African Tiger Fishing With Roxsean (Rocky) Edwards
Vol 1 Issue 2 March/April 2015
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Welcome to Huntress Life Magazine Articles
A Dandy Dirty Doe Candace Hubble.............................................................................................4 Williams First Hog Amanda Bronder............................................................................................7 Defining a Hunter Kimberly Synder............................................................................................8 You Never Forget Your First Time Danielle Friedman.........................................................................................12 Adventure On The Ice Anita Williams..............................................................................................16 African Tiger Fishing Rocky Edwards.............................................................................................20 Big Fish, Bright Future: Bristol Bay River Academy Engages Fish -Minded Local Youth Jenny Lynes..................................................................................................26 Not Your Average Huntress Gregory Harkness.........................................................................................32 The Twins
Sharlene Todd.............................................................................................36 A Loss For Words Stacy Lynn Urbshott......................................................................................38
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Product Reviews Through Camo Eyes Womens Under Armour Hunting Boots Teresa DePalma............................................................................................30
Recipes Duck Pizza
Danielle Friedman.........................................................................................11
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A Dandy Dirty Doe By Candace Hubble
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2015 started off with a hunting trip to Deep South Texas and although we had hunted this terrain before, never this specific ranch. We took 4 pop-up blinds to help keep us mobile for changing deer patterns since most of the set-ups already there were for rifle hunting so we needed to be prepared. The forecast was for rain, rain, cold, and more rain. On New Year’s Eve we headed south near the Texas/Mexico border; the rain had made everything extremely sloppy but still excited to hunt. The next morning we scouted a few spots for blinds and found some senderos that looked promising. After a few hunts with no deer movement we moved one of the blinds to a sendero with a feeder on it. The brush in South Texas is extremely thick leaving only small roads or senderos to hunt, therefore baiting is almost necessary. Regardless of hunting over bait, this wasn’t going to be an easy task. We set up the ground blind in the new spot and brushed it in completely. I knew these deer were going to notice this new “bush” in the road but had to take my chances; leaving only a tiny opening for a shooting window I had to be as concealed as possible knowing these deer would be on high alert. I was 30 yards from the feeder and we had thrown out more corn in the road to help. I watched birds scurry around and it was 5:15pm when I saw a large doe step out into the road 17 yards away. The brush is so thick you cannot see the deer walking toward you or if they are in your area unless you are elevated in a blind rifle hunting. The trees aren’t tall enough to put stands in to bow hunt out of but the brush is just high enough to cover the heads of deer. The windows of opportunity bow hunting here were slim. As she stepped out, she immediately looked at my brushed-in blind and walked back in the brush. My heart started racing because for the brief moment I saw the front legs and chest of this doe, I knew she was a big, mature doe and was ready. I steadied my bow and waited for her to calm down and hopefully make a return appearance. As I tried to calm my breathing and nerves she came back out into the road and headed to the corn. I decided to give her a little time to get comfortable (animals are always more alert when eating) before I took the shot. I drew and released and saw my arrow fall out the other side of her as she darted into the thick brush. I was shaking and knew I had made a good shot. As I went to nock
another arrow my heart sank. A bobcat crossed the road and stopped for a brief second (not long enough to get my bow drawn again) and headed in the direction of my doe. Just my luck. It was raining, foggy, only 45 minutes until dark, and a bobcat was traveling in the same direction as my doe, so I prayed. Then I text my husband and a few friends to pray for a quick expiration and hope that the bobcat didn’t run my doe into another county or start destroying her. I was torn between going to search for her and keep the bobcat off of her or wait the full 30 minutes. I compromised instead. I exited the blind quietly to check the impact site and arrow for blood to determine my shot. There was blood and my arrow had bubbly blood on it. I had a feeling she probably ducked a little when I shot and hit lungs instead of heart but I was confident after seeing the arrow and blood at impact site as well as blood on the cactus right on the edge of the road. I sat back in the blind and prayed again that the rain wouldn’t wash away the blood and this would be a quick recovery. I waited about 25 minutes and decided to go look before I lost light.
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I only took my pistol because the brush was so thick I was going to be crawling on hands and knees and didn’t want my string getting cut by cactus or mesquite thorns. I knew I had to be ready to shoot a bobcat that might have started his dinner on my doe and possibly recruited others. The tracking process was about 15 minutes, mostly because getting through the brush was so thick and the blood was deceiving because of the rain. I was alone because my husband was still hunting but I found her about 50 yards from where I had shot her. I could see her, but couldn’t immediately get to her because of the brush. I looked around for a hungry kitty cat but no sign. My eyes began to fill with tears and I tried to jump up and down and do my victory dance but the brush was so thick I cut myself on some thorns and stuck myself with cactus instead (well worth it). I finally made my way to her and realized since I had been crawling and finding ways through the brush tracking blood, I wasn’t exactly sure where I was anymore. I tried to drag her but without my game hauler I wasn’t going to get far. Light was fading fast and the rain was steady; I had 3 flashlights with me (red, white, and green) so I left the white light with the doe pointing upward for a marker and attempted to make my way back to the road. My husband and friend were headed to me and somehow I made a quick exit to the road, pushing through thick brush getting cut up more. When I saw them walking towards me I ran to my husband crying and laughing with excitement and we embraced for that amazing moment we live for. As we walked the road we found my white light and realized she was only about 15 yards from the
road! We recovered her and headed back to camp for a weigh in of 130 pounds of beautiful venison! I know that may not seem like a big deer to my Northern friends but in the Texas Hill Country a big doe is 90 pounds making this southern girl a fatty! She was my biggest doe taken with a bow and I was ecstatic to share another hunting moment with my husband and great friends. We were so blessed to hunt on their ranch and leave with an ice chest full of meat! That was one dandy dirty doe! I also stayed true to one of my New Year’s Lifestyle changes and documented the hunt in my Rite in the Rain Notebook!
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Williams First Hog By Amanda Bronder
On December 27, 2014 in Kosciusko, TX it started off as a windy, nasty, damp day; it had rained off and on most of the day and the temperature was in the 30’s. We had a goal though to get 10 year old William his first hog. We started off putting William and his dad in a ground blind praying a hog would come out, however it was far too windy and everything was bedded down and there was no sign of the wind letting up. Still with hope we headed back to load the dogs and see if they couldn’t put him on one. With wind and even light rain it makes it harder for the dogs to wind or track a hog; the wind swirls the scent around and the rain washes it away. About five to ten minutes in the rain stopped, and we continued to hunt. That night we were hunting Gator, who is a finished strike dog (meaning he will find hogs), Bonnie, our catch dog, and Nitro and Copper, both young dogs who still need some experience. Finally while watching the Garmin I see Gator trailing out rather quick. We stop and wait; sure enough he opens up and begins to bay. He was in a low spot and you could barely hear, but we grabbed Bonnie and started his direction. Both of the pups finally got to him and the South Texas brush came alive you could hear hogs everywhere, sent in Bonnie and game over…caught hog. We had to cross the outskirts of a tank and William lost a shoe, but being a trooper made it the rest of the way in the nasty South Texas brush without it. I was the first one to the hog and legged and flipped her while my husband Allen pulled the dogs off giving William a clear area to stick his first hog. He was so excited and while we were leading
dogs out, and dragging the hog back to the truck it began to rain again. We got everything loaded up and figured we might better not try our luck, so we headed home. We get to the tank dam and the front end of my Ford F250 starts sliding into the tank, we drove into the property in 2WD, and that fifteen to thirty minutes of rain made it so slick we couldn’t get out. We all had to make a two mile hike in rain, wind, and mud to meet up with someone to guide them close enough to my truck to load the dogbox, dogs, and hog. On the way back William tells me that this was definitely his “most favorite adventure”. Every chance we get to hunt is a blessing, and better than sitting on the couch, but his words truly touched me considering the bad luck with the weather and having to leave my truck. We finally made it back home and got the dogs unloaded and the hog ready for the cooler around 5am. I am very thankful that we got to help William get his first hog.
