Rustic Barn Outdoors Magazine

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Kay Fetts Being proficient in hunting, fishing and firearms was a dream of mine since I was a little girl. My dad took me fishing a few times, but this was his activity to do with his buddies, so daughters weren't always allowed. Although I didn't get to realize this dream as a kid, the desire always lied dormant within me. Fast forward to an adult, I began taking advantage of organizations dedicated to teaching women to hunt and shoot. I attended a "Becoming An Outdoors Woman" retreat in Raton, New Mexico where I learned to field dress wild game and various survival skills.

I began to read different things about foraging, survival skills, canning, and preserving just to build a solid base of knowledge. I would also hunt occasionally with friends, but oftentimes, as other women can attest to, it's very difficult to find someone you can trust to teach you about the outdoors or that has the patience for it. I would run into guys that were very arrogant about their skills and often unkind in their teaching. I did not have the skill or knowledge to do it alone, so I was completely dependent upon those around me to learn about the outdoors. My desire to be more proficient in the outdoors was rooted in wanting more hobbies, but that all changed when I became a Mom. Being a new mother and realizing I would be doing it alone, my desire intensified from pursuing these skills as a hobby to wanting to show my daughter how to thrive and survive outdoors.

While I was pregnant, my husband at the time told me that I'd never find anyone to teach her outdoor skills as he knew that was important to me. I decided to take my chances. Several years later, I am blessed to be with a Man that is kind, has decades of experience and loves to share his vast knowledge of all things outdoors. With my first hunt in the books and many fishing trips under my belt, I am well on my way to finally being the outdoors woman I've always wanted to be.

This has also renewed my desire to start a non-profit specifically geared to teaching Single Mothers that were in the same place as me. Single mothers that have a desire to learn and pass these critical life skills down to their children, but don't have someone they can trust to learn from.

I understand the unique challenges of time constraints, finances, having trust issues, and sleepless nights worrying about the future and whether your child will be prepared. I am thankful for the situations and people that discouraged me. It has only made my desire to master these areas and help other women achieve proficiency in the outdoors, one Mom and child at a time.

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needed to be culled. The cull bull is identified as a male giraffe that is no longer reproducing. These cull bulls also tend to prevent other healthy males from reproducing with females in the herd, slowing down any growth. I also found out that the darkness in giraffe color is a sign of old age.

The darkness in giraffe color is a sign of old age.

Not long after, the news came from Africa. Every characteristic I was looking for was found in one specific dark bull giraffe. I told myself that this was a sign, and without a doubt an ethical hunt. This opportunity was not only was meant to be for me, but needed to happen to ensure the future of this herd.

The Hunt The Hunt

Arriving at the airport, my emotions were all over the place! From being tired, straight to excited! After a several hour drive, we arrived at the location the giraffe had been. We settled into our sleeping quarters for

Why the Black Giraffe?

Tess Talley

Photos courtesy of Tess Talley

the night, and I found myself sleeping in a barn stall;cold, dark, noises off in the distance, and bathroom facilities in a separate building. It’s all a part of what made this specific hunt memorable. Being the first American to hunt this specific area will always stand out in my mind.

Around 2am, everyone is still asleep in their areas, but I can no longer

The old Giraffe chosen to be harvested for conservation.

A Challenge

After successfully hunting various wild game in the U.S., and Plains game animals in South Africa, I decided it was time to push myself out of my comfort zone. Up until this point, most of the animals I had harvested were the average size of an axis deer or whitetail deer. I felt that I was ready to push myself and challenge my abilities by hunting larger animals.

Why was this a challenge? Because a good hunt always is.

What to choose?

Today’s hunting industry focuses on managing animals properly -- no matter how pretty and innocent Hollywood has made a specific species, we can't discriminate. It has to be done in order to keep herds healthy, numbers flourishing, and a value on that animal helps to protect the entire species from poachers. So, I made the decision to hunt a giraffe!

Crazy, right? Whatever your previous opinions are -- one fact remains, management hunting saves habitats and ensures the future of these animals, where they otherwise might not have one.

Preparing for the Hunt

While planning this hunt, it was important that I made sure population numbers were up, that there was a herd that needed to be managed, and more specifically a bull that

sleep. I’m ready to get this hunt started. With a flashlight, I make my way to the bathroom facility to get dressed and ready. I’m not always smooth and swift at what I do! Lol! After getting dressed, I find out I’m – wait for it - LOCKED INSIDE! Let me just say, I’m not a pro a using skeleton keys and that’s all I had to work with. My only option was to climb a toilet and squeeze through a window that I never imagined fitting through. But I got out! I just had to admit what I’d done and laugh that now everyone is LOCKED OUT of the bathroom.

Come morning, its time to load up and head out into the bush! After a while of driving around and walking the area, we spotted him off in a distance. Even though he was far off, he saw us first and took off. In my mind, I’m trying to figure out how to sneak up on an animal that is as tall as a two story building, and it not see me first.

Much later, we spotted him again, and I’m finally given a clear shot.

Nerves are shakin’, and everything is going through my mind. I had to make one clean shot. Under no circumstance do I want to wound this animal, then have to track for hours, or worse, cause him any suffering.

One shot and he’s down!!! Thank you, Jesus! I knew then that every prayer I prayed had been heard. It’s a lot on a hunter to take a life, regardless of the impact it has on you. We as hunters can relate in that way on every hunt!

The Backlash

Vile! Scum! Murderer! These are just a few new titles given to me by anti-hunters and Hollywood for my recent giraffe hunt. First, I get that there is a large population of people who don’t hunt and can’t wrap their 7

mind around how conservation and management hunting really work. Even some hunters do not understand. But that’s ok, big game hunting and Trophy Hunting is not for all hunters. I see all harvested animals as a trophy, it’s something I set out to do, worked hard to accomplish and a goal I reach. I will never have any regrets of being a hunter, traveling the world or providing for myself and many others. I don’t mean for my hunting to offend anyone, but I’ll NEVER apologize for being a hunter!

Keeping the Species Alive.

Joyful news!! We did it!! I received a message from my Outfitters after harvesting the old bull, the young bulls were now able to join the herd and impregnate the females.

This new baby, is the first they have seen in 2 years.

Hunting in Africa provides one of the only sources of conservation for the animals there. The first reason I’m a hunter is conservation, the future development of the species. It’s a proven fact that hunting works, and I have the pictures to prove it!

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The Rut Is Real..

It’s a whopping 3:30 AM and my alarm is blaring ... Any other day I’d hit snooze, but not today. It’s finally the opening day of rifle Whitetail season in Texas. I will finally be able to hunt my new deer lease for the first time, the Glass Ranch, located in West Texas. In preparation for the season, I’ve been checking my cameras often, and I knew I had what you would consider a couple shooter bucks ready to go.

The temperature outside was great, frigid for Texas – and not my favorite for anything except hunting. But perfect weather to get the deer up and moving. As I sat in my blind, I watched the sun come up, listened to the birds awaken, and I watched an owl perched in the neighboring tree. I was in peace as a sat and listened to the amazing sound of them communicating with one another far off in the distance. I love these moments! With the sun up, I became anxious waiting and I had myself all worked up, ready to see any deer movement. Even a doe would be great!

Already thinking about how I want to process my harvest ... I know, ‘counting my chickens before they hatch’. I’m guilty!

When mid-morning comes and goes, I still haven’t seen a thing.

No movement. Not sure what went wrong where. According to the game cameras, these deer are in this area religiously.

They never miss a meal. So of course, opening day rolls around and they skip out – go figure.

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After a quick break for lunch and a reboot – I get myself back to my blind around three in the afternoon. Man, I couldn’t get back to my blind fast enough. Since the deer didn’t come in for the early morning feeding, I checked my camera while on lunch, only to find that ate ALL NIGHT. The dang deer pulled an all-nighter, and didn’t show up for my morning hunt.

I hadn’t lost hope yet. It’s a cool crisp day, the deer could stroll through here midday, or even this evening. Anything is possible, it’s hunting, right? Plus, I brought my leftover pumpkins from home for the deer this time around. Talk about fresh food. I busted them on the ground in the feeding area so a deer couldn’t easily eat on the bounty.

All afternoon I kept hearing gun shots on properties all around me – and I had mixed emotions. As excited as I was for the other hunters, I was beginning to get discouraged at the same time. LOL! By the time six pm rolls around, the feeder goes off and there are still no deer to speak of in my sights. I’ve heard a lot about the rut going on in other areas, and I thought there’s no way that it could have hit here with such a lack of activity.

Boy, was I wrong. From out of nowhere, a doe comes, and minutes later a spike shows up on her tail. Okay, I have movement. Slowly, as a little time passes, more deer are moving in. My gun still propped up in the corner, my heart started beating as fast as if I was about to attempt to harvest my first deer. For the last 3 months I’ve had one doe and her two yearlings on my camera. As I sat, I counted seven does and yearlings prancing around where I can see them. Where have they been all this time? The bucks are finding their way into the area now as well. Necks stuck out, noses to the ground, and at a steady pace, they strategically placed themselves around the does.

Like teenagers with raging hormones, these does cannot stay in one spot very long before being chased around by a buck. It seems the rut is on. Every doe and pretty much every yearling are being tailed.

Even, if I wanted to get a shot off, I couldn’t. It was pure chaos. I was staring a circus at the feeder. Two does were on their back feet fighting by the feeder, I could hear the thumps from their hooves hitting each other. Bucks were keeping the other ones on their toes and moving around as well. They would run out of sight for a few minutes, and I would begin to panic that they were gone for good.

Then a bit later a doe would come running back into view being chased by a buck. This went on with every deer there for about an hour.

With dusk close – I could barely make out in the distance a rack and a thick neck. I had spotted a decent buck making his way in. In order to better see what I was looking at, I grabbed my binoculars. This buck was a fatty. I watched him slowly make his way closer. I repeat, slowly... It was like this buck knew the sun was going down and it would soon be too dark for me to hunt. Continuously watching his every move with my binoculars, he got distracted on his way to the feeder when he found a doe to chase. He went from moving at his own pace to a ping pong ball within two minutes. I had seen this buck on camera a lot in the past, actually since he was in velvet. He was a very interesting character, and a few things set him aside from the other deer. His body was HUGE and his antlers had amazing mass (in my opinion), but they weren’t symmetrical, or typical on both sides. In my opinion he was a fantastic buck, but on the other hand, did his genetics really need to be carried on? That was all the thought process I needed.

Waiting for this beast to calm down for just a minute felt like an eternity. He was too focused on his trail, and I could not focus on him due to being all over the place. I was trying my best to keep my eye on him, but the other deer kept getting in the way. Before I knew it, I had a yearling about 20 yards from my blind, a ground blind mind you. I knew I could spook it off with one wrong move or sound. That meant that the rest of the deer may notice and run off too. I knew I had to be extra careful with moving around, and also extremely quiet doing so. Challenge excepted. All I could hear was my heart beating.

It was beating me to death at this point! Trying to get set up to take a shot the first opportunity I got, I now have to take the yearlong in

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front of my blind into consideration and make sure that this little deer is NOT in the line of fire.

My finger on the trigger, I’m watching him at 150 yards out. The buck I had been waiting to take a break for a while finally came to a stop for a split second – literally a split second! Thankfully missing the yearling that was standing right in front of my blind, my shot placement on the buck could not have been better. All of a sudden, I was shaking and my heartbeat seemed louder, like it was echoing across the entire Glass Ranch.

I watched the buck run a few steps and fall. Done. The buck didn’t try to get back up and there was no struggling.

Hallelujah!! I stayed in the blind giving him time. Out of probably 15 deer that were in sight all evening I’m pretty sure that only three ran off after I shot. They scattered for just a bit, but before I even realized it, the deer were right back to chasing each other. Oh mercy .. Another buck is trying to fight with the buck I had just shot. The circus seemed to continue. I was slowly trying to pull myself together and calm down to be able to get out of my blind to go check out my buck I just shot. I never expected these deer to stick around after hearing the loud gun shot.

Especially a whitetail deer. I couldn’t get out of my blind fast enough to go check out this buck. These deer were gonna have to take this party someplace else. I was so excited, I could barely contain myself.

Getting my hands on that buck was a long time coming!

He was beautiful. He was massive. He was so unique. He was a boss. To others he was a cull. To some he was a trophy. To me, out of the 15 trophies prancing around the field, I picked the best one for me. I shot a buck on a hunt that would always stick out in my mind before I ever seen him that evening. I was having the time of my life in that blind watching the deer in rut, feeling the excitement of what could still come wondering in, the shock of his first sighting, being mesmerized by his swollen neck and characteristics from off in a distance, seeing that he was an older buck who had served his whole purpose in life, he will now be serving my family and myself. This hunt and this deer is a story I’ll share with many for years to come.

The next time I see a piece of this buck, I’ll be saying grace over him at dinner and thanking the Lord once again for this amazing memory, nourishment and opportunity to share with many.

Venison Lunch Meat

I recently realized I needed to start cleaning out the freezers to make room for game that would be coming in with the new seasons coming up. I decided to make some lunch meat from some of the deer roasts I still had in the freezer. I figured this would allow me to eat some wild game almost daily and make space at the same time. It’s also a great way to gift wild game to other people. And, with football season coming up, it would be great to use for sandwiches, wraps, or simple snacks at a football party you host or at a tailgating event.

The beauty of this recipe is that the venison comes out tasting like some of the best roast beef sandwich meat you’ve ever had.

You will want to shoot for medium rare-medium doneness on this to maintain tenderness and flavor. If you cook it too done, the meat will be tough and dry. You can also cook several roasts and freeze the meat after slicing in 2-3 serving bags for later use. I weigh out the meat into 8 ounce servings and vacuum seal the bags and freeze for later use. I find that if I freeze in 8 ounce servings I’m not thawing out more than I will eat in a couple days, and none gets wasted.

