westernslopehunter
Member
So I grew up in the Midwest, Wisconsin. We had 85 acres of land in central Wisconsin that primarily served as a hunting property for us. My grandfather had purchased the property in the 1960s for nothing and at the time, it was 85 acres of mostly treeless hills and prairie. My grandfather planted trees all over and by the time I can remember first going there, in the late 1980s, it was covered in beautiful timber with some prairie mixed in. It was a beautiful place and I spent almost every weekend there growing up, cutting grass, gardening, shooting my bow, maintaining trails, and building/maintaining our tree stands. I sorely miss it and hope whoever has it now has kept it a wild place in our ever shrinking world.
My dad was a hunter and took me into the stand with him bow hunting when I was young as 5 years old. I am sure I was a huge asset to him at that age and not a huge liability. My first memory of hunting actually involves eating an apple up in the stand with my dad and him telling me to throw that apple core as far as I could when I finished it. I think that my dad did an excellent job introducing me to hunting. He deliberately did not take animals while I was there with him for the first few years. He waited until I was older, maybe around 9 or 10, before he actually shot something so I would be able to better deal with the emotional aspects of seeing death. At the time, it drove me crazy because I wanted to see success but I see now why he did it and think it was the right choice.
We had a true Wisconsin deer camp every year for gun season. My dad, his hunting buddy, his hunting buddy's sons, and both myself and my brother would go up every opening weekend in November. We would play cards, eat donuts, and generally have the best time all year hunting whitetails with our .30-.30 rifles. This is where I first saw my father take an animal and I can still remember how exciting the whole thing was. I also learned how to process deer up at our deer camp - we did our own skinning and butchering out in the garage after opening day each year. At the time, I do not think that I appreciated how useful these skills were that my dad was passing down to me.
I took my first deer at age 15 with bow. At the time, I think I was pretty low in terms of mental health. That is a difficult age and transitioning to high school was difficult those first two months because I barely knew anyone at the school. All of that went away that September weekend, when I finally tasted success. It was a Friday evening and I went out to my favorite tree stand, which we referred to as "the tripod." All of our stands had nicknames. We had "the far end, at the far end of our 85 acres. We had "the oasis," which was located in a copse of trees in the middle of one of the prairie areas of our property. The "tripod," which was attached to/between three trees in the timber was my favorite stand. I saw deer there almost every time I sat there and my dad always gave me first choice on where I wanted to go once he allowed me to hunt on my own. That's another thing I did not appreciate at the time. Anyway, I was there that particular evening when I saw a small, six point buck moving in my direction through the trees. Much to my surprise, he came up one of the offshoot game trails that led directly under my stand. I have never, in my life to this day, had my heart beat as fast or as loudly as it did as that buck approached. I was shaking and could barely breathe from the anticipation of the moment but the arrow flew true. He only went about 30 yards or so. I had the usual gamut of emotions at seeing what I had done. At first, extreme sadness - but eventually it transitioned to the elation that you feel at finally accomplishing a goal that you had worked so hard to achieve. I still remember it well to this day, even though it was almost 20 years ago.
From that point forward, though, I started hunting less and less. I ended up making friends but none of them hunted or participated in outdoor activities outside of hiking. It is somewhat ironic because my father got into hunting because of the friends that he made in high school and college. My grandfather definitely was not a hunter. I started to get out of hunting for the same reason. I hunted one more bow season (with no success) and two-three other gun seasons where I did take deer. I think what finally drove me to stop was my last gun season, which happened at the height of the CWD control efforts when we first learned CWD had made it to Wisconsin. Officials were asking that everyone take deer (there were "eradication" zones) but not to eat any of the meat. My father and I took animals that season but we ended up just dropping the carcasses off and not keeping the meat. It was a sickening feeling and it was just another factor that caused me to leave hunting from that point forward. Later, I was too busy with college and law school to give it much thought.
My family ended up selling the property that we had in Wisconsin and I moved away to Colorado. Been out here since 2010, but time commitments with work made doing anything impossible on the weekends. For the first 5 years or so in my job, I worked 6 days a week for at least 10 hours a day. Honestly, it was killing me. I remember sitting in the office one Sunday in July, in the prime of my life, realizing that I was wasting my life and would never look back at these times with fondness on my death bed. I missed the outdoors and made a pact (with myself) to stop working so goddamn much and get out into the wild.