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Defining a Hunter By, Kimberly Snyder
Many people have a hard time defining their passion, what drives them, what moves them, what defines the make-up of their very being. When developing a long-standing passion, what caused someone to become inspired by the activity? Did they discover it on their own? Or was it the result of modeling by others? My greatest passion emerged with the phrase, “Live the life you want to live, not the life you have to live”. That passion for me is embodied in my drive and determination, my pursuit for everything outdoors.
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y name is Kimberly Snyder, third generation born in the United States. I was raised by a passionate family that looked to the United States for the freedom and opportunities that were at their fingertips by working hard and pushing forward. Growing up I was my father’s shadow. I spent every moment I could outside with him: cutting firewood, tending to the garden, and hunting. I look back on that time in my life with an unfathomable fondness. His love and appreciation for everything around me was imprinted on my soul and the joy of seeing God’s fingerprints everywhere in the great outdoors whether fishing, hunting or hiking formed a passion inside me. Then, when I was 17, my
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sister was tragically taken from my family. At that moment my life changed forever; my father was never the same and his very being left him. My time outdoors was stifled from that loss; my hero was no longer beside me teaching me and fueling my drive. Years later my love for the outdoors was reborn. From the very first moment I stepped back into my apparel, held my shotgun and witnessed God’s beautiful outdoors, every memory and love of my childhood was brought back to me. The loss of my sister and the emotional loss of my father surrounded me that morning in the woods. My passion, my drive and my life was back and all because of the outdoors. Since that moment, I have made hunting, conservation and educating young hunters my ambition in life. Hunting has become as much a part of me as walking or breathing. I have been able to find myself in the silence, that silence that only you know when you sit by yourself and hear your own thoughts/ dreams and aspirations. I believe every individual must confront their true self when they sit in silence. In those moments I have found peace and comfort. I have taught myself patience, appreciation and learned to be humble. This past waterfowl season has been harder than most for many hunters. The weather never gave that great push/migration of birds, the ice would lock up many spots making it difficult to open water for the birds, and the number of birds has been staggeringly low for me and other waterfowl hunters alike. This is the season, the hunting season that brought me full circle. I was able to reflect on my hunts, my flaws, my attributes and to appreciate more than ever the animals and beauty that God does bless me with when I venture outdoors. I have also been blessed to be with organizations like Gore-Tex Hunt & Fish (Sitka), Cuter in Camo, Fowl Females and Hunt’em Down Outdoors. These organizations that provide gear or sponsor other organizations have been a teaching tool for me. The amazing ambassadors that embody these groups have given me teaching tools and encouragement. They have become as much a part of me as my own family and I greatly appreciate their words of praise and encouragement when the hunts aren’t as successful as I had hoped. Fueling me ever more greatly to continue to grow and push myself to new limits through my journey. Defining a hunter is no different that defining anyone who doesn’t hunt. The definition of what
embodies a hunter: all attributes that define any driven individual no matter what they pursue of love. A hunter is dedicated, responsible, humble, kind, patient, hard-working and driven. Those same words can be said about many people that may draw, dance or may compete in sports. We as hunters have the opportunity to sit and reflect on our successes our failures and learn and grow from every hunt. We are given moments of silence
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to appreciate our beautiful planet, the great outdoors and stand over our game and appreciate the life that was given to us for us to harvest and use to nourish our bodies. A hunter is a teacher and a student, for we grow within ourselves on every experience shared or given. I found my purpose my definition early through my father and my passion evolved through my loss. It was a series of hunting experiences that would provide the scaffolding I needed (knowledge, experience, skills and maturity) to move to the next step until the dream of my childhood would take place as an adult. What it takes to find our dream or definition is sometimes different than what we expect it would take. My dream isn’t a single destination; it unfolds
over time and continues to grow through hunting and education in pursuit of my passion. Passion can’t be stifled by fear but needs to be reinforced with respect: for the animals, community, outdoors and God. All of which I strive for every moment I’m blessed to spend outdoors. My dedication and my drive to educate other hunters and to bring more women into what I loved as a child, continues to fuel my spirit today. My dream is summarized in the Dutch expression, “the mouth spills the fullness of the heart”. My heart is full of the outdoors because it brought my life back.
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Duck Pizza Recipe By Danielle Friedman -line cookie or pizza sheet with aluminum foil and pre-heat oven to 450 degrees -1 (11-inch) premade pizza crust or flatbread -brush a thin layer of hoisin sauce on crust such as Boboli -place your onions slices on top of the sauce -hoisin sauce -place cut duck breast over sauce. I cooked my duck by searing -1/2 medium red onion, halved and sliced both sides for a few minutes and then baking it in the oven for paper thin about 5 minutes. You can prepare your duck however you like it -2 duck breast best -shredded cheese- how ever much you -sprinkle your cheese over the meat want -bake just long enough to melt the cheese and for the crust to get -cilantro leaves crispy, this will depend on what kind of crust you get and if its -Red pepper flakes (optional) pre-baked or not -after you take the pizza out of the oven place whole or chopped cilantro over the pizza while it cools -top with red pepper flakes if desired Ingredients:
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You Never Forget Your First Time By Danielle Friedman
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here is nothing like your first successful hunt, whether it be the first of the season or even better, your first hunt for new game. I experienced my first goose, duck, and turkey hunts last year, and was addicted from the start. This year, I’ve continued to go out every chance I can for goose (my first love) and duck, but added in a deer hunt this past fall as well. I had been shooting all summer with my new bow and I couldn’t wait to get out and see if what I had been practicing would pay off. I had never been rifle hunting, but I was told that bow hunting was the best way to go and that nothing could beat that feeling. I had a makeshift range set up in my backyard, complete with hay bales to set my target on, a gutter nail embedded in my tree to hang my bow, and an arrow holder to set on the ground. Every night, I would go to my backyard and practice until my shoulder would hurt. It was only 20 yards, but I had to get the basics down and I wanted it to feel natural and
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get to a point where I didn’t have to think each time about every move. Once I was comfortable in my backyard, I moved out to a football field where I could shoot even farther distances. I felt comfortable up to 35 yards, and I knew I would have to be careful not to shoot anything past that distance once I went out on a real hunt. I wanted to make sure I didn’t just wound the deer, but to kill it as quickly as possible. I knew it would be selfish of me to shoot anything farther just hoping to get lucky. After months of practicing, I was ready….at least I hoped I was. The night before the hunt, I was a nervous wreck. Was I ready? What if I made a bad shot? What if I couldn’t even climb up into the tree stand? What if I fell out of the tree? These were just some of the thoughts going through my head, but I was lucky to be going with Jerod who had helped me practice all summer. The next afternoon when we arrived at the field, I knew I was as prepared as I would ever be. I got into my harness and made the slow climb up the ladder into the tree stand, which felt a mile high. I clipped myself in, pulled up my bow, and mentally prepared myself. There were so many things that were new and distracting and I was having a hard time focusing. I’m pretty sure I almost got whiplash from twisting my head back and forth each time I heard a noise. I’ve heard the stories about how loud squirrels can be, but honestly I didn’t believe them until that afternoon. I also knew I couldn’t shoot from a sitting down position. Which meant every time I heard a noise I would grab my bow, slowly stand up, get my feet situated just so and stay as still as possible. I’m pretty sure that first hour I did that routine more than 20 times. I might as well have been at the gym doing squats with as much leg work I was doing going up and down. As a side note, the people that manage to sleep in these situations are crazy; I was so wired I thought I was going to have a heart attack. Along with being stressed about the squirrels, I was fairly certain my tree was going to blow over. I was assured ahead of time that it wouldn’t, but how could anyone really know since they couldn’t see how much I was swaying on a trunk that I was certain would snap any minute. I figured I should come up with a plan just in case I started to fall, so I mapped out my escape route and planned for the worst-case scenario. It got to be later in the afternoon when the deer normally start feeding and I received a text from Jerod on