INGREDIENTS: 2 Venison Top Round Roasts (2-3 pounds each) 2 TBSP Kosher Salt 1 TBSP Fresh Ground Black Pepper

2 TBSP Garlic Powder 1 TBSP Onion Powder ½ TBSP Smoked Paprika (regular paprika will work) DIRECTIONS: Start by removing as much silver skin as you can from each roast. This will help tremendously with tenderness in the final product. Insert the tip of a sharp fillet knife just under the surface of the silver skin and remove it in strips. Mix all the rub ingredients together in a bowl. Once you’ve removed as much silver skin as you can, coat each roast evenly with the rub. Preheat your oven to 475 degrees. Place the roasts in a baking dish or casserole dish. When the oven is hot, place the dish with the roasts in the oven and cook on 475 for 15 minutes, then reduce the heat to 250 degrees. Cook on 250 degrees until an instant read thermometer registers 135-145 degrees for medium to medium rare. 45 minutes to 1 hour should do the trick.

When the meat is to your desired temperature, remove it from the oven and transfer to a cutting board or cooling rack. Let the meat rest. I will even put it in the refrigerator overnight if I don’t have time to slice it right away. A meat slicer is great for this but if you don’t have one don’t worry too much. You can use a very sharp knife to slice the meat. It is definitely more labor intensive but it can be done. Just shave the meat as thinly as you can, remembering to cut against the grain. If you do have a meat slicer, simply follow the directions that go with your device and slice the meat as thin or thick as you prefer.

The sky is the limit as far as serving goes. You can make sandwiches with whatever condiments and fixings you want. Or low carb wraps may be the direction you want to go. Whatever you choose, I’m sure you will enjoy this simple and easy new way to use some of the game meat hiding out in your freezer. And don’t just stop at venison or deer meat here. I’ve used turkey breasts, turkey thighs, and goose breasts to make sandwich meat and they are all equally great!

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An Adventurous Comeback After A Hurricane Setback Angelle Larson

Being from SW Louisiana, I took a much needed “ESCAPE FROM REALITY” trip leaving my Hurricane Laura problems behind with another hurricane looming in the horizon to host a previously planned alligator hunt in Morganza, Louisiana.

Never having met any of these hunters prior but had connections through the “American Daughters of Conservation” organization our group being all first timers at this type of hunting was anxious but ready for the challenge. We split up into two groups to hunt. My group consisting of Catherine Gill, myself, and our two guides hunted near Travis Jewell’s duck camp.

Surprisedly, the alligators weren’t biting our previously baited lines - possibly due to the upcoming disturbance brewing in the Gulf. So, we ended up hunting on land along the Morganza spillway a few miles away from Travis’ hunting camp.

The ride through the swampy waters showcased majestic Spanish moss draped cypress trees and a multitude of birds being typical of a south Louisiana habitat. Covered in swamp weeds, foul smelling mud and mosquito hawks adhered to our bodies gave us the true experience of living the swamp life. Catherine got a nice gator, as well as the hunters in the other boat with Tracy Shaw, Julie Arton, and David Arton yielding 4 gators in their boat ranging between 7 1/2 to over 8 feet in length.

Excitement of the hunt was shared by all. Later on in the day while everyone was busy skinning and cleaning the already harvested alligators, I was informed there was a taunt line behind the camp where we had originally baited the lines with our “stinky” chicken bait the evening before but had no luck when checking them the morning of our actual hunt. Being told it was at the “Beer Can” line, named so because a can marked the spot, I had to chuckle remembering baiting that same line the night before and hearing rustling sounds in the swampy area behind the tree and teasing about Bigfoot watching us.

The guides reported the alligator was tangled up in duck weed but looked to be around 8 1/2 feet long but there was definitely a gator on the line. I was ready!!! Jumping excitedly in the Go Gator aluminum boat I soon discovered it was much bigger than we anticipated. After putting a 22 bullet in his soft spot it took the three of us, the two guides and myself, tugging on it for quite some time to get in on board. At one point I was scared the boat was going to tip over.

Travis Jewell, the owner of Louisiana Gator Hunts, met us with his tractor to get this bad boy out of the boat.

My gator that I patiently waited on measured out around 11 1/2 feet and estimated to be around 625-650 pounds. Our group had a great experience with everyone harvesting and my reality escape ended up with an unexpected outcome with fried Gator Bites in my near future. What a day!! What a hunt!! What a GATOR! 15

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sharply as the drag starts screaming. Hooking into a big Channel cat is thrilling because it might fight for 15 minutes before you land it. The largest Channel cat in Montana is about 30 pounds, but on the Musselshell I generally catch around 20-25 pounders. The best part is that you can fish for them all day and all night long, though the best action is at dusk and dawn.

Plus, who doesn’t love the croaking sound they make out of the water? Channel Catfish sounds are produced during forward fin sweeps called pectoral spine abduction. The ridges on the spine’s base rub against a bone called the cleithrum.

Raisin’ Hell on the Musselshell Kelsey Loper

When you think of catfishing, Montana rarely comes to mind; people often overlook this native species due to the great trout fishing. But if you want to chase giant cats on a muddy river, the Musselshell is the place for you.

The Musselshell River is a 342-mile-long tributary of the Missouri River. Late spring and early summer are the best times to catch Channel Catfish coming up the river.

Fishing can involve a lot of luck, but the right planning and forethought can also make each trip more rewarding and fun.

Before you head out, you want to make sure you pack the right meal for these cats. Bait for these fish range, but smelt and worms have always been my favorite while others prefer hotdogs. The trick, so I have been told, is to soak hot dog pieces in Kool-Aid, a sweet and savory flavor catfish can’t resist like cherry or grape, for a day. Once cast, the Kool-Aid flavor will be taken downstream with the current and lure the catfish to your hook like a scent line.

When you hold a catfish, you can watch one of the pectoral fins sweep forward each time a sound is made. Channel cats are aggressive and persistent, which means they will come back for more even after being hooked once. During one trip, I had a big female on my line and was fighting her for a while until she got my line in some brush underwater and broke it. I was so bummed for not landing such a nice fish, not to mention the tackle I lost. About an hour later, though, my boyfriend hooked into another nice one and noticed it was a fat female. When he went to take the hook out of her mouth, he found my lure and line still in her jaw.

Even after her fight with me, she stuck around and came back for more.

Nothing beats heading home after the end of a great day with a stringer of fish just waiting to be cooked. Catfish are exciting to catch, fun to listen to, and easy to cook. A trick to reduce the fishy taste is to soak the fillets in milk for 30-60 minutes before baking or frying them. I have noticed, too, that smaller 3-pound fish are better to eat rather than the bigger ones. Catfish are exciting to catch, fun to listen to, and easy to cook.

First, though, you need to get out there and catch ‘em. After I get settled and rig up a couple poles, I cast them out so each bait is on the bottom of the river with a sinker. Then, I watch my poles until one gets a tap-tap before bending over

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Let’s get me one.” He told me to get my tag and come down with my boyfriend Brady after the snow. Ty asked what I had for firearms; I listed my .45 pistol, 22-250, 7mm, and my grandma’s 30-30. When he asked if the 30-30 had open sights, I proudly replied, “Yes!” Ty said, “That’s the ideal one; bring it.” I was thrilled to know my first hunt with my grandma’s gun would be a lion.

Day 1: The sun was against us; tracks were melting left and right. Luckily, we found a promising track quickly; Ty put the dogs out, and they went to work. We found drag marks from a freshly killed deer, which indicated the lion was nearby. Naturally, the lion refused to tree since we were in a rocky, vertical, and treacherous location, and the cat could go places the hounds could not. I frequently handed my rifle off to Brady so that I could climb the rocks, not being a mountain goat myself. Not wanting to wear the dogs out, we pulled off the track and sought another. Although we searched for the rest of the day, we only found four more old cat tracks.

As dark approached, I spotted a coyote off the road by some timber and decided to take a shot. I had three bullets in the rifle; I took a 125-yard shot and missed an inch above him.

He ran off, but it was nice firing Grandma’s gun, an inauspicious end to my first day out with the 30-30. The forecast for the rest of the week called for even more sun, and we lost our snow fast. However, the next weekend, as I struggled to recover from a cold, new snow fell, and we decided to try again. Brady and I received the text to head to Wyoming because conditions looked great, so we prepared to hunt in the morning.

Day 2: After this fresh snow, we saw more bobcat than lion tracks. Again, we experienced lots of windshield time with no success and decided to go back out at dawn in a different area.

Day 3: Now, we were bound and determined. After three days in the truck, the radio had started repeating the Tracking a Lion, Inheriting a Legacy same 15 songs over and over, and after hearing “High Kelsey Loper (Revak) Hopes” by Panic! at the Disco 48 times, I dubbed it my official lion hunting song. The wind was against us, but My grandma, Annabelle Revak, passed away on January 10, we put the miles on anyways. After finding six different 2018. She was an outdoor enthusiast who grew up harvesting sets of fresh wolf tracks, we headed to a new area where whitetail deer and taking part in predator control in Northern Wisconsin. She always processed her own meat and canned her we could safely run the dogs. We immediately found a track by another fresh own jelly, never afraid of hard work or adventure. When I inherited her Winchester 94 lever action 30-30 with open sights, kill, a buried doe mule deer.

I knew I needed to use it on an epic hunt. I just never imagined it Ty collared the hounds and reached for the GPS, which refused to start. As it continued to stay stubbornly blank, would be the perfect gun for my once-in-a-lifetime mountain lion hunt. As soon as the snow started flying, my phone started my hopes of running this track began to fade. He changed the battery, nothing happened, and my hopes dimmed. buzzing with photos of cat tracks and treed lions from my Still, Ty decides to turn one dog, Camo, on the track, hunting friend, Ty, in Wyoming. I would reply with texts: “Nice which she followed to the river where the lion crossed. work.

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The lion went straight up a rock cliff, and even though Camo did her job, it was too dangerous for her or us to climb those cliffs. It was getting late in the evening, but I didn’t want to admit defeat. I asked if Ty would have time for one more day of hunting before we had to wait for another snow, and he was up for it. We would return in the morning, with a working GPS, and try for this lion again. Hopefully, it would be near the kill so that we could run it down the river instead of up the cliffs.

Day 4, November 27, 2018: Up early and heading back to the same spot, Brady and Ty went to check for fresh tracks near the kill while I stayed at the truck to get my pack and rifle ready. I zipped open the case and slung my 30-30 over my shoulder. As I took my first step, I felt the stock swing by my leg and thought that the leather sling had broken.

However, when I looked down, I was horrified to see that a screw, the one connecting the stock to the receiver, had come loose. Not only was it loose, it was lost. If it had fallen in the snow, there would be no finding it. I carefully searched the rifle case and truck until the guys returned, not having seen any fresh tracks. With the screw missing and the sign gone cold, my spirits sank once more.

With optimal snow conditions dwindling, we got back in the truck for one last drive up the road. We occasionally hiked up canyons looking to see if a cat crossed farther in only to find fresh grizzly tracks from a bear trying to find one last carcass before hibernation.

While “High Hopes” played for the third time that morning, we turned around to drive out, but suddenly, Brady and I simultaneously spotted cat tracks. Ty checked the track, and even though it was from yesterday, it was impressive; Ty decided to turn Baylor, a female Plott/Black and Tan cross, on it. She took the track like a champ and opened.

We followed her as she crossed the river and headed up a steep rockface. At that point, Ty turned Ruka, a Del Cameron Bluetick female, out with Baylor.

They both scrambled and climbed up ice and rock to continue the chase. Ty cautioned me to prepare for a long all-day race after this cat since the tracks were old and the animal had probably covered a fair distance already. I looked at the canyon and, with an optimistic attitude, suggested that the cat might have just hunkered down right there for the night, 21

staying close. Ty gave me an indulgent smile, doubting it would be that easy and knowing we would likely be pounding the mountains all day. I got my pack and rifle, grasping it with two hands to hold it together without the missing screw. I followed Ty and Brady up a steep snowy ridge, my lingering cold kicking my butt. During early elk season with my bow, I had dominated the mountains, running up them. Today, the mountains were winning, and I was doing my best just to put one foot in front of the other.

Then, Ty said something, and Brady relayed it to me: “Treed.” The best words in the world a houndsman wants to hear. We had barely hiked more than 20 minutes, and the hounds had the lion in a tree. Ty barked at me to “light a fire under it,” so I handed off my rifle, which was slowing me down holding it together, and kicked it up a notch. Brady spotted the lion in a dead tree about 200 yards at the top of the canyon. A glorious sight for any houndsman is a lion chilling in a tree. We slowly made our way to the lion, which perched in the tree calmly taking in everything. Brady instantly started filming while Ty gathered the hounds safely away from the tree and gave me the go ahead. I only had two rounds in the rifle, more in my pocket, so I needed to make my first shot count. I carefully lined the bead in the open sight, kept the stock tight against my shoulder to hold the rifle together, and fired. The cat fell a little but lunged in a death grab, climbed back up the tree, and left me with nothing but a head shot, not one I wanted to attempt with my fragmented rifle. Then, the lion turned to his right, opening up his vitals, and I fired the second and fatal shot.

Ty gave us high fives, and I started crying. Never has anything meant more to me than this hunt. I couldn’t hold it in any longer: the years of making plans that didn’t work, the uncooperative weather, the hard work put into this expedition, the experience hunting with a great friend and boyfriend, and the lion shot with my grandma’s rifle. Tears of joy welled up as everything converged. I pulled myself together to go see my lion, a nice big tom. (Man, there is absolutely no ground shrinkage with cats.)

I notched my tag and started taking pictures. I had always imagined holding a mountain lion like hunters in pictures, holding it aloft with their whole bodies, but what they don’t tell you is how hard it is to get that pose. Initially, Brady and Ty let me try to pick him up by myself since it was 22

my lion. After about 10 minutes of humoring them that I can’t get him by myself, Ty grabbed the lion so that I could get a better hold. Yes! I have my lion, I cheered internally even as I huffed out to Brady, “Quick, take a pic. He’s slipping!”