It started with fly fishing and camping more often. I decided I wanted to learn and put everything towards getting outside. I started camping in beautiful wilderness areas:
And I started figuring out fly fishing. It was extremely difficult at first as I only had experience with conventional gear and had never fished a river in my life. I was a lake fisherman. I started on a tiny creek near where I lived because it was close. It ended up being the best possible river to learn on because that small water teaches you where the fish hide. I listened to every Rosenbauer podcast, watched the Orvis fly fishing videos, and figured it out on my own. Eventually, I was fishing big water and catching trout one a regular basis.
Once I had "conquered" fly fishing, I felt like I wanted another outdoor challenge. I wanted to experience that high of being terrible at something and figuring it out on my own. I thought about how long it had been since I was hunting and that I really had no idea how to hunt on public land at all. I had always had that private 85 acres before - had never set foot on public land in Wisconsin in terms of hunting. So I set about trying to learn on my own, which led me to Randy Newberg, Meateater, Solohunter, etc. None of my friends really hunt to this day, which is probably due in large part to my (and my friends') political perspective and background. None of them grew up hunting or in a rural environment. So I set about on this adventure on my own as well.
I started to get serious on learning to hunt on public land out here in the West in 2017. 2016 was the year of fly fishing - 2017 was the year of the hunt. I went to one of the CPW seminars on hunting turkeys early in 2017, where I learned a lot. I took that and put it to good use once the season opened in 2017. I got my first turkey ever about 2 weeks or so into the season and I could not have been happier. It was an amazing experience. I had been walking up this trail after work one day, not really hearing much of anything. I was thinking about calling it an evening when I decided to get off the trail a bit and bushwhack back. I got about 30 yards or so into the pinyon off the trail and did a few hen calls. Immediately, the entire forest around me erupted in gobbles. I cannot even estimate how many birds gobbled back at me - to this day I have never heard anything like it. I went, sat with my back down next to the closest tree, and waited. At this same time, thunder started rolling in (it was a rainy day) and much to my surprise, the turkeys started gobbling in response to the thunder. It was one of the best hunting experiences I have ever had. Eventually, I started seeing those tell tale red heads moving through the woods toward my location. While there were birds everywhere, a group of 5 turkeys came in very, very close to me. Around 5 yards or so. I was sitting there trying to the best of my ability to see a beard but all I could see was a little nub sticking out at like a 90 degree angle from their necks. I could not tell if that was a beard or not (it was a group of jakes). So I sat there, trembling, waiting to confirm whether one was legal to shoot. Looking back, it is rather humorous as they were clearly bearded Jakes but I was so inexperienced at the time I had no idea. As they turned to walk away, finding no hen there, I did a very quiet hen call. Immediately, all five BLEW UP with gobbles and started strutting around. Even inexperienced me knew they were bearded male birds at that point, and so I shot my first turkey from maybe 5-10 yards away.
My dad was a hunter and took me into the stand with him bow hunting when I was young as 5 years old. I am sure I was a huge asset to him at that age and not a huge liability. My first memory of hunting actually involves eating an apple up in the stand with my dad and him telling me to throw that apple core as far as I could when I finished it. I think that my dad did an excellent job introducing me to hunting. He deliberately did not take animals while I was there with him for the first few years. He waited until I was older, maybe around 9 or 10, before he actually shot something so I would be able to better deal with the emotional aspects of seeing death. At the time, it drove me crazy because I wanted to see success but I see now why he did it and think it was the right choice.
We had a true Wisconsin deer camp every year for gun season. My dad, his hunting buddy, his hunting buddy's sons, and both myself and my brother would go up every opening weekend in November. We would play cards, eat donuts, and generally have the best time all year hunting whitetails with our .30-.30 rifles. This is where I first saw my father take an animal and I can still remember how exciting the whole thing was. I also learned how to process deer up at our deer camp - we did our own skinning and butchering out in the garage after opening day each year. At the time, I do not think that I appreciated how useful these skills were that my dad was passing down to me.
I took my first deer at age 15 with bow. At the time, I think I was pretty low in terms of mental health. That is a difficult age and transitioning to high school was difficult those first two months because I barely knew anyone at the school. All of that went away that September weekend, when I finally tasted success. It was a Friday evening and I went out to my favorite tree stand, which we referred to as "the tripod." All of our stands had nicknames. We had "the far end, at the far end of our 85 acres. We had "the oasis," which was located in a copse of trees in the middle of one of the prairie areas of our property. The "tripod," which was attached to/between three trees in the timber was my favorite stand. I saw deer there almost every time I sat there and my dad always gave me first choice on where I wanted to go once he allowed me to hunt on my own. That's another thing I did not appreciate at the time. Anyway, I was there that particular evening when I saw a small, six point buck moving in my direction through the trees. Much to my surprise, he came up one of the offshoot game trails that led directly under my stand. I have never, in my life to this day, had my heart beat as fast or as loudly as it did as that buck approached. I was shaking and could barely breathe from the anticipation of the moment but the arrow flew true. He only went about 30 yards or so. I had the usual gamut of emotions at seeing what I had done. At first, extreme sadness - but eventually it transitioned to the elation that you feel at finally accomplishing a goal that you had worked so hard to achieve. I still remember it well to this day, even though it was almost 20 years ago.