things I needed to remember: take my time, think about all the steps, make sure I knew my distance and which pin I would use for each, and first and foremost, if I shot one, to not squeal or jump up and down. At this point, I was just going to be happy if I saw a deer let alone shoot one. About 30 minutes before shooting light ended, I saw a group of does off to my right along the tree line. I stood up again, got in my stance and waited. They slowly started moving my way; it felt like they were moving at a snail’s pace. My back leg with my weight on it started to shake and soon my whole body felt like it was vibrating. As they got closer, I pretty much forgot about everything I was supposed to remember. Luckily I had practiced enough so I didn’t have to think about any of the basics. Right when the doe was where I thought she should be
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for a good shot, I remembered I was supposed to make some sort of noise to make her stop. For the life of me, I couldn’t think of what the noise was, so I blurted out the first thing I thought of, which sounded similar to a squirrel chattering. Of course the doe heard that noise every day of her life, so it did not faze her. She ended up stopping right after that to lean down to eat, so I pulled back, took a deep breath, and released my arrow. All I saw through my sight was her jump and then run away. I had no idea if I shot her or what the hell had happened. I knew if I had hit her, I needed to visually follow her as best I could so we could track her later. As I watched her run away, she did this tumble flip thing and went down. I couldn’t believe it; I had actually hit her….either that or I had scared the crap out of her and she had a heart attack and died from the shock of it all. We waited for about 30 minutes before getting down from our tree stands to check her out. My arrow had gone through both lungs and out the other side. It was almost a perfect shot and I couldn’t have been more proud of myself, all that practice had paid off. It was a great first deer hunt and an experience I’ll never forget. Another first this season was getting one of those elusive bands I had heard so much about. I knew that it was extremely lucky to see a bird go down with one, let alone getting one for yourself, but my experience was a little more special than most I
think. That morning a few of us were out on a new field and our hopes were not high that we would have a great hunt. The birds started working early on and we got a few right away, so we were pretty excited we weren’t going to get skunked. After a couple hours, right before we were ready to start tearing down the spread, a group of five geese flew in, and once it was called, we sat up, all aimed and shot. Four went down, with a group of three landing on our right and the other on our left. Our hunting dog, Doc, went out for the retrieval and as he got closer, the guys started jumping up and down yelling that there was a band; I was just kind of staring at them like they had gone crazy. I knew bands were awesome and all, but I didn’t really think they would have gotten so excited over one.
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Off Doc went for his second retrieval while they were still talking about their luck. As Doc got closer, they started whooping and hollering again. Doc had brought us back another band. By this point, I was starting to get excited myself. It was difficult not to with all the commotion around me. As Doc made his way back with the third bird we were all attentively looking at the leg dangling from his mouth, and once more there was a band! I have never seen so much excitement in my entire life. The last bird down had no band, but that group brought one of the guys his first two bands in one hunt and my first one ever. My last first of this season may also be my favorite. I was taking my son Cody out for his first goose hunt, well technically his second, but the first one didn’t really count since we didn’t bring anything down. He helped gather everything to grass the blinds and I explained to him how he was to stay hidden until he heard us yell “shoot em”. I don’t think he was expecting to really see much but he was happy enough to be eating the snacks I had packed for him. The geese started flying soon after shooting light, so we all got in our blinds to get ready. The first set of birds we shot at brought six or seven down. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Cody so excited. He first was cheering for us and then cheering for Doc to retrieve the geese. I wasn’t sure how he was going to react seeing the geese flap around, and at first, he was a little freaked out. He was even nervous about just picking one up, but by the end of the hunt he was checking out
the inside of their beaks and asking all sorts of questions. Now that I know he enjoys going out, I can’t wait to teach him how to shoot and I know the first time he gets to go on his first real hunt will be my next all-time favorite first. I have a lot of things on my hunting bucket list that I can’t wait to experience. I’d like to go out on an elk hunt… although I suppose I should probably get my first buck before I branch out too much. I’d love to travel outside of the United States to places such as Africa or even as close as Canada to enjoy what they have to offer when it comes to hunting. There are so many firsts that I have to look forward to and I know I’ll remember every single one of them.
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Adventure on the ice By Anita Williams
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t’s not exactly what you would call a normal spring break driving to the Canadian border to fish, but that’s what I decide to do. The sun is peaking through the clouds, but doesn’t have much warmth to it yet. It’s a chilly 25 degrees. I am hungry for fresh walleye and the season is still open on Lake of the Woods. While driving north to the big body of water, I chat with Nels, the owner of Fred’s Beds. He has a sleeper shack ready for me on Four Mile Bay. It’s on the south shore of Lake of the Woods. I am in search of adventure, solitude, and just about any species of fish that is hungry for my minnow-tipped jig. Lake of the Woods is known for its walleye fishing and in fact it’s called the walleye capital of the world. Lake of the Woods is over seventy miles long, and contains more than 65,000 miles of shoreline. I meet up with Nels at Morris Point Resort and he assures me that the ice is still safe to drive on, even though I see slush and water pooling on the lake. I follow behind him in a pickup. He has plowed a road onto the ice. As we drive about three miles across the bay I see several ice shacks along a ridge. They are
small brown metal shacks set in a line about forty yards apart. I slow down when I see open water that Nels drives straight through. Its splashes like a mud puddle on a country road. Some ice is melting on the road and water sprays up on the truck. Ice is never 100% safe and I proceed with caution as I make my way through the slushy puddle. I fact; I am a bit scared! It is hard to believe that there is still 34 inches of ice under these melted sections in the road. We arrive at shack #34. This will be my home for the next couple of days. I notice two doors both have a fresh coat of white paint on them. One has a half moon carved into the door and I realize that one is the outhouse. The other leads into the small cabin. As I bring my supplies and sleeping bag into the shack Nels revs up the ice auger and drills holes in the ice. I unload coolers and pans and organize my gear. There are gas lamps and a furnace in the shack and I light the lanterns and the furnace. There are two bunk beds in the shack and I place my luggage and extra supplies in the top bunk as my guide warns that the melting ice may cause some flooding.
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Nels leaves me with a bucket of small minnows that will be tipped on a jig and dangled from my fishing rod through the hole in the floor of the shack. He also leaves me three sucker minnows; I place one on the fishing line that is tied to a rattle wheel secured to the side of the shack. I am hopeful that an aggressive northern pike will hit on the sucker. Shortly after Nels leaves I feel the first tug on my line. I set the hook and pull in an eating size sauger. I flip it into the five-gallon pail along with some ice-cold lake water. I load up anoth-
er minnow and open the bail to release the hook down the hole. Day turns into night as I pass the hours looking into the hole carved in the ice. I clean the fish and drop it into hot grease. Freshly caught sauger and walleye are flaky and delicious. I go to sleep with a full belly and dream of catching fish. I wake early and put a fresh minnow on my hook and open the bail on my fishing reel. It’s too early to get dressed and I find its one of life’s simple pleasures to be able to wake up and have a fishing hole two steps from my bed. I will get dressed for the day only after I catch my fist fish. It doesn’t take long before I see the bobber drop below the surface of the water. A walleye is pulling at my minnow. I set the hook and reel him in. The next few days are filled with the monotony of reeling in several fish. It is a simple pleasure and a nice way to clear my mind. No computer, TV or radio can be heard. The silence is broken only by the revving of a pickup or snowmobile as it roars past the shack, and by the occasional jingle of the rattle wheel as a northern pike hits the sucker minnow hard. When I hear the jingle, that’s my cue to get gloves on, gently pull on the line and when the northern is on, jerk the line up to set the hook. The gloves keep the wet line from slipping through my fingers as I pull in the pike.