I won’t lie; it’s easier said than done getting a good full-body lion picture. My tom weighed 138 pounds but looks bigger in the pictures.

At that point, Ruka started looking over her shoulder and growling. Not knowing if wolves or a grizzly might be coming, we decided to head down the mountain and take more pictures at the truck. On the way, we passed a cave where the lion had slept the previous night, his tracks and bed dug into the gravel; he really did cross the river and hunker down for the night. It just goes to show you never know what will happen when it comes to hunting. My grandma would be proud that I used her rifle for predator control and that I didn’t give up.

Just like her whitetails, this lion meat, which is a lot like pork, will make many meals for my family. I am proud to have harvested this majestic animal, proud to continue my grandma’s hunting and providing legacy, proud to be a Hunter.

ASHTYN MEYER

We Eat Sleep and Breath Deer, Chase those Gobbler's, pick those mushrooms and thump those Crappie out of brushpiles! We do what we love the most!!

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consuming, this is my family’s busiest time of year. This is when my husband and I absolutely must be on our A game. We juggle a lot. But we have discovered we’re actually pretty good at it and we love just about every minute of it. I would like to share with you what we do and how we manage having a young family and all of our different hobbies. What works for us absolutely will not work for everyone, but I hope you might see something you can add to your life. I have found that anytime I thought I just “didn’t have time” was really just my own poor time management. People can do and handle a lot more than they are willing to let themselves think they can.

Just like you, we are a pretty busy family. My husband has worked from home for over six years. He is currently in college and I have always homeschooled the kids; ages six, five, and three. I implement different aspects of traditional homeschooling, wildschooling, and unschooling. I am a volunteer diver at the local Aquarium and my husband plays hockey year- round. The two older kids play soccer and we generally go for hikes and nature walks at least a few times a week. We are runners and enjoy yoga and working out multiple times per week. This is a quick rundown of some constants in our lives; this obviously is not everything we do. There are always other endeavors, hobbies, and projects we are pursuing. But we are not that stereotypical family that is so busy we rarely get to eat a meal together.

Finding Time

By Shanna White

Fall is unquestionably the best three whole days here in northeastern Oklahoma. It makes the scorching summers and unpredictable tornadic weather worth it. But don’t forget; it just might rain those three days, too. Maybe throw in an ice storm as well.. But in all seriousness, Fall is absolutely my favorite time of year (isn’t it most everyone’s favorite?). It’s my favorite even if it means changing outfits during the day to match the changing temperatures and it’s my favorite even if I have to use both the A/C and the heater on the same day as well. I am pretty fond of Oklahoma; I was born and raised here. I have to laugh and poke fun at my beautiful state’s crazy oscillating weather. If you know, you know.

Now that October is beginning to wrap up, we are in full swing around here. My family is always up to something (read “lots of somethings”) at every turn of the year. But with the addition of bowhunting for Whitetail from October 1st through January 15th, and considering it’s pretty time 24

We really make family and spending time together as a family a high priority. These tips are written from the perspective of

Bring some snacks, stickers, books, crayons, etc. and you are good to go. Point out any animals you see and let your kid look through your binoculars. If you are feeling extra, give them a lesson on your rangefinder; have them guess distances to trees, rocks and fences and then use the rangefinder to see what the correct distance is. Do not overcomplicate bringing a kid along on a hunt! Make it one of your shorter hunts; we don’t go over two hours when we have a kid with us. Expect that they will not keep perfectly still and quiet (hence, why blinds are the best for kid). And enjoy your time together!

someone who is married and has a young family. Please keep that in mind and adapt what you need to.

Tips to make everything work: Communicate, communicate, and communicate with your spouse. If you are married, you know you have to have a strong marriage to make anything work. My husband is my best friend. We want what is best for one another. Just talk! Talk about everything and make each other a priority. Talk about your goals for the year or season, talk about your battle plans for upcoming events… Just talk about anything and everything. If my husband and I did not constantly check in with each other and keep each other in the loop, life would be pretty difficult to manage.

Being on the same page with your spouse is the foundation for life running smoothly. Bring a kid if you can. This year we are very fortunate to be able to hunt at a second location and it is perfect for a ground blind. Whenever I or my husband go on an evening hunt at the blind, we generally will bring either the five or six-year-old with us (our three-year-old isn’t quite ready yet!). This is for a few reasons. First, the kids actually want to go on hunts with us (they’re still young enough to think we are cool). Second, it presents an easy opportunity for a parent and child to have quality one-on-one time. And third, by bringing a kid along, it makes it just a little less chaotic for the parent doing dinner and bedtime alone at home with the other two.

Schedule everything and keep a To-Do list. There is a good chance you’re already doing this - Keep it up! Even write down the tentatives and maybes so you don’t overwhelm yourself trying to remember everything. Keep it flexible because life happens! Soccer games get rescheduled and sometimes you have to drop your vehicle off at the mechanic for a couple of days for some surprise repairs. But I try to get everything down on paper that I can, even what days my husband is wanting to hunt and the days I want to hunt, too. It also helps to schedule if we are hunting at the tree stand or the blind, because we can see if we can bring one of the kids along. We definitely keep it flexible because the weather is constantly changing and that can affect what days we hunt. It helps to be able to look at a calendar and see everything all at once.

Slow cooker meals, soups, and casseroles. Classics for this time of year, anyway!

But meals like these usually make enough to have leftovers for dinner the next night. It is a lot easier to get out of the house for an evening hunt when I don’t have to worry about what my family will do for dinner. Heck, I like leftovers all year round! Which brings me to my next point… Plan your meals. Do not fall into the trap of eating out because it’s easier and more convenient. It’s too expensive and it’s generally not healthy. Plus, I cannot save up for new camo if I keep eating my money. I sit down once a week after the kids go to bed and plan all meals for the following week. I plan daily meals based on what’s going on that day, too.

For example, I’m not grilling out burgers on soccer nights.

No, that’s a slow cooker day so dinner is ready right after soccer. If I know I am going on an evening hunt on Saturday, then Friday I am going to make something that will be enough to last through dinner the next day. I also try to plan one meal per week for salmon, so that’s usually a night we are staying in.

I just try to make the meals make sense for whatever day they’re planned on.

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Eat healthy. I know, obvious. But it really does make a difference. So I had to throw this one in there. I have more energy when I eat healthy versus not and so will you. Also, while I’m stating the obvious, make sure you get your exercise because that will increase your energy, too. Grocery pickup is a lifesaver! Do I even need to state how amazing this is? I get groceries the day after I do meal planning and I always try to do grocery pickup.

It saves so much time; I love it! And it’s nice because I don’t have to drag my poor kids all over the store. I will forever be a fan of grocery pickup. Turn the TV off. You don’t need it. It’s probably a waste of time. TV isn’t always bad, but the TV always on is very bad. Most of your evenings should be spent doing just about anything else. You will be more productive, and your mental health will thank you.

Be selective of the days that you hunt. For me, this means that 85% of the times that I hunt are evenings only. This is because I have a morning routine set with the kids during the work week that really just has to happen in order for the day to start on the right foot and run smoothly. If I’m gone for a morning one day and an evening the other and this pattern continues, things just sort of slowly get chaotic; it’s more difficult to get slow cooker meals going and start doing school activities with the kids on time. It works easier for us when my husband takes most of the morning hunts and I take most of the evening hunts. We have our routines that work. We don’t really have the option of babysitters. So all of our hunts are solo hunts unless there is some rare occurrence. We are good at handling and planning everything.

This all probably seems really obvious and easy, and it is! But it’s scary how easy it can be to stop doing these things. Keep working hard and work as a team with your partner. When all of these things are done simultaneously, you can have time for everything, including family movie and game nights. Sometimes things can get tricky to juggle, but it’s always doable and can be fun to make everything come together. Life is like a time puzzle, just figuring out where all the pieces fit.

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COWHORSE

Author, Savannah McCann A woman cattle rancher and her young children get caught in a severe thunderstorm when she decides to pick them up from their school bus on horseback. Montana is beautiful but dangerous, and Maggie learns just how dangerous.

A rainstorm that formed out of the West quickly starts pouring down on Maggie and the horses while she waits for her children's school bus to arrive, which seems like the minutes are turning to hours; as she shivers, cold and wet. Her mare sends a deep shiver through her own body, too, as the freezing rain soaks her and the chill of the wind whips over them. The ponies are trying to shield themselves from the storm, but they too are drenched from the downpour.

The storm wasn't supposed to hit so quickly. Maggie figured they had time to ride their horses home before the first drop fell and hit the dirt road and before the lightning starts lighting up the sky and thunder starts rolling; unfortunately, she was wrong and should have checked the weather report one more time before leaving home.

Maggie's chilled to the bone and swears she can feel pneumonia already forming in her chest. She wished she had worn more under her raincoat than just a t-shirt and is kicking herself because she knows better! Maggie's hoping at least the children's saddles will be dry or somewhat dry after Maggie spreads the raincoats over them to protect them from getting soaked by the rain before it really started raining hard. She sees the bus coming up the road with water pouring down in front of the headlights under the darkened storm cloud-filled sky.

The children hop off of the bus; Olivia is excited that she gets to ride her horse in the rain; Sam, Maggie's 10-year-old son, is not amused at this predicament he finds himself in with having to ride his horse in the pouring rain. Maggie instructs them to hurry and put on their rain gear to get completely soaked. The children listen to their mother; they put their rain gear on over their backpacks climbed on their horses. Her son Sam complained that his saddle seat is wet and makes his hind end cold and wants to move home.

Maggie just chuckles because Sam isn't too much about the horses, not like her 8-year-old daughter Olivia; she is all about horses from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet!

After they are all in their saddles and ready to head home, Maggie hollers to their dog Jasper, "hup! come on, boy!" Jasper runs to the front of the pack and turns to make sure his family follows as they should be. Maggie sees the lightning flash and hears the thunder rolling in the distance over the area of the ranch house. She looks around and sees that the trees are starting to sway more as the wind is picking up; she knows it's time to get her kids home and safe before they are really caught in this storm that is brewing under the Southern Montana sky.

She stops her mare and turns to her children and tells them that she will lead and they will stay at a steady canter, but they need to get home quickly. Olivia is excited about this fun rainy day adventure that she is sure not to forget any time soon, but Sam, on the other hand, is annoyed by the situation he is in and just wants to get home and get off this doggone horse. "Maggie says, on your mark, ready, set, go!" They all start out trotting the horses until they are in a canter. Maggie's mare is throwing mud off her shoes into the air and hitting the riders behind her. Sam is getting irritated with the earth flying in his face, so he passes his little sister, and after racing around her, he looks back she's covered in mud; her yellow raincoat is brown and yellow. He chuckles to himself. Any time Sam

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can irritate his sister, he obliges the opportunity.

collect herself enough to get out of the way of danger. She prays to God

They canter the horses up the 3-mile driveway to their cattle

to let her get to her gun. Jasper is between her and the mountain lion, growling, letting the mountain lion know that he will not back down from

ranch ride to the barn. After climbing off the horses, they turn them into the paddock. Maggie instructs the kids to take off their muddy coats and boots in the mudroom, go into the house, wash their faces, change into dry, warm clothes, and sit by the fireplace until she gets into the house they can shower. They both agree and run for the back door of the place where the mudroom is. Maggie couldn't help but laugh at how muddy they both are.

The rain is coming down even harder now, and visibility isn't the best. Maggie leads Olivia's pony Poppy into the barn's aisle to remove her tack and turn her into a stall. After she's in her stall, she closes the stall door and then throws her some hay. She heads back out for Sam's pony named Buster, grabs him by the reins, leads him into the barn, removes his tack, and puts him in a stall, giving him his evening hay. Jasper, their Blue healer, comes running into the barn, acting nervous and getting Maggie's attention.

Maggie walks out of the barn but can't see anything, even though now Jasper is really barking. The rain is coming down even hard, and the lighting striking overhead; she knows that she needs to hurry and get her cow horse, Aphrodite, into the barn quickly!

Maggie walks into the paddock to catch her mare and sees her running around, swinging her head and stomping. Jasper starts really growling and lets out a couple of short, vicious barks. Maggie looks around and then finally sees through the pouring rain and wind what Jasper is warning her about; just under the tree line in a crouched position about 20 feet from the paddock is a mountain lion. Maggie's heart starts to pound hard. Jasper is growling more and more and lets out a few more warning barks to the lion. Maggie sees the lion is inching closer to her out from under the trees' protection; it is standing in the pouring rain. Maggie needs to get to her scabbard on her horse to get her rifle.

Lightning lit up the dark sky, almost a blinding bright, and the lion took its chance for Maggie! Maggie runs to her horse and slips in the mud, and slides under her mare! Aphrodite rears and stomps back down, swinging her head and snorting at the lion. As the mare came down, one of her hooves lands on Maggie's elbow. Maggie grabs her elbow, tries to pull herself with one arm out from under her horse when Aphrodite rears up again, warning the lion. This time her hooves hit the ground; the metal tie-down ring on the cinch hits Maggie on the top of her forehead just over her left eye, causing blood to roll down her face into her eye and drips off her chin. The hit on the forehead knocked Maggie dizzy. She is trying to 30

this fight.

The lion is staring at Maggie; it can smell her blood and is now less than 10 feet away from getting inside the paddock. Maggie can't understand why the lion is trying to come after them. Again, Maggie tries to get up and gets herself turned over onto her hands and knees. The blood is really flowing out of her forehead and down her face; Maggie takes one of her muddy hands, wipes it on her jeans, and then the blood from her face so she can try to see. As Maggie is getting up, she sees it‌. she sees why the lion is coming after her so intently.