From that point forward, though, I started hunting less and less. I ended up making friends but none of them hunted or participated in outdoor activities outside of hiking. It is somewhat ironic because my father got into hunting because of the friends that he made in high school and college. My grandfather definitely was not a hunter. I started to get out of hunting for the same reason. I hunted one more bow season (with no success) and two-three other gun seasons where I did take deer. I think what finally drove me to stop was my last gun season, which happened at the height of the CWD control efforts when we first learned CWD had made it to Wisconsin. Officials were asking that everyone take deer (there were "eradication" zones) but not to eat any of the meat. My father and I took animals that season but we ended up just dropping the carcasses off and not keeping the meat. It was a sickening feeling and it was just another factor that caused me to leave hunting from that point forward. Later, I was too busy with college and law school to give it much thought.
My family ended up selling the property that we had in Wisconsin and I moved away to Colorado. Been out here since 2010, but time commitments with work made doing anything impossible on the weekends. For the first 5 years or so in my job, I worked 6 days a week for at least 10 hours a day. Honestly, it was killing me. I remember sitting in the office one Sunday in July, in the prime of my life, realizing that I was wasting my life and would never look back at these times with fondness on my death bed. I missed the outdoors and made a pact (with myself) to stop working so goddamn much and get out into the wild.
It started with fly fishing and camping more often. I decided I wanted to learn and put everything towards getting outside. I started camping in beautiful wilderness areas:
And I started figuring out fly fishing. It was extremely difficult at first as I only had experience with conventional gear and had never fished a river in my life. I was a lake fisherman. I started on a tiny creek near where I lived because it was close. It ended up being the best possible river to learn on because that small water teaches you where the fish hide. I listened to every Rosenbauer podcast, watched the Orvis fly fishing videos, and figured it out on my own. Eventually, I was fishing big water and catching trout one a regular basis.
Once I had "conquered" fly fishing, I felt like I wanted another outdoor challenge. I wanted to experience that high of being terrible at something and figuring it out on my own. I thought about how long it had been since I was hunting and that I really had no idea how to hunt on public land at all. I had always had that private 85 acres before - had never set foot on public land in Wisconsin in terms of hunting. So I set about trying to learn on my own, which led me to Randy Newberg, Meateater, Solohunter, etc. None of my friends really hunt to this day, which is probably due in large part to my (and my friends') political perspective and background. None of them grew up hunting or in a rural environment. So I set about on this adventure on my own as well.
I started to get serious on learning to hunt on public land out here in the West in 2017. 2016 was the year of fly fishing - 2017 was the year of the hunt. I went to one of the CPW seminars on hunting turkeys early in 2017, where I learned a lot. I took that and put it to good use once the season opened in 2017. I got my first turkey ever about 2 weeks or so into the season and I could not have been happier. It was an amazing experience. I had been walking up this trail after work one day, not really hearing much of anything. I was thinking about calling it an evening when I decided to get off the trail a bit and bushwhack back. I got about 30 yards or so into the pinyon off the trail and did a few hen calls. Immediately, the entire forest around me erupted in gobbles. I cannot even estimate how many birds gobbled back at me - to this day I have never heard anything like it. I went, sat with my back down next to the closest tree, and waited. At this same time, thunder started rolling in (it was a rainy day) and much to my surprise, the turkeys started gobbling in response to the thunder. It was one of the best hunting experiences I have ever had. Eventually, I started seeing those tell tale red heads moving through the woods toward my location. While there were birds everywhere, a group of 5 turkeys came in very, very close to me. Around 5 yards or so. I was sitting there trying to the best of my ability to see a beard but all I could see was a little nub sticking out at like a 90 degree angle from their necks. I could not tell if that was a beard or not (it was a group of jakes). So I sat there, trembling, waiting to confirm whether one was legal to shoot. Looking back, it is rather humorous as they were clearly bearded Jakes but I was so inexperienced at the time I had no idea. As they turned to walk away, finding no hen there, I did a very quiet hen call. Immediately, all five BLEW UP with gobbles and started strutting around. Even inexperienced me knew they were bearded male birds at that point, and so I shot my first turkey from maybe 5-10 yards away.