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Lake of the Woods may be the walleye capital of the world but this spring-break fishing trip not only produces walleyes for me, but also sauger, northern pike and tullibee. And something special happened; I learned that the cold and silence at the dawning of spring near the Canadian border is not like any other spring break that I have witnessed. The silence is not a lonely silence but more of a reflective and meditating silence. When I listen, really listen, nature’s ice comforts and warms me in a magical way. Anita lives in Grand Rapids, MN and is the mother of two adult children. She has been a hairstylist for thirty years. Her empty nest allows time to pursue interests of photography, bowhunting, fishing, travel and food. She is a graduate of Itasca Community College with an emphasis on wildlife, and Quality Deer Managements level one stewardship program. You can follow her on facebook and youtube.
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African Tiger Fishing By Roxsean (Rocky) Edwards
Adventure fishing has been added to my list of ‘must have’ fishing experiences and I got to tick the box on a trip to Africa recently.
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P1040247 - me with close up of tiger fish mouth
here are numerous travel options for adventure fishing, but Africa is different in that it also offers an unrivalled wildlife experience. My trip incorporated a week of wildlife safaris and a visit to one of nature’s wonders of the world, Victoria Falls. I had never visited Africa and purposely did little research into what I may experience. Africa and its fauna are widely covered in all forms of media, movies and theatre that can be a spoiler for your own trip. I prefer my trip to be about discovery and surprises so I tend to ignore someone else’s prescriptive tales of their journey and only research what medications and visas I would need to obtain for the country I intend to visit.
View of Victoria Falls from Zimbabwe
Sun setting with a view of Victoria Falls, Zambia
My tour operator Matt Collins from Tourica Tours is an African Tour specialist and his company custom design trips to all parts of Africa that will incorporate fishing, golfing, bushwalking or any other activity that you may like to pursue. Matt accompanied our trip along with a dozen like minded anglers from around Australia and New Zealand. Also on the trip was one of Australia’s well known fishing identities, Alex Julius who is a magazine publisher, TV producer and presenter and the owner /operator of a world class fishing lodge in a remote region of Northern Australia known as the Arnhemland Barramundi Nature Lodge. Alex is a friend of mine and is also from my home town and it was terrific to be in such good angling company.
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The first leg of my journey was a week of game drives in Klaserie, a private game reserve in South Africa that forms part of the well known Kruger National Park. Our group were accommodated at Baobab Ridge Lodge and we had the entire facility and its staff to ourselves. The schedule was for two game drives per day with the first commencing early at around 6am. We would head back to the lodge at around 11am for a home cooked brunch and a few hours of free time where we could relax in the comfort of our own chalet or in the common lounge areas of the lodge. The vehicles were typical of the tiered seating jeeps that you see in the movies or tour brochures and they offer optimum viewing for all passengers keen to get their own glimpse or images of Africa’s Big 5. It was a surreal feeling to encounter wild African animals and only within moments of leaving the lodge gates. A herd of elephants, then giraffes and minutes later a large herd of buffalo. The second game drive would set out at around 3pm and sometimes stay out quite late to attempt night sightings under spotlight. I thoroughly enjoyed being in the front seat with the spot light in hand hoping to be the first to spot the red eyes of Africa’s famous predator animals at night under the magnificence of an African night sky. Our group saw a vast number of animals and birdlife and it was surprising to see creatures made famous by Disney movies and animations coexisting in the same area. Over the period of our week of game drives we were able to locate animals we were there to see as well as many we never knew existed.
Giraffes in Klaserie
Elephants in Klaserie
We left South Africa and headed for Lusaka , the capital of Zambia to make our way to the Zambezi River and to spend a week fishing. This part of our journey we travel led by light aircraft to a remote part of Zambia on route to Mozambique . The 45 minute flight enabled us to capture a bird’s eye view of this amazing part of Africa. Flying on light aircraft does have strict weight restrictions and I prefer to take my own fishing gear and tackle on my trips. I spent a great deal of time packing and repacking my duffle bag and rod Rocky with luggage at the dirt airstrip, tube to achieve the less than 33lb weight restriction. Toiletries and waiting for our light aircraft, Zambia clothing fared poorly when considering what rods, reels and lures were on the ‘must go’ pile. After all, fishing was my primary purpose for the trip. Before landing on the remote dirt airstrip of Luangwa Feira , we ‘buzzed’ over the runway to scare off the cows that had gathered to graze on the very little vegetation on the edges of the strip. There are few planes that land here and as soon as we touched down a mass of children gathered at the end of the runway to welcome a new compliment of visitors. They were terribly curious and willing posers for our cameras. We loaded ourselves and our luggage on board utilities and vans and made our way to the immigration office to check in and out of Arrival at Luangua dirt airstrip with children Zambia. A short time later we gathered at the river’s edge to meet welcoming arrivals the a number of small boats that would take us on the next chapter
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of our journey. We made our way down river and crossed over to the Mozambique side of the river where we once again made our way to another immigration office to check into the country. Each of these journeys required us to walk through villages and gave us a small insight into African village and river life in a place not often frequented by tourists. Village people in front of Our destination was Chawalo Safaris, a lodge speBaobab tree, Mozambique cialising in game hunting and fishing. The lodge was built on the banks of the river under a massive baobab tree and the common areas were decorated in hand made weapons and guns, axe styled implements, traps and skulls of elephants or hippos. At the back of the property I discovered a skinning shed that had various skins on drying racks along with bilton, which are strips of dried and spiced meat from buffalo and elephant a and similar to beef jerky. The common areas of the Hippo Skull at Chawalo Lodge, Mozambique lodge were decked out with comfortable couch- Handmade guns displayed at es, dining tables and a help yourself bar, this was Chawalo Lodge, Mozambique the perfect place to enjoy a local beer or wine and watch the life of the river wade or row past Immigration office and checking into Zambia
I developed a real curiosity about game hunting and each evening the owner operator of the lodge would join us and our dinner conversations gave us ample opportunities to discuss game hunting in Mozambique. I learnt a lot and have a much better understanding of the positive impact game hunting has on the wildlife and particularly threatened species in these parts. The Dining area, Chawalo Lodge, lodge employed former poachers as their game hunting guides who would also double as anti-poaching teams or fishing guides when the game huntMozambique ing was in recess. Without these teams, the poachers would have unimpeded access to a great deal of animals and particularly the seriously threatened rhino. This strategy alone does not stop poaching but it does make a big difference. The game hunting has governed limits and the guides are careful that breeding animals are not targets. Quite often an older ‘bachelor’ of a herd would be the target for hunters, just as it is for predator animals looking for a meal. The fourth largest river in Africa, the majestic Zambezi, flows a distance of 1678 miles and in parts can reach nearly 5 miles in width. This river is home to Africa’s best freshwater game fish, the Tiger fish. A vast series of channels and floating reed islands span the river and are also home to elephants, hippos and crocodiles. I live in the Northern Territory of Australia and fish along man eating crocodiles in all our waterways. I Fishing boats at pontoon with felt at home on this river fishing alongside African Fishing on the Zambezi River at river ferry in the background, sunset, Mozambique crocodiles, but very wary of the elephants and the Zambezi River hippos that live in this river. You hear many stories about how humans top the list of hippo kills and I certainly did not want to add to these statistics. Our guides were experienced on hippo behaviour and were able to identify any
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snorts or movements that serve as warnings that you are getting too close. Generally if the hippo knows you are there and you don’t encroach on their space, then you can safely fish around them. We had an incident where we slowly drifted along a reed bank casting toward the bank as we drifted. Without notice we heard something huge making its way through the reeds to then lunge directly from the bank and into the river narrowly missing the back of our boat. I am not sure whether we or the hippo was more surprised, but had we drifted a little slower we may have had a collision with this hippo and we and the boat would have been in serious trouble. In waters that also have man eating crocodiles, this could have end- Another spectacular Zambezi River sunset, Mozambique ed very badly indeed. The tiger fish is an aggressive predator, extremely agile and sports razor sharp interlocking teeth. It is often compared to the South American Piranha. Its scientific name is Hydrocynus vittatus which translates as ‘Striped Water Dog”. It is abundant in the Zambezi River and has been known to reach weights up to 20lbs. A trophy fish would weigh around 10lbs or more so our target was to capture a fish over 10lbs. Tiger fish in net with Each day we set out on 5 boats that comfortably seated 3 anglers per boat. Tiger Waka in mouth The lodge provided all gear, food and drinks for our expeditions, however I and a few other anglers had brought along our own fishing gear and tackle. I packed various rods, but exclusively used an Australian made Live Fibre Venom Black Bass rod that is medium to heavy and able to strike without ripping the lure right out of the fish’s mouth. I teamed this up with a Shimano spinning reel the Stradic 4000 Ci4 and the combination was excellent for fighting Tiger Fish.
