the time I got through to him that a kid his age didn’t need a license yet, the squirrel had taken off.

I finally got one later that morning. We were both gassed from all the hill climbing by the time we got back to the house. Whatever happened on that trip, it lit a fire in Mooseboy that burns in him still.

From 10 years ago:

The whole thing with the bum shoulder had gone down in 2007.The doc called it chronic Bursitis. I had given up bow hunting, but I had not given up. I spent the whole of the fall working with a used crossbow I had picked up. I had a medical exemption. I could use it in place of my compound bow. I found the contraption not all that much fun to use– much more clunky than a regular bow. However, I was determined to make it work.

Finally, mid-October, I was sitting in Moose’s stand out by Virginia when a fairly nice buck sauntered through mid-morning. I put the crosshairs on him and let fly. The buck just stood there, looking up in my general direction, but not at me. As it turned out, the scope had so reduced my field of view that I had not noticed the limb about halfway to the buck. The arc of the bolt had caused it to slam into the limb and glance off. The buck walked off disgusted.

This was the last time I tried to hunt with a crossbow. I found that I had far more time to be with my family, and get back to other things that mattered– like squirrel hunting. I still get out in the woods as much, but I save the actual deer killing and freezer filling for Rifle Season in mid-November.

From This Past Weekend

I got down to camp in mid-afternoon, and spent some time taking a nap. Some of the neighbors to the north stopped by to introduce themselves. They are a group of 4 hunters that have gone in as partners on Wally’s old place. They seem like nice guys. They have not had much luck yet– one doe last year and one turkey this year. I told them of the property’s illustrious past and told them to give it time.

Moose and the Mooselette arrived just as the sun was going down. Moose rushed around and managed to get out for a quick squirrel hunt at Virginia. He’s now hunting with a tricked-out 10/22 on a 1-point sling. While cleaning, I found the binos that I had given Lil Angus back when he was Mooselette’s age. While her daddy went off hunting, Mooselette and I stayed up at the house to watch deer from the Thoughtful Spot.

It took about a half-hour for the floor show to start. First, it was just a doe that came out to munch on the weeds by the Jagende Hutte. However, she got suddenly antsy. Two more deer showed up. One was a young buck. Mooselette saw the antlers first. Frankly, my eyes are not that good. The next guy that appeared could easily be the next camp record. Another buck and doe showed up, and then the real fun began. The largest buck started taking on all comers. This wasn’t the full-on fighting we may see later in the month, but it was a sincere exchange. We could hear the tines crashing and the occasional moan coming from 400 yards. Eventually, the big buck tired of the whole thing, having run off two opponents. He left by way of the barn at Broken Corners.

That was a queue for another fairly decent buck to come into the field and take his turn tussling with the underlings. They were going at it until well after we lost light.

At the height of the fighting, we had heard a couple of shots coming from over by Virginia. Moose showed up after dark with a squirrel. He’s going to have to do some work on his sights, the first shot had gone whizzing over the squirrel’s head. He had two more before the weekend was finished. He and Mooselette had a father/daughter hunt early.

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