Suddenly, Maggie gets a burst of energy and some traction getting to her feet! She turns to her horse that is still swinging her head and snorting and rears again. Maggie grabs her reins, pulling her horse down, and then reaches for the butt of the rifle; her hands are muddy and slick and slip off of the gun, and she falls again, this time catching herself by hanging on the side of her mare by the scabbard. Maggie pulls herself up, and with all of her might, she yanks the lever-action rifle out of the scabbard; she loads a bullet into the chamber. Maggie slips in the mud; after all the commotion trying to get her rifle, she sees that the lion is inside the paddock with Maggie trying to make her way back to the newborn calf that she had killed while Maggie was riding to meet her kids.

Aphrodite runs around Maggie after the lion stomping towards the lion and snorting and letting out loud whinnies. Her paint mare once again stomps at the lion to keep the lion from the dead newborn calf and warn the lion of the consequence if she keeps coming. Without warning, the lion lunged at Aphrodite, letting out a loud scream! A shot rings out through the ranch, and the lion falls dead to the muddy ground.

Maggie's emotions are running overtime; she lowers the rifle, and she walks to her cow horse, that is now standing beside the dead calf that's lying in the pouring rain and mud. Her head lowered, continuing to protect him; Maggie sees the calf she had placed in the adjoining paddock after finding his mother had passed away during birth that afternoon. Maggie had planned to put the calf with a nursing cow after picking up her children from the bus. She laid her head on the side of Aphrodite's withers and whispered, thank you, as tears filled her eyes; she grasped that her mare risked her own life to protect the ranch calf, just as Maggie had trained her to do.

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Larger than life! Angles are everything. Sometimes they are accurate and sometimes not. It’s incredible how massive this moose was in person, yet this photo lacked representation.

Nonetheless , it’s a favorite capture. I never really like to “pose” for photos and I feel awkward. I wasn’t ready for this photo and that’s why it’s a favorite! Here is a great example of how I truly feel in moments like this.

My 2019 Saskatchewan Canada Bull Moose 2019. Guided by @brcohunts

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very little experience driving off road. The day before we were to head home, we rolled our truck. He tried to make a turn too fast and we ended up upside down. Fortunately the Good Lord was watching over us and we Twenty-nine years ago I married a hunter, my high school sweetheart. We both crawled out without a scratch. The tires of our truck pointed upward as we sat there on the ground stunned. With the help of his cousin, ( who married right out of high school at the tender age of 18. It has been an was also there turkey hunting and camping next to us,) his cousins two amazing journey. Did I know he was hunter when I married him. Sure, I friends, and a fellow passing by, we were able to roll our truck tires back knew he liked hunting but I never knew how serious, intense and even contagious it could be. I was quickly introduced to a whole new world-"his onto the ground. The body of the truck had very little damage. The camper shell was smashed beyond repair, and the windshield was world, the Hunters World". shattered. It could have been so much worse. Of course when my Being married to a hunter means you do things differently. Including your husband saw his shotgun he wasn't concerned about the truck. I guess that might be rule #2.The guns of a hunter are very important and may honeymoon. Where does the hunter go for his honeymoon? Hunting of take priority over many other things. Somewhere along the way in the course! crash, the gun barrel had found it's way out the window and ended up bent at about a 45* angle. When someone mentioned shooting around The wedding itself was actually your normal affair. Dress, cake, flowers, and even got him in a tux. Have no idea how we got him to agree to that. corners with it, he was not amused.

Anyway, since we had an evening wedding, the plan was to head to the mountains the following morning. Rule #1 when married to a hunter-Plans Our time in the mountains was over and it was time for us to go home. can change at anytime and should not come as a surprise when they do. We cleaned out all the broken pieces of the wind shield and headed home. If you've never driven 70mph on a freeway with no windshield, you After the wedding we went to the apartment we would be calling home for don't know what you're missing. Bugs smacking you in the face, eyes watering- a truly unforgettable experience. our first year together. After the normal wedding night activities my dear

THE HUNTERS WORLD

husband announced that he couldn't sleep so we should just leave town now. At 1:00am?!! Okay, welcome to his world. So we packed up and left for our 3 day deer hunt/honeymoon. At 3:30am we find ourselves an a rough, rocky road stuck on something. 4wd won't get us out and with little light, it is hard to see what needs to be done so my husband calls it quits for the night. I gratefully crawl into the back end of our pickup truck, with it's little camper shell and mattress, and quickly fall asleep. Unfortunately though, morning comes very early in his world. Morning sheds light on our situation and we were soon able to get on our way.

Well, 29 yrs has gone by and I am no longer a stranger in his world. I have made myself at home here. I have found myself nearly frozen as I sit next to him calling coyotes on an early winter morning and I am the one holding the gun. He was by my side when I took my first deer with a bow. He grinned as he listened to me tell the story of my hunt to anyone who would listen. He was a couple of hills over when I killed my next two deer with a bow but he hurried over to help me drag them out. I have since had successful deer hunts with muzzleloader and rifle. I've taken turkey, elk, antelope, and javelina. All with my "hunter" by my side.

Our 3 day hunt comes to an end and though we didn't get a deer I had begun to see what makes this man tick. I had never spent so much time in the woods and the beauty is almost overwhelming. The cool crispness of the morning makes you thankful to be alive. The morning sun peeking over the mountains through the trees, brings anticipation for what the day may bring.

While being married to hunter does give you access to a wonderful world, it does have a couple of downsides. Such as he can remember when and where he has killed every single deer and turkey,(yours too), but can't remember where the coffee filters are kept. He knows every season opening and closing date, but has to to be reminded about birthdays and anniversaries. You get the idea. But I believe the good far out weighs the We head back home, but the honeymoon is not over yet. We now have a bad. There is something so peaceful about sitting in a mountain meadow watching deer feed in the early morning light. The birds are singing, the 3 day turkey hunt/honeymoon combo. This hunt took place on the opposite of the state as our deer hunt. We got home and actually spent a dew is glistening on the leaves, and at that moment in time, all is right in the world. I became a part of this world the day I got married. I can only whole night in our home. We took showers, restocked our food and pray that it will always be here and I will never have to leave it. If you are clothing supplies, and headed back out. a part of the Hunters World, share it with someone. Show them what they are missing. Pass it on to the kids in your life. Let them get to know your This half of our honeymoon opened my eyes even wider to this world of world and they will make it their world too. his. I had never seen a wild turkey before and here were 5 of them feeding in the early morning light. My husband shot one and for the first Melissa Thomastime I examine a turkey beard, spurs, and the different colors of the feathers as the sun shines on them. Our honeymoon took place in the month of Sept and the elk were beginning to rut. My ears perked up, as for the first time I heard the call of the majestic bull elk. I had heard one and now I longed to see one. We began the search and I smiled with wonder as my husband pointed to the top of a mountain where I got a glimpse of the bull elk moving through the trees.

Melissa Thomas and her husband are currently making custom fishing tackle. You can find them at www.thomascustomlures.com

But as we all know, all good things must come to an end. It was almost time for us to go home, so now I must tell you that not all went well in those final days of our trip. As I mentioned earlier, my husband and I were both 18. He had only had his drivers license for a few months and had

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Every year the anticipation of deer season gets us all excited. BUT this year my 7-year-old daughter Elaina made it even more so.

She worked along side her daddy and I all summer in hopes of harvesting a 9-point buck she named Scooby. From minerals, food plots, running trail cameras and building an elevated blind. She proved to be both passionate and serious about taking this buck.

I too was focused on a dandy 8 point that we equally had put the work into to achieve early season success.

We had history with this buck, and he had heavy mass with a unique rack.

As the days went by so did our chatter

about how awesome it would be if we both got our bucks not only on the same day but opening day. We were both pumped to go after Scooby and Aftermath. So, we made our plans for opening day. She would go to her blind with her daddy and I would go to mine. We would keep each other updated via text messages of our deer activity.

As promised, she texted me that she was covered up with deer. She had does filter in not long after they were settled into their blind. I too had activity with a few does and a couple 1 and 2-year-old bucks.

Settled into our blinds, knowing that we 35

had done the work, we had put the time in, we had studied these bucks, we knew their patterns. It had all come down to this. That last hour of daylight. It was crunch time.

I had 2 does in front of me and they were acting flighty, they were telling me that a buck was near. A smaller buck had sensed it too and had left a few minutes earlier. About that time, my phone buzzed. It was from my girl. She did it!! She had arrowed her Scooby. Though I was ALL smiles and eager to call her and to hear EVERY detail. I could not. I could hear a deer coming from my left.

I cannot explain it, but I knew.

I just had that feeling it was him. My Aftermath was about to walk into my shooting lane. Sure, enough it was him. He could not have given me a more perfect shot opportunity. I gathered my nerves, slowed my breathing, settled my pin and slowly squeezed my release. I saw the arrow connect; I saw the buck rear his back legs indicating a definite hit.

Upon hearing him crash, I sent the text that I had just shot Aftermath.

My phone buzzed almost immediately. It was my Elaina Mae; she was thrilled and had been begging her daddy to call me. We did it!

We doubled on opening day! It was an epic moment. One for the memory book and one that I truly cherish.

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Epic Ladies Cow Elk Pack Trip Oct. 2019 Organized by The Sisterhood of The Outdoors Hosted by Boulder Basin Outfitters Cody, WY

By Victoria Tavares

I suppose every EPIC hunt story starts with the reason one decides to go on such a hunt. I started hunting 7 years ago at the age of 45, white tail deer, someone’s back woods, rifle. To say the least my hunting views, style, and desires have changed over the past 7 years and, like most people, I wanted more. Enter the Sisterhood of The Outdoors. While I was in North Dakota last winter I stumble across the Facebook group, through another group. I looked at the different hunts, read through some posts, and did this over and over. The EPIC Ladies Cow Elk Pack Trip kept catching my attention: Wyoming, Horseback, rifle, ladies only, time to save for the trip, time to prep. DONE! Deposit sent and the ball started rolling.

This EPIC hunt had been in the works since Feb. 2019 and it's now Oct. 2019 and I still had fears that plagued me. I had purchased a brand new Remington .270 rifle for this hunt and up until a week before the hunt I was still unable to get that rifle zeroed at 100 yards, regardless of ammo, the rifle had nothing consistent about its ability to hit paper. Not being new to rifles, but this rifle set-up being new to me, it was quiet possibly operator error. A friend offered to meet me at a gun range, bring a tried and trusted 30-06 rifle option and a lead sled. I ended up taking that 30-06 on this hunt, huge stressor overcome.

As I counted down the days to flying out to Cody, Wyoming on my final day I put into writing my greatest fears still surrounding the hunt: * My physical endurance. I had snowboarded Breckenridge two years ago so I was familiar with the effects of altitude for me-headaches and breathlessness. Ibuprofen was going to be a must * Missing a shot/having a bad shot causing additional work or possibly not finding an injured elk * Bear attack-in general or while harvesting/butchering an elk * Not taking a long-distance shot because of self-doubt * Not being able to sleep

Now if you haven’t been to Wyoming, you need to just GO! If you have been to Wyoming then you might understand how a 14 year old girl fell in love with the state when she visited the Grand Tetons and Lake Jenny! And that being said, there is something about Cody, Wyoming, possibly its Ol’ West feel or the proximity to Yellowstone National Park. Whatever your reason, Cody feels like America should, to me.

Day one. My flight from Philadelphia to Cody was completely uneventful and my ride, Jen, picked me up from the airport. Now Jen and I had become Facebook friends through the Sisterhood of The Outdoors Cow Elk hunt group page. Jen in herself has a story but that is her’s to tell but let’s just say, she’s lucky to be alive and her words not mine, “hunting saved me”.

So to say meeting Jen finally after all the months of stress over my rifle and understanding where she started and is standing today, I’m in awe and ready for our EPIC adventure together.

Night one. Buffalo Bill’s Irma Hotel, built in 1902. The Irma also houses a restaurant and bar which is frequented by locals and travelers like us.

Let’s just say, I got to dance with a real cowboy, Justin, who ends up being my guide for the hunt. It was fun meeting a couple of the girls on the hunt, there were 4 of us in all that night, Tara, Sarah, Jen, and myself. We were all 39

strangers to each other but one common goal, have an EPIC Ladies Cow Elk trip and harvest an elk.

Day two. We had planned on going to a rifle range to make any necessary rifle/scope adjustments once the last two girls arrived. We headed out to a small, one target range in the middle of some state game lands outside Cody. One of the ladies had brought a rifle she needed to work with so I let her work all while mentally struggling with my rifle concerns at a different altitude with ammunition that I’d never fired through the 30-06 that replaced my .270.

Night two. Elk burger for dinner at the Irma and early to bed because tomorrow morning we head to the trailhead to begin the EPIC part of this trip.

Day three. Morning. I was dressed and packed and having breakfast as the other’s strolled in. Thankfully I had slept well. If I said it was cold outside at the end of October there in Cody, many of you wouldn’t comprehend that cold. Low temperatures and cold winds, exactly what Wyoming is know for. We packed out gear, double checked we each had all our gear, and double checked again. We drove out to meet Carl and the others from Boulder Basin Outfitters. That’s Tucker on that flat bed and part of the crew.

It was a good hours travel to the trailhead and along the way I was awestruck by the view of the Shoshone River which I had fished briefly a year prior.

When I say we saw herds of hundreds of mule deer, some elk, and some whitetail, I’m not exaggerating! At the trailhead the rest of the crew is hard at work prepping horse and mules and camp gear.

It’s now late morning and we are all saddled up and on our horses, I’m riding Poker Face who has one blue eye and one brown and the 3.5 hour trail ride up to camp at 8,500 feet begins. Poker Face was no where near as excited as I was to begin this journey, probably to conserve energy. I couldn’t help but be a bit anxious as Poker Face trekked up and traversed the numerous steep switchbacks up the mountain. I’ve ridden trail horses before but these equestrian beauties were far superior in their abilities than anything I’d ever experienced. That being said, this trip did not require you to be an experienced rider and that was completely true as 3 of the ladies had never ridden before and had zero issues during the entire trip. As we continue up the mountain I realized that this mode of transportation was exactly how early settlers and hunters got around. We were fortunate to see this group of rams pictured here along our journey.