Most of the Tiger Fish were captured using Tiger Wakas that were made of a spinning copper plated brass blade with a prism sticker. Steel wire formed the length and had copper or plastic bearings fitted with a large single Mustad hook. The blade would spin and vibrate providing an attractant for the tigerfish. We added a strip of bait along the hook which increased the bite rate 10 fold. Some of the anglers were successful using hard bodied lures, but overall the Tiger Waka was the “go to lure” over our week of fishing. The Tiger fish jump with amazing agility and their bite is vicious. During our nightly campfire stories we would marvel over lure fatalities and many lost fish. This was one fish that could have you beat and we learnt early that you could not get to cocky when attempting to land this fish.
Close up of a Tiger Waka with Mustad Hook
My friend Alex had fought Tiger Fish on several other trips in this region and over the course of the week he had modified techniques and his gear to optimise his bite rate and I paid particular attention. Braid is highly visible in clear water so long flourocarbon leaders are essential. You would have a better bite rate and a good option for smaller fish but no match for trophy sized fish. Tigers can bite through the thickest of leader line and even thin steel cable so wire traces were the only option if you were targeting the larger fish. I got to test the new Mustad Fastach clips which made lure changes so much easier and faster than using the conventional snap clips. It’s an amazingly simple design that has changed snap clips forever. My lures were fitted with large single fine gauge hooks with a wide gape that could penetrate the hook around the bony mouth of the Tiger Fish giving me a chance at keeping the fish hooked. This fish was amazingly fast and hard to work out what direction it was heading in or where it was in the water so you needed every possible advantage.
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Some of the crew preferred lighter spin gear and this also worked, but the lighter outfits would succumb to a trophy sized fish. My personal success came from casting Tiger Wakas and I estimated that I cast around 500 times a day if not more with only 10-20% of these casts getting a bite and possibly only 1% of these converting to a landed fish. You have to be a diehard angler to tolerate these statistics, but the satisfaction of landing a trophy sized Tiger Fish is the greatest reward for the effort you put in. We did improve on these statistics by gang hooking the single Mustad hook on the Tiger Wakas and leaving little chance for the Tiger to get away with just ripping the bait away from the hook. I caught my fair share of fish and my best fish for the trip was 8lbs and above average in size for this part of the Zambezi River. My trip concluded with a few days exploring the majestic Victoria Falls which was not far from where we were fishing. After 2 weeks of game drives and fishing it was time to clean up and unwind, I was accommodated at the Royal Livingstone Hotel and was spoiled with luxury surrounds and service. Where else can you wander the gardens amongst zebras and giraffes grazing on the lawns of a hotel? I got to walk with lions and view Victoria Falls from a helicopter. I also ventured along the edge of the falls along walking tracks in both Zambia and Zimbabwe. On my last day I also visited Botswana and spent the day on a boat on the Chobe River seeing a vast amount of bird life living amongst the elephants, hippos and crocodiles.
Me with aTiger fish, Mozambique
Throughout the entire trip the accommodation and the food were excellent. It is not every day that you get the opportunity to taste the wildlife of Africa, and it was really very good. I would be living a divine existence if ever I have another opportunity to dine on Ostrich steak or a Wildebeest Schnitzel. African buffalo drinking You really don’t need to pack much on such a venture to Africa. A small to medium backpack is all you need to carry emergency medications and to items like a camera, bottle of water, snacks and a jumper for chilly mornings and evenings. You need to also carry important travel documents, passports, your phone and charger and of course money.
Hippos in the Chobe River, Botswana
Fishing, safari and bushwalking clothing is all similar and I found that a couple of pairs of light long pants and vented long sleeved shirts, a couple of pair of shorts, T-shirts, underwear, a pair of jeans and a jumper would suffice. I also took a good pair of walking shoes and closed in sandals. At every game lodge and hunting/fishing lodge there are staff that will launder daily and this service can be part of the deal or at a very minimal cost. I was able to carry an additional 10kgs on my return trip to Australia and had plenty of room in my bag to buy a few gifts and souvenirs. There were no real shopping opportunities during our trip, but I did get to enjoy a little time shopping at some local markets on my last day in Zambia and in some duty free stores on my journey home.
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I was very fortunate to have an expert tour operator in Matt Collins and would highly recommend him and to anyone wanting a custom designed and ‘cut above’ trip to Africa. Matt can be contacted via email at matt@touricatours.com We were provided the best there was on offer in accommodation and travel and our comfort was always a priority. Catching a Tiger Fish was at the top of my angling adventures bucket list and it was sensational that this trip also incorporated spectacular African safaris and encounters with African wildlife. Roxsean (Rocky) Edwards
Women and babies, Mozambique
Zebras in the gardens of the Royal Livingstone hotel, Livingstone, Zambia
Drying strips of spiced and marinated meat to make Biltong
Dan Power dancing with village children, Mozambique
herd of elephants, Chobe River Botswana
Collecting water in the village, Mozambique
Lion cubs, Botswana
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Big fish, bright future: Bristol Bay River Academy engages fish-minded local youth By: Jenny Lynes
Photo by Jenny Lynes
I
t has been raining almost constantly since the students arrived. The young adults of the 2014 Bristol Bay River Academy are piled in a red conversion van, bouncing down a dirt road on the way to the Newhalen river, about five miles from the town center of the rural town of Iliamna, Alaska.
