Hydrophilic
Well-known member
I had a hard time thinking of a title and for some reason a Cormac McCarthy style chapter heading made sense.
I’ve grown up the in west and have hunted vast acres of public land my entire life. Most hunts involve miles and miles of legwork and occasionally sitting on strategic crossovers waiting for animals to cross. It’s a lifestyle I cherish and have grown to appreciate more and more as I’ve learned about the history and sacrifices which have made this lifestyle possible, some of it coming from the creator of this forum.
This fall I returned to my roots, a unique piece of land in Northern Michigan which has been in my family for generations. To be exact - my great, great, great grandparents immigrated here from Sweden. We still have portions of the property in our family and over the years it has fluctuated from potato fields, hay fields, sheep fields, and timber lands.
The cabin is heavily dotted with antlers from years past. My favorite is this Great Depression buck my grandfather shot when he was young. His first buck.
I spent my first couple mornings in a pre determined deer blind, assigned to me by a family member. The red glow of a propane heater was both interesting and appreciated.
I had a hard time sitting in a blind for extended periods. It was interesting being sore from sitting all day, without my full consent, as opposed to being sore from beating the living shit out of myself on public lands back home, with my complete consent.
I decided to leave the blind and do some exploring. Sometimes the land talks and I find If I’m willing to listen it will tell me a lot. This hunting blind has seen better days but it was actually a reminder from my great grandpa that this was a spot to respect.
The mist in the air would conceal the deer, only to rapidly reveal them for a minute, just before they slipped away again.
When the time came I crossed paths with a beautiful buck and, with respect, ended his story and made it part of my families. His antlers will be placed among the others in our cabin and tell stories to future generations. He was my first whitetail and I thanked him.
On my last day I noticed a remnant trout run on a creek which had been cut off from its lake by various means over the years - culverts, dams, etc.
My ancestors would spear giant trout before the run declined and the trout size greatly decreased. It made me ponder the future. Someday I’ll help steward the land and it’s interesting to think about where it will go. Surrounding properties have been carved up into smaller parcels of 40-80 acres. Chronic wasting disease is in the southern portion of the state. Many species of wildlife are struggling to adapt to a rapidly changing world. These issues will be part of the story future generations will hear about.
I’ve grown up the in west and have hunted vast acres of public land my entire life. Most hunts involve miles and miles of legwork and occasionally sitting on strategic crossovers waiting for animals to cross. It’s a lifestyle I cherish and have grown to appreciate more and more as I’ve learned about the history and sacrifices which have made this lifestyle possible, some of it coming from the creator of this forum.
This fall I returned to my roots, a unique piece of land in Northern Michigan which has been in my family for generations. To be exact - my great, great, great grandparents immigrated here from Sweden. We still have portions of the property in our family and over the years it has fluctuated from potato fields, hay fields, sheep fields, and timber lands.
The cabin is heavily dotted with antlers from years past. My favorite is this Great Depression buck my grandfather shot when he was young. His first buck.
I spent my first couple mornings in a pre determined deer blind, assigned to me by a family member. The red glow of a propane heater was both interesting and appreciated.
I had a hard time sitting in a blind for extended periods. It was interesting being sore from sitting all day, without my full consent, as opposed to being sore from beating the living shit out of myself on public lands back home, with my complete consent.
I decided to leave the blind and do some exploring. Sometimes the land talks and I find If I’m willing to listen it will tell me a lot. This hunting blind has seen better days but it was actually a reminder from my great grandpa that this was a spot to respect.
The mist in the air would conceal the deer, only to rapidly reveal them for a minute, just before they slipped away again.
When the time came I crossed paths with a beautiful buck and, with respect, ended his story and made it part of my families. His antlers will be placed among the others in our cabin and tell stories to future generations. He was my first whitetail and I thanked him.
On my last day I noticed a remnant trout run on a creek which had been cut off from its lake by various means over the years - culverts, dams, etc.
My ancestors would spear giant trout before the run declined and the trout size greatly decreased. It made me ponder the future. Someday I’ll help steward the land and it’s interesting to think about where it will go. Surrounding properties have been carved up into smaller parcels of 40-80 acres. Chronic wasting disease is in the southern portion of the state. Many species of wildlife are struggling to adapt to a rapidly changing world. These issues will be part of the story future generations will hear about.
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