Day three. Afternoon. We arrive at the creek just outside camp and let the horses drink. And as the theme continues, I’m in awe of the view around me.

We are oriented to camp, the out house, logistics of camp, and our sleeping quarters for the next three nights. We had two cots, gas lamp, wood stove, and a dirt floor, priceless! We are all excited to drop our gear and head out into the Wyoming wilderness with our bear spray of course.

My hunting partner, Mele, experienced hunter without any success of a harvest to date and a know altitude sickness sufferer. Our guide, my dancing cowboy, Justin. Our location for the afternoon was on an elevated ridge with an amazing 360 degree view. There is no picture of this view as it was so cold and windy, I could not bring myself to take out my phone to snap a picture. We all glassed the area and I spotted two orange dots, another third of our hunting group. I spotted two elk in their general area but unfortunately logistics weren’t in favor of them being able to approach the small group of elk.

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Radio silence was broken. Carl was advising that his hunting group, Sarah and Tara, was watching a migrating herd of about 300 elk coming up the “elevator” and they were going to get into position to shoot. We all sat there on the ridge, in that cold wind, waiting for more info. How exciting! Then BANG! Justin asked if we wanted to wait out the last light or consider heading down shortly to possibly see if the shots had separated a small group out of the larger herd. Mele was cold and ready to go, I was ambivalent. We continued to glass and BANG, another shot fired. By now I’m super excited and sure someone, or both, has harvested an elk. The sun was starting to descend deeper and darkness was edging into the Wyoming wilderness. It was time to head back to camp.

Now I love a good trail ride but I’ve never done one in the dark wilderness so I kept my bear spray close but was reassured that a bear wouldn’t attack with us on the horses. Um, OK?! We walked our trusty steeds down the steep bank they had brought us up and it was quickly evident that my partner was struggling keeping up. As a nurse, you notice the little things, and I noticed she didn’t look great. I motioned to Justin to slow down and she regained some energy and we mounted our horses.

Day one was coming to a close as we arrived back at camp, dismounted our horses, and dropped our gear off. As we settled in the mess tent warming up, BANG! Then BANG! Then a radio call from Carl confirming two elk down and the request to bring some pack mules and for the other two guides to help. Mele and I settled in. I knew I needed water and Ibuprofen to combat my altitude issues so I inquired as to where to get water. Pictured here is our water source, straight from the creek, no Life Straw needed. Have I mentioned how I love Wyoming.

Day one. Night. Jen and Ellen, my orange dots from earlier, are now back at camp but it’s beginning to feel like eternity while we wait on Sarah and Tara and the guides. I knew that bear attacks were extremely likely at night with fresh meat down but then suddenly, cow bells! They are placed on the corralled mules and horses to alert camp but this time it meant that the group was back. I couldn’t contain my excitement for them and confirmation that this EPIC trip was definitely off to an amazing start with two tagged elk in less than 6 hours of arrival at camp. The elk was hung up on the bear rack and we adjourned to the mess tent to eat some amazing camp food by Kate. And I eagerly listened to them each tell their stories about their successful harvests.

Day one. Bedtime. I dreaded this part, knowing full well I wouldn’t sleep. It was exciting to see a fire in the stove and the lamp on, our guides work. We were informed we’d get a wake up call at 5 am with plans of heading out by 6ish. I settled into my “coffin” style sleeping bag, warm up to my neck, and struggled with the zipper and getting comfortable. The fire dwindled and I lay awake, tired and excited. If I slept at all it couldn’t have been for long.

Day two. Morning. Justin promptly arrived in our tent, lit the lantern and stove-HEAT is so underrated! I’m excited and dressed and in the mess tent for coffee and more fire. The plan will be for us to head out to the area where the migration herd had been seen the night before.

We geared and saddled up, this time with Carl also. It was still dark but no worries, these horses/mules had our travel needs mastered.

The trail up was pretty steep and as it started to open up and level off, the Wyoming sunrise also showed up. Suddenly, the team

stopped, glassed the area, and dismounted, I followed the leader. It was still too dark to shoot but there was a heard of about 40 elk and we were going to get into position. We approached a rock wall which was the perfect height for shooting and only a 100 yard shot. Our instructions, once you both have an elk in your crosshairs-1,2,3 shoot. As easy as that sounds, it’s not. Animals move and in the mix of this herd were bulls, spikes, and calves, some still nursing. So what seemed like forever finally Mele and I were both ready to shoot- BANG! CLICK!. My safety leveler was not fully disengaged, operator error or just frozen. There’s a pretty good chance my partner hit her mark and an elk is down. The herd moved.

Then we did some hustling, at least that’s what I was trying to do but that altitude can slow you down. Back on our horses, up the ridge, there’s the herd. Breathlessness. Dismount. I’m told to use Carl’s shoulder to stabilize my rifle and shoot from there. Well, the Wyoming wind was unbelievable up there on that mountain ridge and was pushing me, my rifle, and that shoulder all over. I announced I cannot take a shot in those circumstances. He points at a small rock and tells me the plan. He lays over the rock and says to take the shot from there. Cow elk in my crosshairs, CLICK! Seriously?! At this point I’m sure Carl is thinking I have no clue what the heck I’m doing with my rifle. He gives it the once over and positions himself again. BANG! I’m pretty sure I shot high, herd clusters but doesn’t move from their feeding ground this time, whew.

We wait and nothing is spotted as downed. I explain my shot was at an elk in the middle of the herd because it was broadside and had two bulls on each side. The herd loosens and a cow moves to the left in front of the herd, this time, I’m told not to flinch. Again, Carl’s back and prone. BANG! And I watch that huge cow elk’s body move as if the bullet went right through her. She didn’t drop but did move into the herd then out of site. Justin and I were sure that was a direct hit but Carl not so much. We waited a few minutes and the herd moved off.

Carl advises he is going to try an locate my partner’s elk and see if mine went down too. Radio call is that one elk was found, most likely my partners. I was sad and disappointed. My fears were becoming reality: waves of altitude sickness, rifle issues causing unnecessary wasted time, and now possibly a bad shot. Radio call, TWO ELK! We do a quick relief celebration and head down to make thanks for our harvest.

And there she is, halfway down the hill. And my partner’s is stuck in one of the sole trees there, which was probably a good things since this area had a serious grade down to the bottom. I kneel and give thanks to the magnificent creature for her sacrifice and I promise to honor her every time she is served at a meal. My partner also gives thanks and we do our best to participate in the butchering while keeping watch for bears.

Carl makes the butchering look so easy and as I’m handed one of my quarters to move out of the way and I realize I can barely lift it off the ground. I’m thinking 50 pounds, but they say more like 75 pounds. Back straps and tenderloins out. Next elk, quick butchering. We started our hunt around 7:30 am and it was 9:30 when the elk was done being butchered. The elk meat was packed onto the horses and mule. Justin went to wrangle the horses that were out in the range and we began our walk back to camp with Carl as it started to snow.

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I can’t say what happens to everyone else during their hunts but for me, I was overwhelmed with various emotions. It was snowing and I was leading a horse with elk meat I had just harvested back to camp in the Wyoming wilderness. Bears, cowboys, camp, breathlessness, excited, safety failure. It was an hour back to camp, so tons of time for thinking.

Back at camp we were greeted by the previous night’s harvesters and we dropped our gear at our tent. Mele and I had a quick moment were we looked at each other and basically said how grateful we were and how lucky we had gotten to harvest early and at close range. It was over, we TAGGED OUT! We hustled to the bear pole to complete our experience. Watching Carl work is nothing short of amazing and his many years of experience shows. Quarters went into game bags and up they went, all 8 of them, we each helped. My partner’s request was for her cow elk’s head to also join her at home, it was hoisted up too, all safely away from bears.

Day two. Breakfast. Kate, the camp cook, needs her own TV show.

Some may say it was just because we were cold and hungry but I’m here to say, Kate’s camp food was nothing short of amazing. I’m not sure if she is selftaught or Carl played a hand in her abilities to cook but anyone that can raise bread at that altitude and cook with wood gets major kudos from me. The final third of the hunting teams is back at camp now too and we share our stories together. Group 3, Jen and Ellen, did actually take a few shots but missed at far distances. It’s still snowing and beautiful.

Day two. Afternoon. Group 3 is heading back out, I am sure to be out and send them on their way. I’m envious that they are still getting to go out and ride their horses and hunt and explore the wilderness. I’m at camp, tired and excited to share with my friend, the gun loaner, that the rifle I used did it’s job.

Day two. Evening. Group 3 is back and looking tired. I encourage them both to eat and drink, one especially is looking more weary than I’d like, that’s the nurse in me. I provided Ibuprofen to whomever wanted it. I can’t remember what Kate made for dinner but I know it was amazing and she always made a dessert-cake, berry cobbler, brownies. Girl has skills!

Day two. Bedtime. Not a fan. I’m exhausted and determined to figure this sleeping bag and cold situation out. Fire going, hand warmers in my bag, hat on my head. Snuggled in. Nope, not a wink of sleep.

Day three. Morning. No lamp lighting, no fire started in the tent. I finally hear voices and I’m up and out to that mess tent to warm up and make sure I do not miss sending group #3 off into the wilderness. It has stopped snowing at camp with at least 6 inches of new snowfall. It’s cold outside. No one is up but me and the camp crew, of course. And I’m thinking how on earth can anyone sleep like this? I curl up by the back stove and relax. Group 3 meanders in ready to go at it again. I watch them ride out into the wilderness again, sending harvesting good wishes along with them. I’m sad and happy at the same time.

Day three. Breakfast. Group 3 is back still with two tags. They are exhausted. They tell about their morning on the ridge where their guide started a fire while they waited out the fog.

Day three. Afternoon. We send off group 3 again into the Wyoming wilderness. The rest of us relax at camp. Take some pictures of the scenery and 42

the bear pole again. This article really isn’t about group 3, and they really should write about their own story, but they didn’t have it the easiest either. They did get to see and experience some of the Wyoming wilderness that I did not, I was envious.

Day three. Evening. I was getting hungry and worried about group 3. We hadn’t heard any radio chatter. I thought I had heard a rifle shot far off but no confirmation either. It was getting super late then finally Justin asked if we are going to go great the returning ladies? Well of course we are, we always do.

I thought it was weird but got out there, helped gather some gear and Jen asks if someone can put her rifle in her tent so she can help put her meat up the bear pole. We were all blindsided!

There was no evidence of quarters as we had become accustomed too, hanging off the horse. Her quarters were neatly tucked inside pack bags.

Jen, my Facebook friend, could write her own story about her personal journey that got her to the mountain top camp in the Wyoming wilderness but this article isn’t about her either, but her impact on me and my success for this hunt is. When someone tells you that they think learning to hunt “saved them” you listen to what they have to say because I truly feel the same way, hunting has saved me. Not exactly in the same reference as my friend Jen’s but saved me just the same.

It’s mess tent time and dinner. Some cheers and toasts conclude the night. Tonight the camp crew is sleeping in the mess tent because tomorrow afternoon we head back down the mountain. And this makes me sad and excited, the ongoing mixed emotions I have had this trip are unbelievable.

Day three. Night. Mele and I discuss the fire situation because it is going to be the coldest night yet. We agree to do our best to keep that fire going but as with previous nights, it went out. This night, I know I slept but not for long.

Day four. Morning. As I have every morning, I’m up and in the mess tent for warmth and Cowboy Coffee. I’m exhausted and looking forward to heading back to The Irma to sleep. But there is one final lady who needs to tag out and she has decided to make that one last go of it, I’m impressed. Ellen, another lady who could write her own story, is suffering from altitude issues for sure, could hardly eat and was very tired. I send her off into the Wyoming wilderness with her guide.

The rest of us are packing our gear and piling it up so the crew can pack it on the mules. Carl, Justin, and Kate make all this look easy but I know it is not. The job they do, you have to love it. It’s cold, it’s hard work, and it’s close quarters. Even though I told them thank you many times, I hope they really believe how much I appreciate them and what they do. On that note, please make sure you plan on tipping any guides for any services, regardless of your ability to harvest, they still work really hard and are in no control over the wildlife you are in search of.

Day four. Breakfast. It’s a breakfast burrito morning and as always Kate’s the rockstar. Ellen is back, tag in hand. Poker Face and Sante’ Fe, another horse, get into a tiff, Poker Face looses with a kick to the face. Even the horses are ready to leave this beautiful mountain top.

Day four. Afternoon. The trail ride begins and reality is that the EPIC Ladies Cow Elk trip is almost over. One night’s sleep at The Irma and I fly back to Philadelphia. Poker Face and the other horses made quick travel down the mountain but most of the time we had to lead them due to the steep trails. Since there was so much fresh snow we saw all kinds of animal tracks: wolf, bear, and elk.

Back at the trailhead the crew works its magic, our gear is piled up, we load up our vehicles. It’s over, just like that. The elk quarters are set out, those are also loaded into vehicles. Since I’m flying I have to take my meat to a processor and it’s almost 4 pm with a winter storm rolling in. Jen and I head over and drop our harvests off. I had already decided prior to dropping the elk off that I will never fly again to a hunt, I will drive and bring my harvest home with me.

Day four. Evening. Back at Buffalo Bill’s The Irma Hotel it’s hot showers and clean clothes for all. I’m thrilled to have my SWAG bag longsleeved Sisterhood of The Outdoors shirt. It’s dinner and off to bed for a good night’s sleep.

Day five. Morning. It’s a different morning, I’m warm and slept well. I’m up and ready for Cowboy coffee and a breakfast by Kate that isn’t going to happen so I settle for an Irma breakfast and coffee. I have an early flight, check in with my ride Jen, who joins me at breakfast along with Tara.

Jen and I chat on the ride to the Cody airport, we say our goodbyes. At the check-in counter I’m informed that the winter storm that hit Denver yesterday has delayed flights that my flight is delayed.