Photo by Jenny Lynes
I join along relatively new to Alaska and curious to learn about the culture of these teenagers from the rural communities of Bristol Bay. And, of course, eager to see some big fish. The trip is my first to the region and I’m intrigued by everything. The miles of rolling tundra outside the van windows in lieu of strip malls and concrete. The students’ familiarity with harvesting local resources for food all year round, whether foraged, hunted or caught. The impossible beauty of the place they live. It’s hard to wrap my brain around this becoming mundane to anyone, and yet the chatter on our short journey is normal teenage stuff - back to school preparation and something someone saw on Instagram.
Photo by Jenny Lynes
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Lower 48), but also that it could be a place for discussions that lead to better understanding between commercial, sport and subsistence fishing families and communities within the region. Bristol Bay sits in a remote corner of Southwest Alaska and is home to world-class fishing, routinely bringing in anglers from around the country who pay upwards of $10,000 for a week of guided fishing and full-service lodging. Although the lodge industry is bustling, for local residents it’s the generations-old traditional fishing, and a thriving commercial sockeye fishery valued at $1.5 billion annually that life revolves around. Fishing, Photo by Anders Gustafson Once we park at the river, the students don rain in its many shapes and forms, is a way of life in jackets and waders and begin setting up their fly Bristol Bay. rods. For most of them, it’s their second time ever to do so if you include practicing in a baseball di- Sport fishing is decidedly not a way of life for the 13 students of the River Academy’s 2014 class. Yet. amond the morning before. In its six years, the Bristol Bay River Academy has graduated 66 students from the weeklong riverside course that trains local youth from the Bristol Bay region of Alaska to be fishing guides on their home rivers, which happen to be located in a world-class fishing destination. Eight of the past graduates are now employed full-time in lodges. Each year’s class shows promise from a number of young women anglers, with the 2014 class being a majority female. Sitting in a maqi (the native Yup’ik word for steam bath), the Academy was dreamt up by a Bristol Bay Tribal Elder, Luki Akelkok and the director of the local land trust, Tim Troll. The two recognized not only the value in having lodges hire local fishing guides (as opposed to flying them up from the
Photo by Anders Gustafson
Photo by Chris Little
At the onset, Academy Instructor and owner of Alaska Sportsman’s Bear Trail Lodge, Nanci Morris Lyon, showed the kids the basics: a few knots, how to assemble and set up a reel. They spent the afternoon at the baseball diamond to practice casting. As you can imagine with a group of bright high school and college youth, from here their expertise skyrocketed. Soon, they began tying flies of all colors and varieties and landing them delicately on the water through looped casts indistinguishable from experienced veterans. They bring in coho and eat them for lunch with regularity during the course of the week. While this is important and thrilling to watch, fishing is really only part of the reason they have come. Students also complete extensive conversations with guest speakers from the community and
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among one another on river ecology and conservation. They learn customer service best practices and river etiquette, building valuable job skills for many industries along the way. After a couple days on the water and in the classroom, they pay a visit to a high-end lodge to listen to the owners describe qualities of successful guides, both in terms of fishing knowledge and generally what it means to be a good employee. The students are riveted with the job opportunity in their backyard, and the conversation about tipping practices for the guide staff doesn’t hurt either. The students are impressive, so it is not hard to imagine them holding the jobs they hear about all week, or even eventually employing a host of guides themselves someday. They stand out in the river and in the rain for hours and I don’t hear a single complaint. Rhiannon, age 15, tells me during a break that last weekend, she harvested her first black bear while out hunting with her family – and she shot it herself. Adam, age 18, tells me that he is going to college this fall, but plans to come back in the summers to guide as part of his family’s business, which flies in tourists to Bristol Bay. Sarah, 17, isn’t sure about college yet, but she knows from her time commercial fishing on the Bay that she wants to be outside, and that guiding is an attractive way to make that possible. The town of Iliamna where the 2014 Academy is located has two small general stores, where you can buy everything from a tank of gas, a $4 tomato, new silverware, miscellaneous hardware, and a café mocha. There is little else to the town itself, situated along the north shore of Alaska’s largest lake, with just a few lodges, post office, community center, general store and small airport, and yet the students keep incredibly busy. They hunt and fish with their families. They snow machine in the winter and attend school. They talk incessantly about basketball, and buzz with excitement when I tell them I read in the paper that Dillingham, a community an hour away by airplane, is getting a Subway restaurant this fall. When asked what she’ll do after the course ends, Iliamna high school student Brittney said she would keep practicing this summer so she can become a
Photo by Anders Gustafson
guide and have money for school. Like Brittney, these kids understand that success comes from hard work in a way that many kids I grew up with in the suburbs never did, until eventually finding out the hard way. The wicked smart kids of the Academy may not go to college, but the skills they pick up during the week may well stick with them for the rest of their lives. There are not a lot of jobs in this or many parts of rural Alaska, but guiding is a constant as long as the rivers are healthy and the salmon keep returning each summer to spawn. Ultimately, it’s these young leaders who will make decisions about Bristol Bay’s world-class salmon, their communities and rivers. The Academy equips these young students with unique skills and provides a window to an industry oozing with potential, right out their own back doors. As guides, lodge owners or sport fishing industry employees, they can help ensure that the thousands of visitors who come to Bristol Bay for the love of fishing, leave knowing of and become more engaged in the conservation decisions facing the region.
Photo by Mac Minard
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Photo by Jenny Lynes
students to develop their professional, fishing, and complex thinking skills to be applied recreationally or professionally later in life. In addition to these key takeaways, it develops untraditional friendships and lifelong anglers among youth who may have never held a fly rod or understood that a fish could be safely released back to the river. Equally impressive, thanks to the support from a number of community partners, students are able to participate completely for free, all the way down to a $20 tip provided to each community client for their guide at the end of client day, as long as they think they deserve it.
This set of local river knowledge is just one bonus to hiring local employees. In addition to their existing knowledge of the rivers, they aren’t fazed by the sometimes-uncooperative weather, they know what to do when approached by a bear, and can answer timeless questions from visiting Lower 48 anglers (“How dark does it get in the winter?”). Rhiannon tells me which Yup’ik words she’d teach her clients, and Tyler knows the good fishing spots to try first. It’s clear the students don’t need the hours of basic regional training that out of state guides receive, not to mention $1,000+ plane tickets to and from work for the season.
Photo by Mac Minard
In order to instill a sense of commitment and urgency in the training, the last full day of the guide academy is “Client Day” where community members join their new guide for a safe, and hopefully fun day on the water for both of them. Students nervously prepare for it all week, feeling the pressure of wanting to succeed with a brand new skill.
As client day come and went, the students expertly led their clients to the fish, and both the students and “clients” came back with great stories to tell. Fish were caught by young newbies and experienced adults. They shared stories, tips and eventually, a meal back at the lodge. Clients spoke fondly of their time in the water with the students and expressed gratitude for the program sharing such important skills with their local youth. The Bristol Bay River Academy is a chance for rural
Photo by Mac Minard
Student Shoshone said of the week on client day, “I’m really glad we learned so much about customer service, how to communicate with your clients, and about fly fishing. And I think it was the best experience I’ve had in a while.”
Bristol Bay River Academy is a project of Bristol Bay Heritage Land Trust, Bristol Bay Native Corporation, and Trout Unlimited. Thanks to the support from these organizations as well as The Orvis Company, Bristol Bay Economic Development Corporation, Bureau of Land Management, Alaska Conservation Foundation, University of Alaska Fairbanks – Bristol Bay Campus, and many other community supporters, the course is offered free of charge to 12-15 students each year.
Photo by Jenny Lynes
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Women’s Under Armour Hunting Boots By Teresa Depalma After trying several different rubber style hunting boots, the Women’s Under Armour H.A.W. 800g are my favorite. Just like in Muck brand boots… these boots come in whole sizes only. These UA boots are true to size. I wear a 7 in a regular shoe and that is what I wear in these as well. They fit great with a little extra room for a thick sock. However, that was not true for me with the Muck brand boot. I have bought and tried on several different styles from Muck and can’t seem to get the right fit. The size 7 are way too big, even with thick sock and their size 6 is way too small. I’m sure this is not the case for a lot of other women, so I am just speaking for myself when I say I feel the Under Armour brand is more true to size. The size is my biggest pro for this boot for obvious reasons. If they don’t fit, they don’t work! Secondly I love the flexibility in them, I wear them not just for hunting but also while doing many chores around my property, such as checking cameras, hanging stands or just trekking through the woods looking for sheds in the off season. My property has a vast amount of rugged terrain and I can manage any of it in these boots. From a variety of hills to the nastiest of swamps to bowling bowl sized rocks piles to just regular old flat woods. These boots are also very lightweight and being small framed and not super athletic, I need a light boot so I don’t I tire too quickly.
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They are 100% waterproof which is very important to me since my property consist of a lot of streams and swampy areas. Another thing that I personally like is the internal heel lock memory foam. It forms to your foot for a secure fit which is good for those swampy areas as well. My foot doesn’t come up out of the boot when stomping through mud. However it can be a little tough when trying to get it on or off because of that feature but still feel it is a good trade off. They do have a super strong pull strap on the back to get them on and after wearing these through several season it has yet to tear and I have definitely put my fair share of tugs on them. Also the tread on the bottom is very thick and I have not had a single issue with traction in any terrain. I wear them through every season of hunting. During the warmer spring hunting months, I wear a lighter sock and do not have an issue with sweating. I have yet to find any hunting product that is 100% perfect, so with all the pros there has to be at least one con. The only issue I have with these boots is the insulation factor. They are 800g insulation, which to most is an acceptable amount to keep their tootsies warm. Since I have been told that I have poor blood circulation, my opinion in the ol’warmth factor may not be that valuable because I do have to wear disposable foot warmers inside of them when hunting in cold weather. However, I have gotten the same feedback from several other women, so I feel that it is important enough to share. I believe the rubber area especially by the toes could definitely be much more lined and insulated. Once the rubber gets cold it seems that my feet do too, almost immediately, which makes this con a big factor to me. But I do sacrifice having to add the foot warmers in them for the durability and comfort I feel wearing them. Overall I personally recommend this boot for the active outdoor girl like myself. I have been wearing them for a few years now and plan to continue. They are my #1 “go to” hunting boot so I wanted to share with all my fellow huntresses. - Teresa DePalma Through Camo Eyes
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NOT Your Average Huntress By Gregory Harkness
M
eet Marcie Mae. Not your average Huntress. (Although I have never met an “average” Huntress. You are all amazing!)
A little over six decades ago, deep in the heart of Colorado’s San Luis Valley, Marcie was born into a rural agricultural family. Like most people in that time and place, her family were meat hunters of necessity as much as by choice. Shortly after starting grade school, she moved to Greeley, Colorado with her parents and siblings. Her extended family continued to hunt, but in those times, “girls” rarely did so and she was no exception. She lived a typical urban lifestyle, married, raised a family of her own in an suburban setting in the Denver suburbs, reassessed significant portions that lifestyle, made changes and completely forgot about hunting...... and then suddenly, about 20 years ago, life took an interesting turn. She married a Hunter. Not just any Hunter, but a Hunter from the plains of Southeast Colorado who considered the opening day of deer season to be a Holy Day in his religion. For the first 10 years of this marriage, she was content to tag along with The Hunter and became a superb game spotter and all-around outdoor companion. Many, many deer, elk and antelope made their way from field to freezer through her kitchen “butcher shop” .... After her keen eyes located them in their hiding place.
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Her life changed again in 2005 when she made the decision to get her own deer license. This was not a sudden resolution. As each new hunting season came and went, her desire to take a more personal responsibility for her food supply increased. The need to fully experience, that which Nature offers, but does not freely give us, became a primary goal. It’s a quantum leap from interested observer to active participant. The conscious choice to pull a trigger or loose an arrow and end a life, be it for meat or trophy, and to do so ethically and cleanly, closes a circle that many are unable to enter. One bright December morning, no doubt in her mind, and with steady hands of clear intent, while concealed above a cutbank overlooking a deep, winding prairie arroyo, a Huntress was born. The rest, as they say, is history. Six deer and three elk later, she continues to hunt. She is an outstanding markswoman.....usually taking her quarry with one-shot kills ranging out to 300 yards.
Her hunting hit a major speedbump in January of 2010 when a Macular Hole was discovered in her left eye. A friend had come to visit for the New Years Day holiday, and brought with him his prized M1 Garand complete with a classic peep sight. Never one to shy away from something new , she fired a few rounds through it and then looked at her target through the spotting scope. Unlike the smooth circle of the sight, the vertical lines on the target were wavy...broked by a jagged edge. Without a doubt, something was drastically wrong with her eye.....a critical defect that would have gone unnoticed until too late had she not spent an afternoon on the range. Emergency surgery and excellent treatment saved the vision in that eye, and that next fall she successfully took her by now, “usual deer”. Unfortunate but expected complications resulting from the treatments caused cataracts in both eyes, and each of her natural lenses were replaced within the next year. A happy coincidence from the cataract surgery was that her vison was now nearly perfect in both eyes without the prior necessity of eyeglasses. The eyes of a Huntress miss very few things. In the spring of 2013 she drew a coveted Ranching For Wildlife antlerless elk tag on our favorite hunting locale in South Central Colorado. The big ranch covers a 60,000 acre expanse of mesas, riparian valleys, dense pinon and juniper woods, and rugged mountains, upland forests of ponderosa pine, white fir and aspen along with vast meadows. We’ve hunted there for fifteen wonderful years and never
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come home empty handed....although sometimes the task has been challenging. To draw is never a certain thing and it often takes several years to accumulate the necessary points. Over the years the seasons have been moved from November into January and the weather has become a big factor in the strenuousness and difficulty of the hunt. It became extraordinarily more difficult when in May of that year she heard those words no woman ever wants to hear...”There is something unusual in your mamogram”. Biospies followed and the worst was confirmed...a malignancy was growing there that was going to drastically change her life.....or end it. The tests seemed endless, but eventually a treatment plan was confirmed that involved major surgery, a lumpectomy, and radiation in early June....to be supplimented by daily anti-cancer meds for the next 5 years. It became a summer that tested every belief that she held dear, every relationship, every value. The valleys of despair and the canyons of uncertainty became familiar territory. Hunting wild game was not something she gave a lot of thought to. Instead, an unmerciful, uncaring and unrelenting predator was hunting her. Fairness had always been an absolute cornerstone in both her life, and in her pursuit of the deer and elk she so dearly loved, and there is nothing more unfair than Cancer. At summer’s end medical science and Faith had triumphed and she became one of the “Lucky Ones’. This Huntress faced down her fears and put a silver bullet of hope deep into her pursuer. By late fall her strength was returning, the skies were clearing and the promise of tomorrow had returned. In December she announced her intentions to hunt elk after the first of the year....no matter the weather.....just to prove to herself that cancer couldn’t take away the important things in her life. You go, Girl! Opening morning in early January 2014 found us with boots on the ground before sunrise and snow falling.....with the temperature well