Additionally, I will miss my connection in Denver to Philadelphia. My only real option is to fly to Denver, layover, fly to San Francisco, layover, then to Philadelphia to arrive the next morning at 8:30 am. Done. I had forgotten my sleeping bag coffin in Jen’s truck, tell her what’s going on with flight delays and she’s back at the airport to pick me up. Thank God because Cody airport is beyond small. Jen and I tourist around Cody, have coffee, chat.

Back at the Cody airport and the coast to coast air trip in less than 24 hours is a success. And just like that, I miss Wyoming.

-- Victoria Tavares Co-founder of Sunshine Women on the Fly 772-301-8828

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Drop Tine Rolling down the highway, headed to work at a Cabela’s ladies day out event, my blaring radio was interrupted with a call from my husband Adam, who was working with a custom crew chopping silage. Hello…oh really, well how big is he…well if you say I might shoot, I likely won’t, Ooooo a drop tine? But is he big?…I’d maybe shoot him…well that’s the second maybe so I probably wouldn’t, but it’s cool you got to see a nice one. Later that evening at home he told me a little more about the buck, and while I was slightly intrigued I really didn’t give it much more thought. Now before you go questioning my sanity and reasoning on not getting excited about a drop tine we need to back up a bit. A bow hunter of 22 years at this point and a rifle hunter prior to that I have absolutely no idea how many hours I have logged in the field chasing these beasts. It is most certainly in the thousands and had I spent that same amount of time working I could probably retire. I’ve taken beautiful mature bucks over the years and it is always my desire to better each one with an even bigger buck, so you can imagine by now it’s going to have to be an extraordinarily big buck for me to take a second look.

Couple that with the fact I’ve laid eyes on two of the most absolutely amazing whitetails most hunters have ever seen and one even ended up in the books as a shed record and well I’m kind of ruined in the way of just taking any old mature buck. With the crew still chopping in the same field the following weekend due to weather holding them up, a different chopper operator phoned Adam Sunday afternoon and was relaying how these bucks were going crazy and running in and out of the field as they neared the end of clearing it. And the “drop tine” was one of them. Adam asked, “are you sure you don’t want to at least try and give him a go? I felt my heart beat quicken at the thought of getting to put a stalk on a nice drop tine and thought if nothing else, it will be a good learning experience, so off I headed north to find the silage crew. When I arrived the crew was working on the south end of the field. The driver stopped and hurriedly met me half way to him with an 44

excited, did you see him? What? No I didn’t see anything. I don’t know how you couldn’t he just ran west up the road in front of you. Again what? I’m thinking I must be blind or losing my mind, how could I miss a beast everyone is drooling over? Yeah, yeah with excitement he said, he headed north across the field about the time you turned the corner, then turned and ran parallel to you up the road. Hold on! I didn’t come from the east I came from the west, but I met a pickup that had come from the east. Well that’s it then the chopper driver had seen him flank another pickup he thought was mine. My heart sank a little as I figured the “drop tine” was long since gone in the canyons to the west and I had missed him only by mere seconds. I decided to hang around anyway and the crew started back up. I was just sitting and glassing when my phone rang. Hello…what?…you never actually saw him leave the field?…and you think he headed towards the few rows you left in that mud hole last week? My heart pounding again and my spirit refreshed like I’d drank from the fountain of youth I knew the odds were pretty good as tight as he was wanting to stay in that field that those few rows were where he was. I headed back out to road, parked on the edge of the forage still standing, sat on the back of the pickup and waited. It may sound crazy to sit and watch on the back of my pickup but there wasn’t a whole lot else I could do at this point except watch which direction he went, if he was in fact hold up in this tiny little sliver of cover. There’s vast open ground to the north and south for hundreds of yards, and the same for a few hundreds yards east and west before every direction disappears in to other fields or canyons. Not a grand scenario for a bow hunter. As the crew worked there way into the first pass of this final piece of cover out he burst with a flurry headed east and my heart skipped a little. Whoa, this is a really nice buck! I watched and I knew immediately this was a worthy adversary and exactly which direction I prayed he would go. As I was watching him run my phone rang again, Hello…yes I see him…I can’t shoot him at 150 yards and running with a bow…yes I’ll watch and see where he goes and then make a plan. So I sat and watched and my heart sank as he turned back north and jumped the fence and crossed the road I was sitting on about 200 yards from me. Well that’s that, he’s gone now, nothing but miles of open ground in front of him, offering him freedom and a long life and me left broken hearted and wondering if there was something I could have done differently. And then he paused, for one tiny millisecond and for reasons I still can’t fathom he changed his mind and turned and came back across the road. He had just made his first mistake and one is all I needed. I could feel the adrenaline surging through my veins as I watched him head the one direction I needed and wanted him to go. Time to waltz big boy, and so the dance began. I waited and watched him cross a road to the east and disappear thru some trees as he entered an old abandoned farm yard, exactly where I prayed he would go and I figured as tight as he

and the other bucks were holding to that field he would bed down immediately. I got back in the pickup, followed east down the road, parked a few hundred yards north of the yard, grabbed my bow and headed east as quickly and quietly as I could. The wind coming from the west had everything playing into my favor if he had in fact held up in that yard. A few hundred yards later the abandoned farm yard opened up to pasture and I saw no sign of him. Crawling on my hands and knees around the corner of a shelter belt to get a line of sight into the yard and just in case he had come all the way thru I peered west and still no sign of him. The house and buildings long sense gone like a tumble weed on the plains the yard was pretty flat accept for some dips here and there and a few scrub trees. I stood and glassed and glassed. He has to be here, I know it in my bones, and then the tiniest glisten caught my eye and my head snapped back to see this beautiful rack shimmering off and on as he moved in and out of the beams of sunlight peaking through the trees. My heartbeat quickened once again and I felt my throat tighten as I watched him non nonchalantly milling around back on the west end of the yard. He was stunning with a crazy rack, the drop tine close to 9” long and pointed almost more backwards than it did down., and my mind said I will take this buck, keep moving. The only thing on my mind was closing the distance between him and I, a mere 240 yards separated me from that drop tine. The wind was not steady and the ground was dry and loud and made it difficult to move in on him, but every time a silage truck would rumble by and fill the valley with noise I moved as fast as I could and then slowed or stopped as the sound of the truck covering my movement rolled out of ear shot. He continued to just mill around his spot as I glassed every few feet. 90 yards in to my stalk, the unthinkable happened, as I was glassing he vanished. Like right before my eyes vanished. Shocked and frustrated I rubbed my eyes, adjusted the binoculars and strained to see what on earth I missed.

Where did he go? After several minutes I convinced myself he dropped down into one of the dips and just bedded. Telling myself this yard is fairly flat and there just couldn’t’ be anywhere else he could have gone while I was watching him. I waited for minutes that felt like hours and still nothing, glassing the only direction, south he could have maybe gone without me seeing him and still nothing. Sure he had bedded down I inched ever so slowly forward, crawling, tip toeing, glassing every foot or two. 47 yards from the spot I lost him now and I do see a little dip in the ground where I am certain he’s bedded down and my thoughts are running wild about how amazingly easy this shot will likely be, until the snap of a twig stops my heart and breathing mid beat and breath. Without looking I know the score is even as I have made my first mistake, a worthy adversary is never easy you silly girl, but I continue to think and instinctively bring the bow up

and start to draw as I turn to see this monster walking parallel to me not 4’ away. I know I gasped a full on mouth open gasp as hard as I tried not to. He wasn’t looking and didn’t even know I was there, but I knew that was about to change as he would get down wind but somehow I still could not make myself shoot him.

He was mesmerizing, the scars on his face and those long eye lashes I hadn‘t seen in the binoculars, his big brown eyes, the silky smooth movement he made with each step and the only sound this giant made was the tiny twig he’d just snapped. How do they do that? I’ve been this close to many smaller bucks and hundreds of does, but this animal captivated me. His body was insanely giant and plump like a fat steer, so much so his skin was tight and rumpled around his shoulders and tail head. In the 4 or 5 steps it took him to get by me it were as if time stood still as I stood in awe of this gorgeous beast and the proximity I had gotten myself to him. I watched his chest move as he breathed, in and out, in and out. While he had no idea death stood so near at this point, the next step would tell the tale and it did, but not like I thought it would. I figured he would wind me and bolt and I’d never see him again. What he did instead will be engrained in my mind like a tattoo the rest of my life. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widened as he lifted his head, turned and looked me full in the eye as if to acknowledge he knew his life was either at the moment about to be over or he’d been sparred. I don’t know which, maybe neither. I shifted my eyes downward so as not to look him straight in the eye and we stood locked 5 feet apart for several minutes and what seemed like an eternity until he simply turned back and began walking east again. I held on to my bow as he gave me one last opportunity for a perfect shot at 18 yards, yet even now at full draw again I could not make myself release that arrow. After his last pause to see if he could cheat death one last time he continued north and east and melted into the shelter belt where he then turned and stood facing and watching me at 40 yards for several more minutes before continuing east and disappearing into the vastness of a sand hills pasture. An intense calm came over me and I realized something I’d probably already known, this is the hunter I have become, I live for the challenge and the joy of pushing myself to be able to experience something I likely never will again. To dance with my adversaries on their turf and to let a worthy one walk when he made a mistake he shouldn’t have. While I started the day just going to see this buck, and deciding at one point I would take him, to in the end when my heart said no, you’ve already accomplished what you really came to do and got to experience more than you ever could have imagined, I knew that was all I could ever ask for in a hunt. I got out of the pickup in such a hurry, I didn’t even take my phone for pictures and I’m not upset about it all. The image of this beautiful buck and the dance we shared will forever live in my mind, and taking a trophy home or letting him walk will without a doubt be engrained in my mind as one of my greatest hunts ever!

Angie AK Creations Tack & Trailer Sales 1-866-313-1752 http:// www.akcreations1.com

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deep sea fishing, watching him catch a massive shark.

The outdoors have called my name. It’s a way of life for me and my family. That love and excitement I now pass on to my own daughters.

The first time I met my husband to be he was dressed in camouflage. He had been hunting with his brother and dad. Now, fast forward a few years and two girls later, he was still hunting but this time I was left at home with two little girls while he hunted every weekend. He traveled out of town and the state returning home with all these exciting hunting stories. I decided just because I was a mother I didn’t have to be left at home, missing all the fun and excitement that I had grown up loving.

Kim Bryant: The difficulties/challenges or lack there-of, of being a female hunter.

Once my husband and I were at a sporting goods store. I walked up to the counter to look at a rifle. The male sales person turned around and looked at me then turned back around and continued his work. My husband was across the aisle looking at crossbows at the time. When my husband joined me at the counter the sales person turned back around and began talking to my husband, as if I didn’t exist. My husband told the man that I would like to look at a rifle for hunting. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Oh, she hunts?”

I’m the one who was purchasing the rifle not my husband but the sales person hands the rifle to him! My husband immediately hands it to me because he could see that I was becoming extremely frustrated and aggravated with this sales person. But I handed the rifle back to my husband and then looked the salesMAN dead in the eye and told him that I was not interested. To this day, I have never been back in that store.

I have been hunting since I was a teenager. I fell in love with hunting and became literally obsessed with it about 15 years ago. Why, you may ask? Well, the outdoors have been a part of my life, my entire life! Growing up camping with family and friends, swimming in the creek, grilling in the backyard, or fishing in the pond; to being with my dad, as a very young girl 46

After he left for another trip I borrowed his camouflage, got a rifle out of the gun safe, packed the girls and started my own hunting adventure! When the girls and I arrived at the farm the deer were standing in the field. Both of my daughters sat in their car seats curiously watching from the window of my Sequoia asI called my husband to ask a question. I chuckle now reminiscing the sound of his voice when I asked him “Can I shoot a buck?”. Needless to say he could not believe I had driven down with the girls and was about to join him hunting! SURPRISE!!! I didn’t kill a buck that afternoon but the girls and I have never missed another hunting trip!

Hunting wasn’t just for the guys anymore, where I was concerned! We were on every trip. My husband wasn’t exactly thrilled but after the shock wore off he was okay.

Deep down he was hoping that I would get tired of the work that goes into hunting with kids BUTwith patience, and at times leaving in the middle of a hunt, at prime time due to one of the girls being cold, tired, bored, hungry or needing to go to the potty, I met the challenge and earned by husband’s respect!

Hunting is definitely challenging in its own regards.

Another experience I had was earning the respect of anold timer who thought women and children should stay at a designated area of the hunting lodge while the men go hunting. Yes, I have been told that women were not meant to hunt; I was intruding on “guy time”.

Being a woman hunter tends to bring laughter to many.

Those nonbelievers don’t think I can track a deer, load or clean one much less go out on my own! Now I can proudly share my experiences I had on my solo African hunting trip!

Over the years, I feel, it has gotten a little better, for women hunters since more women are getting involved.

People are taking notice that women can; in fact hunt just as good if not better than some of the guys. But it is still a male dominated industry. I have felt the pressure to work harder, speak up and prove that I love the sport. I want it as bad, or worse, than some guys!

Women have had to adapt to this pressure so that we can prove that we can “hang with the big dogs!” I believe if we continue to educate, inspire, and encourage women, get involved and develop ladies groups, like the one I am an Alabama Chapter Leader for, create clothing that fit us properly, organize all ladies hunts and outdoor events we will continue to grow in numbers and make a mark in this industry! As well as earn the respect of those who do not think women can hunt! Through trials, blood, sweat and tears, I think I have learned to adapt.

My girls have grown up hunting now and are harvesting their own deer, my oldest is hunting solo and tracking her deer through the years I’ve witnessed growth from wearing camo that doesn’t fit properly to using guns that are too long, (youth models don’t fit either), too being able to say there are women’s camouflage in some stores, our selection may not be as big as the men’s but we are making headway. Women have guns and equipment geared toward us. I’m thankful to see growth, I look forward to continue seeing our young girls step up into this field and hunting brands take notice that we make up a huge majority of the hunting industry and get use to the sales manager behind the desk or the person on the other end of the call being a women and she’s just as knowledgeable as the guy’s about what stock you are looking for or what gun is right for you!

Kim Bryant Alabama Wildlife Women chapter leader

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can't shoot anymore. He does still gets out and goes with me sometimes. It kills me to see him not being able to do what he loves. I'm a Daddy's girl for sure, lol, and everyone knows it.

He taught me everything I know about hunting. Well, a couple of weeks ago, I killed 8 points 165 lbs, but we knew there was a bigger one back there because we had him on the trail camera. So I continued to hunt him pretty hard.

Yesterday, November 21st, I was hunting the same stand, and it was getting close to dark; and I figured my hunt was over; all of a sudden, this monster came out and was walking across the field. He wasn't stopping or slowing down at all, and I knew it was the big one I had been hunting. So, I put it on his front shoulder and squeezed the trigger, and he fell in his tracks. I looked in the scope and could see the horns. It was over a 200-yard shot.

I've been hunting with my Daddy since I was 5.

My mother worked for Springs Industry and had to work Saturdays, so instead of getting a baby sitter, he decided to just take me with him. He always took a sleeping bag for me to get in so I wouldn't get cold and just in case I wanted to nap, lol. I killed my first one by myself when I was 8 years old and was hooked from then on. I've killed a lot of deer in my lifetime and love to shoot.

I was the Captain of the rifle team in JROTC in high school, and we shot in competitions; and I was number 1 in the State for shooting pellet rifles in 2002, which is the year that I graduated Lancaster High School. Life went on; I got married and had a baby girl and didn't hunt for years because I was a stay at home mom and never really had the time. Once she started Kindergarten, I went to Cosmetology school and graduated from there in 2010. So from then until now, I may be hunted once or twice a year. Now that my daughter Taylor is 16 and getting older and driving, I have some time to pursue this year.

I've hunted more this year than I have in 16 or 17 years.

My Daddy continued to hunt during all of those years, but now sadly, he has Parkinson's and 48

I was so proud of my shot. I had walked to the stand, so I called my Dad and told him I had killed Big Boy!!! He was so excited and said we will be there in a few with the truck to load him up!!! I killed him in Lancaster, South Carolina. He was a 9 point and weighed 200 lbs, which is pretty rare around here.

Deer don't get too big in this area bc people seem to shoot everything they see and don't let them grow and mature into a great big buck. My Daddy and his neighbor lease out about 50 acres beside their house, and that's where I shot him.

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Water by 8 a.m. both fishing whatever was biting. The weather was unusually hot for Northern Ontario and it made for hard fishing. Not much was caught although there were hours of fishing put in by the end of the day.

The lodge had set up a lovely shore dinner fish fry for us.

We ate, had a great fellowship, and some headed back out for some evening fishing.

Wednesday we all were more focused. We were also feeling a bit defeated. Here we were on a river famous for big fish and we were barely getting nibbles. We had the rods, the bait, and all the tackle you could possibly ever need BUT the darn weather was SO hot. However by the end of the day we had all caught something. Not the monsters we all wanted but that's the way it goes sometimes. Although one of the girls got herself her first muskie, but she had put the hours in. I think her and her fishing partner fished 37 out of 48 hours. They are very dedicated anglers and I tip my hat to them.

A Reel Canadian Adventure with Wildlife Women

By Heather LeBlanc Wildlife Woman Chapter Leader In late June of this year eight ladies made the track to Dokis Ontario to spend roughly two days fishing the famous French River with two days of travel. Wildlife women is an organization that educates, inspires, and encourages ladies to be confident in the outdoors.

Chapter leader Heather LeBlanc plan this event which included seven ladies from Kentucky and one from Ontario. We stayed in cabins at the tilted to Wilderness Lodge right on the French River. We rented two boats from Magise Marina and one of our ladies brought her own boat. We came ready to slay fish.

Everyone arrived by Monday afternoon. Some of the ladies flew to Toronto and drove the rest of the way, and the other ladies drove all the way from Kentucky. We all settled into our cabins. Took note of our surroundings and started to fish the banks. Not a lot of hanging out was done because we were all tired from travel and needed to set up our rods so we were ready to fish the next morning.

On Tuesday morning one group set off by 5 AM. That group was seriously hunting muskies. Another group headed out by 7:30 a m and the last group were on the 50

Thursday was our day to leave which meant most of us stayed up way too late on Wednesday night either fishing or enjoying the planned sunset river tour. Those activities were followed by late night chit chats in our cabins and green screening interviews for our reality TV show Wildlife Women airing locally in Eastern Kentucky on Hometown 24. A great time was had by all. We were not slaying monsters, but we were all learning or educating each other, we were all encouraging one another, and we were doing our best to inspire others to do the same. At the end of the day and our trip we knew the weather got the best of us as far as the fishing goes but we took the best things away from our experiences as we could.

By keeping positive attitudes and enjoying the little things we had an unforgettable once-in-a-lifetime experience/ trip. That is what Wildlife Women is all about. Our motto is something we all stand by. We all genuinely want to educate, inspire, and encourage. If we all take the time to encourage someone in the outdoors, inspire the next generation to get outside, and do everything we can to educate others so they feel confident with their own skills we can continue this outdoor way of life for many years to come. Please check out Wildlife Women and all our adventures at wildlife-women.com or on facebook.com/ wildlifewomen/.

The next day my fiancée messed up his knee and was out, his son Adam and I took off. To chase them he bugled and the bull answered, we walked a bit farther and he bugled again , this time very close! Adam told me to walk to the fallen tree and be ready, he was going up high to call but when I turned around that old bull was standing 30 yards away!! He bolted and I never had a chance to even draw my bow back on him. By the time we made it all the way back to camp my feet were covered in blisters and I was completely exhausted. The next day we built a blind and i hunted out of it for a couple days, we had a bull answer our calls and was so mad he was almost growling, but wouldn’t come in bow range.

My First Public Land DIY Archery Elk Hunt Shannon Beck

The last evening hunt we spotted a bull on the other ridge and decided to go after him, we took off down the mountain and up the other side in record time. When we got up there the bull answered our bugle from the other side of the rock cliff, we went up the cliff and he answered almost behind us.

I ran to the edge of the cliff to get a shot but all I could see was the back of his horns, I went into full draw and quickly walked towards him but he winded us, barked and ran away.

He never seen me he was looking straight at the decoy the whole time. Even though I didn’t come home with a trophy bull I had the best experience of my life!! I can’t wait to try again next year.

We put in for the draw in New Mexico and hoped for the best, that awaited day arrived and I couldn’t believe I drew Unit 16D! The state of New Mexico only allows a small number of non-resident hunters in that area, i had less than a 2% chance and I got it!! In July me, my fiancé and his son and grandson went to scout! It was like being in a petting zoo for elk, they were everywhere!!!

September came and we packed up and took off for the mountains prepared for a 14 day hunt! Very primitive set up just cots and a tent and charcoal to cook on! The first morning of the hunt we took off and quickly heard two big bulls fighting once it got daylight we could see them, but they were down in a bottom with swirling wind and our thermals were going right down to them so no shot opportunities, but still very exciting. We took off and bugled and got an answer we had him coming straight to us 200 yards out and then the wind changed and he was gone!

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“You won’t miss if you NEVER take the shot” While the saying, you won’t miss if you never take the shot may be true, there is even more truth to the fact that while you won’t miss, you will also never MAKE the shot if you don’t learn to take it. And herein lies another very old saying of practice makes perfect. For years and years, probably 17 be exact I had this idea in my head that a bow shot over 40 yards was unfathomable. I mean who would attempt such a shot and risk wounding an animal, I for one was not going to be that person. As my years of shooting started adding up, the bows that were coming out were getting better and better and the idea of shooting farther began creeping into my head. I was starting to hear of other shooters doing it so why not try? Well I did and I was immediately both elated and disappointed. I could shoot past 40 yards but it wasn’t pretty. I found myself stepping back up time after time to the 20-40 yards where my shots were perfect and every so often I’d step back and think well crap I still stink from back here. In 2015 I was forced outside of my little 40 yard comfort zone when preparing for a caribou hunt. I had asked the outfitter what kind of shot I needed to be prepared for and he answered with, you should be comfortable out to 70 yards. My heart sank, but I dug my heels in and went to work From that day forward I have rarely practiced anything under 70 yards.

What I discovered is to be 100 percent comfortable at a certain distance, I have to be shooting beyond that distance. Practicing at 80, 90 and even 100 yards makes the 70 yard shot feel like the 40 yard shot used to, a walk in the park. The same can be said for weather elements. I used to try and shoot on perfect days, no wind, no rain etc.

Well guess what, I have rarely had a “perfect” day to hunt.

Now I shoot on the nastiest days I can and I make that harder by shooting when I am exhausted, like from fixing fence all day. I want my muscles aching and trembling to 52

resemble a nervous shot on a hunt. This paid off this past May while on a bear hunt in Canada, for 11 days it rained all but one day. I was exhausted and my bow and hand were soaked. While I never got a shot at a bear I have no doubt in my mind my shot would have still hit its mark. This kind of practice may sound torturous, but I promise it will make you a better shot, as it did me. I shot my caribou at 57 yards in a stiff wind and dropped him almost exactly where he stood. I push myself to “take” the crazy shots when practicing so when the opportunity presents itself I will be able to “make” that shot in the field. Going a bit further, have you ever heard someone say they tried to “thread the needle” on a shot in the field and it did not end well? I have, way to many times. My thought process here is if you’re in a stand, why aren’t your shooting lanes clear? And if they can’t be then once again you better be practicing the shot and know exactly what size of needle you can actually thread.

Practice can never rule out every possible scenario in hunting, but it sure can eliminate a bunch of them and save you a ton of heart ache down the road. Happy Shooting!

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little too young to carry a gun while walking the woods, but they were just as excited as the adults to be going squirrel hunting.

SQUIRREL DOGS Written By, David Hoover Courtesy of Jess & Marc Gray

When I was growing up, my small-game hunting experiences mainly consisted of chasing rabbits and quail with dogs. My squirrel hunting excursions were more limited. They generally involved donning camo, quietly walking the woods near my house, and searching for an unwary squirrel given away by a subtle flicker of fur among the treetops. When the spot-and-stalk tactic didn’t work, I would find a big tree to sit against and do my best to imitate the sound of a squirrel eating a hickory nut, hoping to encourage any nearby squirrels to investigate and give up their cover. It had been a few years since I last chased any bushytails around the woods. So when Tom, a friend and quail-hunting buddy of mine, called and asked if I wanted to try my hand at squirrel hunting with dogs, I jumped at the opportunity.

Until today, Tom and Austin were the only two hunters I knew who hunted squirrels using dogs, so I asked Marcus about the popularity of this tradition. He said that back when the countryside was dotted with small subsistence family farms, most farmsteads likely had a dog from one of the common squirrel dog breeds. Not only were they used to hunt squirrels to supply the family with meat, they were good at protecting the hen house. As time went on and these small farms disappeared from the landscape, the squirreldog hunting tradition began to decline. Marcus also said he sees this tradition starting to gain in popularity as more folks are finding out how enjoyable it is.

As Daisy and Zip were getting reacquainted, Marcus and Jess got their kids ready for the hunt.

It was obvious to me that the trips back to the family farm for Marcus and Jess were as much about instilling a love of the outdoors and conservation in their children as it was about hunting squirrels on the home place. Once the dogs were sufficiently reacquainted, they were ready for the hunt.

TIMBERING OUT

As we walked down the wooded fence line leading to the woods, Marcus and Austin kept close eye on Daisy and Zip’s every movement. We hadn’t yet reached the woods when suddenly both dogs stopped and cocked their ears toward the trees and looked back as if to say, “You guys A FAMILY TRADITION Tom and his 14-year-old grandson, Austin, brought hear that?" along Zip, a 2-year-old mountain feist, when we “What are they listening for?” I asked Marcus. “It drove out to meet Tom’s friends on their family farm in north Missouri. Marcus, his wife, Jess, their may be a squirrel timbering out.” Marcus went on two kids — and Zip’s mom, Daisy — had made the to explain that “timbering out” is when a squirrel hops from treetop to treetop in an attempt to trek out from New Jersey, something they do twice a year to visit family and friends. Marcus, an elude detection or escape after being treed. Both dogs made a beeline to the woods. Once there, avid squirrel hunter, had learned to hunt on this they searched the treetops to detect the slightest farm and had harvested his first squirrel in the bit of movement. Not seeing any, they moved on, very woods we were about to hunt. The kids, 5putting their noses to the ground in hopes of year-old Danielle and 3-year old Robert, were a picking up the scent of a squirrel, all the while keeping eyes and ears focused on the treetops.

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Suddenly Daisy got very excited and began yipping. She ran toward a big oak tree on the edge of a ravine, staring at the treetops. She circled the tree once and put her front feet on the trunk and began to bark, much the same way a baying coonhound does with a treed raccoon. “Let’s go! They’re on the wood,” Marcus called to the group.

After a couple of steps, Marcus turned and said, “That means they have a squirrel treed.”

I picked up the pace, not wanting the squirrel to get away, or timber out. I looked back, hoping that Danielle and Robert would be able to keep up, and to my surprise they were right behind me. In fact, Jess was trying to keep up with them! As I reached the oak tree, Daisy was barking and leaning against the tree. Zip was close by, keeping an eye on the elusive squirrel. I heard Austin say, “I see him.” Marcus told Austin to go ahead if he had a clear shot. Austin aimed his shotgun and fired.

A TEACHABLE MOMENT

Both Daisy and Zip made a mad dash to retrieve the harvested fox squirrel lying on a pile of oak leaves. When Daisy brought the squirrel to Marcus, he showed it to Danielle and Robert and explained the difference between a fox squirrel and a gray squirrel.