below zero. Tough day. The next two were even tougher with much more snow and intense cold....minus 13 at sunrise on day three...and the temperatures never rising above 20....although the sun did shine a bit. On the third day, son Sean joined us and our search grew wider with his younger, stronger legs seeking out higher vantage points. The snow became deeper, and the miles of walking through it seemingly longer but her tenacity never wavered. Large numbers of fresh tracks, a few sightings..... But no shooting opportunities. By the end of the fourth day she was cold, tired, sore and a bit discouraged....but no less resolved to give it another try. The morning of the Fifth day we relocated to a portion of the ranch we had never hunted before. Luck was with us as we--she--spotted grazing elk just at first light. They were the better part of a mile away, across a wide valley full of sage and chico and on the other side of a icy, deeply entrenched ravine. As quietly as possible, she and Sean exited the truck. I drove on in faint light for another mile up the valley.....out of sight and unseen, where I parked and headed for the far end of the ridge above them.....not hunting but hoping to be a “blocker” if the elk moved in that direction. For awhile I could observe the small band of cows and spike bulls as they slowly moved out of the valley and upward on to the adjacent rocky ridge. The top of the escarpment was covered with dense pinon and juniper and shooting opportunities would be slim in such heavy cover. I hoped the elk would pause on their way up the steep incline. The small valleys within the bluffs soon obscured their presence and I could only trust that The Huntress and Sean were closing the distance between themselves and the herd. Nearly an hour later
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as I approached the top of the ridge, I heard one shot ring out, closely followed by another. I could tell by the sound of the report that it was her .270 WSM and not Sean’s .308. The sun was now completely over the horizon and at my back and I felt they could see me in my orange coat, so I hurried up the open, golden grass at the east end of the rise. The whole mountainside was now bright with alpenglow and in a short time I met them on the ridgeline. There was much consternation on their part because they had both seen the cow leap and kick her legs horizontally at the impact of the 2nd shot....but all there was to show for it were two sets of tracks heading northwest and a single large drop of blood. When two cows had walked into a small opening Sean did not have a clean line of sight so only Marcie had fired. She felt she had a solid hit and he agreed. We followed the beckoning tracks in fresh powder for almost an hour until they disappeared into open, frozen snowless terrain. No more blood was seen. My Huntress was extremely dejected at this turn of events. Not so much because she had apparently missed, but because she felt like she had wounded an animal and left it suffering. We slowly and carefully backtracked and returned to the site of the original drop of blood. More dejection and soul-searching on the part of The Huntress. Then.....I noticed another set of tracks that we had somehow overlooked on the earlier assessment.... and followed them 10 steps to the northeast. Blood everywhere......and 20 yards away, piled up against a shaggy pine tree on the downslope of the ridge.....a big, beautiful.....and very, very dead cow elk. Absolute jubilation and tears all around! No high-fives...... just smiles, hugs, congratulations and a sincere thanks to the Creator for this gift and to the spirit of the elk for presenting herself. My Huntress was back! All the way! The bullet had passed through the very top of the heart.....from 298 yards downslope. Marcie explained that when she fired the first shot....from a steady rest against a pinon tree....she had elevated it to the top of the cows’ back because she thought the long range warranted it....thinking only of the distance and forgetting momentarily that the rifle was zeroed for 1 inch low at 300 yards. The round impacted neither elk or rock and so she realized it was a high,clean miss. When the elk did not move, she quickly dropped her point of aim and took the second shot. The set-up was nearly perfect.....quarry just below the ridgeline... broadside to her and illuminated by the first rays of daylight in the cold, clear air. How could she miss.....? After the impact of the round, neither hunter had seen the cow turn and step over the ridge, move northeast into the timber and fall. Proving the age old adage is still true......never, ever give up On anything worth having. The Huntress got her deer again this fall......and come April I’m sure another Ranching For Wildlife application will get filled out. The daily anti-cancer meds have taken a bit of a toll on her strength, so the future may hold more stand hunting and less spot and stalking. but her heart is still with the deer and elk, and she will cherish her role as Huntress far into the future. Still and all, there are our Grandaughters whose eyes have yet to see the wilderness at dawn and who likely will learn to gather their own sustenance in ancient and honorable ways. She will be a great teacher.
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THE TWINS By Sharlene Todd
It’s so enjoyable sharing hunting stories. We all look for occasions in a conversation when we can ‘slip in’ a memory of a hunt. It seems just as exciting as the day it happened. I have the same experience when sharing an event I’ve journaled. Thanks for listening! Nov. 25th 2011 Evening hunt started early ~ At 2:25 I was sitting on my bench under MY pinetree. Brought a cushion for my back~ oh so comfortable. Dick (my husband) choose a treestand. About 4:10 I spotted a deer straight ahead of me ,walking near the apple trees on the side of a narrow road. I knew I was going to shoot! After letting a couple small ones go the past few weeks I was not waiting any longer. Besides it ‘looked tall’. I knew she did not see me as I was about 70 yds away. I stood and took my shot. I was so surprised that she simply stood there. I was sure I had hit her and thought she was just not ready to drop. A seasoned hunter would have taken a second shot faster then I did but I was just awed by her just standing there..nose to ground and weaving back and forth. I use a Thompson Center G2 Contender, thus one shot is all I get. When I realized I had to take another I reloaded drew up and yet another realization of not yet being seasoned, I had forgotten to pull the hammer back. I did this as fast as I could but it takes two hands for me to accomplish this..sometimes! Well I shot and down she went right where she was standing on the left side of the road. I radioed Dick, told him I got one. He replied “be right up.” I packed my gear and started walking down the road. As I approached my kill I noticed something white on the right side of the road across from my deer. NOW this realization took awhile for my brain to process..well a few seconds!!!! I KNOW A DEAD DEER WHEN I SEE ONE. There was one on each side of the road. Dick seemed as surprised as I was when he drove up and I pointed to both of them. I then figured I had not seen the first one drop (my grandson later said I had not followed through on my scope) and when I lowered my gun all I saw was the one that I thought I had shot and it hadn’t died YET!!!. Now Dick’s analysis was this. They were twins and said that deer do react in shock like that when a shot is fired. Yeh Dick I had heard that shock part before and was pretty sure these two were related
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ha! Course then he had to add she was probably sad and was doing the weaving back and forth thing because her twin sister just died in front of her. Well I did not plan this ~ just one of those weird events. I ‘think’ Dick then gave me a compliment when he said “ you must be a good shot if you can kill two that little at 70 yds.” Of course I would never had killed the second had I known I had killed the first. Fortunately we had two doe tags. Planning ahead already. So tomorrow we have to hunt for horns..One buck tag left! Dick said I can shoot any size. He is so thoughtful. How fast he was dressing the twins, getting them on the truck and of course taking pictures and watching me perform my spirit ritual~ one streak of blood from each deer on my face as I gave thanks to their spirits. It is good to remember.. in relating stories to other hunters.. they want to be heard also. When we listen to them and comment on their experiences rather then interjecting our own confirms we truly have listened..Guess that is a lesson for any conversations not just hunting ones. But hunting conversations are the best in my book well in my journal!
A loss for words…. I grew up thinking perhaps I was a bit of an odd duck. Maybe it was that most of my girlfriends would rather shop or hang out at the spa rather than go fishing. I have turned down many a “much needed” massage in favour for the fight of a tasty salmon. Many times I have tried to convince my girlfriends to come out with me and give fishing a try. I would try to find the proper words to convince them of the feeling that overcomes you when you are able to drop all of your problems and leave them behind on the shore. Even though I have been blessed with the gift of gab, I could never find those words until recently. The words were actually not words but a picture I took on an early September morning.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words! Need I say more? Stacey Lynn Urbshott Owen Sound, ON Lyman Lures and HOTFISH spoons and flies Pro-staff