He also took a moment to praise the dogs for their efforts, and we grown-ups discussed how keeping cattle out of the woods and selectively cutting trees can provide quality wildlife habitat, particularly for squirrels and other small-game species.

Marcus got the kids involved in this discussion, too. “Taking good care of the woods helps make sure we have lots of squirrels to hunt every year,” he said.

For their part, Danielle and Robert took the woods in stride. Neither complained much about the weeds and bushes they had to navigate through, all of which seemed to hit them at eye level. It was obvious they had, even at such a young age, spent many hours in the woods chasing squirrels behind Daisy.

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They fully understood it was just part of the game.

We continued hunting and soon entered a large area of open woods with stately bur oak trees.

Austin harvested another squirrel, with the assistance of Daisy and Zip, of course. We had hunted for nearly an hour and had seen some pretty nifty dog work when we decided to take a break. Marcus told us about the time, as an 8-yearold boy, he harvested his first squirrel with his dad in these woods.

“I also found a yellow jacket nest,” he said, “but that wasn’t nearly as much fun as getting my first squirrel.” We laughed and, with legs rested and spirits high, continued on until Daisy and Zip were on another squirrel. This time the bushytail was able to retreat into a cavity high in the tree, likely its den. Knowing that the squirrel wouldn’t venture out until we were well out of sight, we moved on.

When temperatures started rising into the 50s and the winds picked up, we knew it was going to get more difficult for the dogs to find squirrels. We decided to cut across a harvested cornfield and make one last push through a wooded draw on our way back to the vehicles and a well-deserved lunch. About halfway down the draw, Daisy located a squirrel in a hard-to-reach tree along a deep ravine. With a little studying and careful navigation, Austin was able to bag his third squirrel of the morning, assisted by Daisy with a nice retrieve.

ENJOY TIME OUTDOORS WITH FAMILY AND FRIENDS

Back at the vehicles, we discussed the morning hunt and how well the dogs had performed.

Danielle and Robert were happy to get another break and play with the dogs, which were no longer in hunt mode and receptive to the affection the kids gave them. After seeing the kids and adults interact with the dogs, it was clear that the hunt was not about how many squirrels we harvested. Rather, it was about enjoying time spent outdoors with family and friends, passing on a love of the outdoors and the conservation of an abundant and renewable wildlife resource. Squirrel hunting with dogs does not ensure you will harvest more squirrels than with any other hunting method, but it does allow for greater interaction among

hunting clubs in Missouri.

PLENTY OF SQUIRRELS, A LONG SEASON, AND LOTS OF PLACES TO HUNT

Squirrel hunting has a rich history and remains popular among Missouri small-game hunters. It is also a great way to obtain locally sourced food while enjoying the outdoors and time spent with family and friends.

those in your hunting party. Instead of sitting motionless and quiet, you are afforded the opportunity to have lively conversations while hunting. This provides an excellent opportunity to teach firearm safety and hunting ethics to children and beginning hunters, discuss wildlife management, and life in general.

As Jess rounded up the kids for a photo with Daisy and Zip, I thanked Tom and Marcus for inviting me to accompany them on such an enjoyable and unique hunting experience. Once all the photos were taken, dogs rounded up, and gear put away, all that was left was for Austin to clean the squirrels. As we watched him perform this task with efficiency obtained only from years of practice, I again thanked Tom and Marcus for a wonderful day afield and told them I might just have to get one of these squirrel dogs. That way, I could invite them to join me sometime for a day of squirrel hunting.

Tree squirrels are abundant throughout the state. Missouri is home to three species: the eastern gray squirrel, eastern fox squirrel, and the southern flying squirrel. Both the eastern gray squirrel and eastern fox squirrel are legal to hunt. With the exception of coyotes, squirrels have the longest season of Missouri’s small-game species.

Properly licensed hunters can legally harvest squirrels from the fourth Saturday in May to Feb. 15.

If you don’t have access to good squirrel hunting on private land, you can find plenty of conservation areas with good squirrel hunting statewide. Visit mdc.mo.gov/atlas, and use the activity menu to search for hunting.

Mountain feist is just one of the many squirrel dog breeds, several of which have been around for hundreds of years. The most common squirrel dogs generally come from one of three breed classifications: curs, feists, and terriers.

A quick internet search will help you find sources of squirrel dogs and squirrel 55

Tips For An African Hunt Kim Bryant I did a solo trip/hunt last year! Loved it and I’m going back June of 2020. My tips for travel you’ll need African $ (Rand) for tipping, airport food, souvenirs you may see and other merchandise. I used Travelex, you can get the money delivered straight to your door step, very convenient you have to sign for it and show an ID for verification.

Do get travel insurance for assurance and peace of mind. Global rescue is a great one. Nomad is who I used. You’ll need a plug adapter for your phone & electronics. you can order three prong plug off amazon. You will also need to get international calling otherwise you’re phone bill will be crazy expensive another great app is WhatsApp it’s free, check with what area you’ll be hunting for your mandated vaccination, I didn’t have to have everything just updated a few that was recommended.

As far as safety, I never felt unsafe or scared! Just pay attention to your surroundings, don’t leave and go to unpopulated areas. I actually found that everyone was very helpful at the airport in Johannesburg, they’ll be baggage handlers coming up to you asking to help with luggage for a tip and I let them help me direct me to exactly were I was going. I never left the airport though so I didn’t explore the city other than when my PH picked me up and dropped me off. I did have crazy flight itinary and literally was the crazy women sitting on the isle seat and running through the airport making my flights! Thank God I didn’t miss one. Oh I hope I never have to fly Into JFK again that was stressful I ran up 7 levels or something, I couldn’t even tell you how I found my gate that day! Take tons of pictures, when you get there time just kinda stands still and I loved it because I was never rushed!! Enjoy every minute it’s by far my most favorite hunt and place I’ve ever traveled!! Do your research, find a reputable outfitter and PH, get referrals from previous hunters, the success of your trip depends on the trust, the knowledge and experience of the PH you are hunting with. Don’t be shy to ask questions I’m telling you people in Africa was more welcoming, friendly and helpful than any person at any of the American airports I stopped at! I fell in love with Africa!! I could move there I think!

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Well...a little doe yearling came out in front of the shooting house in the field. I just simply watch while the yearling is eating, and out of the corner of my eye, I see several black blobs (hogs) racing across the field. To my utter shock, they took the yearling by one of its hind legs and brit down. In that moment...I decided to start opening fire on them to get them off the yearling. They all eventually scattered. In the meantime, the yearling is bleating and screaming in the field and cannot get up. I was heartbroken. I waited a few minutes before I decided to go into the field just to make sure the hogs were gone.

An Invasive Issue In The U.S. By: Victoria Wilson (Loftis) Wild Hogs are known to be the most invasive and aggressive animals in the United States. You can harvest two of them, and usually four more will pop up in their place. Right now, in Alabama, they pose a serious threat to the native Wildlife. They cause serious damages to the habitat, crops, and even your own yards. They are known to be aggressive and volatile. Per the U.S. Department of Agriculture, feral hogs have caused an estimated $800 million dollars in damages to crops and habitats. They have even attacked people when threatened or because we have messed with one of their prey items. Wild Hogs are known to eat dead animals, carcasses, and live animals too.

I know from experience what happens first hand. In 2018, I went down to our family property, The Loftis Plantation, which is located in Butler, Alabama. I planned sit in one of the fields to hunt for Whitetails.

I got dressed, packed, and loaded up my grandparents John Deere Gator and proceeded to drive to the field. When I arrived, it was peaceful and quiet. I climbed into the shooting house like usual and sat there for an hour and a half before some does creeped out. So I decided that I was going to lay one of them down. Of course, I flinched and missed. Even if I missed, I walked out to just double check. Nothing turned up at all, so I got back in the house and sat for a little longer.

I get in the field and there is no way the yearling could've been saved. So I dispatched it to end its pain and suffering. Right after, out of nowhere, I am knocked down and being attacked by wild pigs from behind. I scream and kick at them just to keep them off of me. I finally got my gun in the right position, and opened fire.

There were squeals, screams, and blood flying. They finally high tailed it out of the field. My back and legs were covered in blood. I couldn’t tell if it was from the pigs or myself. I quickly got up and headed towards the Gator. I drove it into the field. Picked up my stuff and the yearling. I finally got on the road out, and ran into one of the other hunters in the adjacent field from mine.

I was so shaken and in shock. I barely got the words out for them to call my mom, and my grandparents. They followed me out of the field and to the farmhouse. I got into the house and headed straight to the bathroom, my family proceeded to check to see if any of the blood on me was mine. Luckily, it was not mine. I only got out of attack with a bruised hip and back. Plus some very minor cuts where there was no blood.

I learned a very important lesson that day. That is to learn patience and even if there is an animal suffering, always wait. It is better to not put your life in danger for the life of your game even if the animal is still alive. Also if you can, carry a handgun. Rifles are way to long in the barrel to get an up and personal shot while handguns are easier to handle and pick up. Always keep a look out on your surroundings and be patient while hunting. You never know what is going to come out in the field and surprise you.

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Mule Deer from a Tree Jaimie Robinson

the perfect opportunity to draw. He was 13 yards at a 36degree angle and as I worked through my perfect shot sequence in my head, I saw him look at me through my sight housing.

That was the moment I knew I had to execute the shot.

As he ran off and I saw the arrow sticking out his side, I knew I made a good shot, but the arrow had hit his opposite shoulder blade and stuck. A few hours later, we started to trail my deer. We quickly found the broken arrow where I had seen him run and I heard the arrow hit as he ran by a tree. There was no blood other than great lung blood on the arrow. Luckily, I my friend was scouting for coyotes nearby and he saw a deer run out of the woods, run in a circle, and lie down in some thick brush. We tried to let the tracking dog, Lucy, a Standard Smooth European Dachshund find him but the lack of blood, high deer traffic, and up to 40 mile per hour winds at this point were too much for her until we got close.

In Colorado, we often just get one deer tag. After shooting my first mule deer doe with a bow a few years ago, I have passed on many does and small bucks because I wanted something more. This meant eating tag soup and being content with it. I became obsessed with the spot and stalk pursuit of mule deer. This is my favorite way to hunt.

This fall, I was invited to hunt in Western Nebraska. After a year of seeing trail camera pictures of giant mule deer, I could not wait. With a general archery tag, either sex, and an antlerless deer tag in my pocket, I had confidence that I was going to both fill my freezer and get that mule deer buck this year. Among the many great benefits of hunting in Nebraska, they give you a bonus antlerless whitetail tag with your antlerless tag. With whitetail does in mind, my friend resurrected an old treehouse stand.

One day he told me that there was a unique whitetail buck that was coming to that tree and the plan changed. I had spent the past 3 years obsessed with the idea of a mule deer buck and suddenly the shooting a whitetail buck became a new idea for this hunt. One Sunday morning, I woke at 2 am and drove the 150 miles to Nebraska to get to the spot at dawn. The howling wind helped me sneak into the stand 6:15, way later than I had anticipated arriving.

Dawn was at 7:10 and it was nearly light as I walked in. My treestand was in the river bottom in a copse of trees that protected me from the 20-30 mile per hour gusts. As I was watching the field off to my right, I saw antlers moving through the tall grass. I stood slowly and put myself in position to wait for him to walk by on the game trail. Those few seconds it takes for a deer to slowly walk, leg-by-leg, inch-by-inch of body to the right position are the slowest. He walked out in front of me and stopped to eat some grass, giving me 58

We went to the area where my friend had seen a buck lie down. Lucy was able to pick up his trail as we got close and found him. Getting my first archery buck was everything that I hoped for, I learned that you must be ready for any hunting situation. I had planned for a spot and stalk mule deer or a treestand whitetail, I never thought I would shoot a mule deer from a tree but I am elated that I did.

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Checker Evans, is one hot tough cowboy full of grit and hard work but has a slow hand when it comes to the love of his life Levi.

Checker and Levi blend their children and love of horses and ranch life at their September barn wedding in front of their family and friends on Levi’s Montana ranch, that now becomes this Missouri cowboy’s adventure of a lifetime!

Checker has his reservations about the dangers of taking his new wife and family to herd wild horses through Yellowstone National Park into Montana, but Levi is hell-bent on keeping the promise she made to her daughter about saving a herd of wild horses from Wyoming and herding them back to the family’s ranch in Montana.

Get your boots and spurs on, grab your chaps, pull your hat down tight and saddle up for the ride of your life with this determined rancher, they call Levi!

PRE ORDER: https://www.amazon.com/dp/ B08F4JLD3C

The novel DARK STALKER by Author, Juanita D. Houston is a book that you don't want to miss! This book has so many twists and turns and mystery, plus a possible murder! Can you figure it out!

Will Kyle and Jaz find their way back to each other? Click a link below and indulge yourself into this book page after page!

Kyle Walker had his hands full being Sheriff of Whiskey Bend, Texas. Between the drag racing teens and self-important citizens, the small town keeps him hopping. His life is full except for the one person he longs for, Jaz, who moved away years before after a misunderstanding. He still hasn’t forgotten her.

Jasmine VanZandt left Whiskey Bend years before when she thought Kyle cheated on her with the one girl she hated most, resulting in pregnancy. She knew he’d “do the right thing”, and she couldn’t stay to watch him marry someone else. It would’ve destroyed her.

Eight years later, she decides to return, only to have her world turned upside down and inside out before she can get back. Her parents are killed in a car wreck, which appears remarkably similar to one that occurred twenty-seven years before. But this time, the evidence obviously points to murder. Could the wreck that happened years before have been foul play as well? When they discover Jaz is being followed, both realize they must face their past before they can make a future together. Small towns are notorious for secrets, but Whiskey Bend has some killer ones!

Purchase here: https://www.amazon.com/.../ref=ppx_yo_dt_b_asin_title_o03... https://www.barnesandnoble.com/.../dark.../1137385803... www.juanitadhouston.com

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