Things that keep you hunting year after year
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KINGMAX
Member
Hunting - a personal sport
I feel as if hunting is a personal sport. You make the decision to take it, or let it go by to be hunted another day. Every trip out is different, no two hunts are the same. Every hour I savor, placing them into my memory to be recalled and shared w/ other hunters, talking a language that only another real hunter would understand and appreciate.
Take care of our land - Leave it better than you found it.
Take a girl hunting, she will love you for it !!!!!!!!
I feel as if hunting is a personal sport. You make the decision to take it, or let it go by to be hunted another day. Every trip out is different, no two hunts are the same. Every hour I savor, placing them into my memory to be recalled and shared w/ other hunters, talking a language that only another real hunter would understand and appreciate.
Take care of our land - Leave it better than you found it.
Take a girl hunting, she will love you for it !!!!!!!!
What I love about huntin'
The day waking up. Listening for the first bird to chirp in the morning. Clear crisp morning, a buck easing down the side of a draw. Seeing his breath in two snorts from his nostrils. Spending time with my son when he was young, sitting in the stand, wrapped up in a quilt, waiting on me to wake him up and tell him, "there's a deer". Spending time with him now, when it's just me and him at deer camp, sitting around the campfire, laughing and talking about how many hunts we've been on. Remembering good hunters we've hunted with, and a few bad ones.
This past year, I let 4 nice 8 pointers walk, a young 6 and 2 forkhorns, and a mess of does, cause I'm selective now. Two of the 8's I was able to get within 30 paces of them, and they never knew I was there. One of the does, I had less than 18 paces from me. I was sitting on my 4 wheeler, and we just stared at each other. She was bobbing and weaving her head, trying to get me to move, she kept trying to wind me, but it was in my favor. Seeing that my skills have improved over the years.
Seeing elk moving down the mountain in Norwood, before a snowfall. Finding a fresh elk trail by the odor as they passed.
Campfires, whiskey, good friends, family. Life don't get no gooder.
The day waking up. Listening for the first bird to chirp in the morning. Clear crisp morning, a buck easing down the side of a draw. Seeing his breath in two snorts from his nostrils. Spending time with my son when he was young, sitting in the stand, wrapped up in a quilt, waiting on me to wake him up and tell him, "there's a deer". Spending time with him now, when it's just me and him at deer camp, sitting around the campfire, laughing and talking about how many hunts we've been on. Remembering good hunters we've hunted with, and a few bad ones.
This past year, I let 4 nice 8 pointers walk, a young 6 and 2 forkhorns, and a mess of does, cause I'm selective now. Two of the 8's I was able to get within 30 paces of them, and they never knew I was there. One of the does, I had less than 18 paces from me. I was sitting on my 4 wheeler, and we just stared at each other. She was bobbing and weaving her head, trying to get me to move, she kept trying to wind me, but it was in my favor. Seeing that my skills have improved over the years.
Seeing elk moving down the mountain in Norwood, before a snowfall. Finding a fresh elk trail by the odor as they passed.
Campfires, whiskey, good friends, family. Life don't get no gooder.
Karbon
Member
Any excuse to grab the dog, my gun and soon my son (11 more years) to spend time with my father, enough for me...
Plus Nothing beats watching cupped wings coasting into your decoys at dawn.
Plus Nothing beats watching cupped wings coasting into your decoys at dawn.
I had understood that there was still some bird hunting and stag hunting in England?
Example: http://www.countrysports.co.uk/sheets/map.htm
I know that Scotland still has some...
Example: http://www.countrysports.co.uk/sheets/map.htm
I know that Scotland still has some...
JackOfAllTradesMasterAtNone
Member
Hey Volkolak...
You can still enjoy most of what we're talking about. You may not be able to hunt, but getting into the great outdoors is 80% of the passion to go back. I know there are hills to climb out your way. There's got to be peaks and rivers and valleys not traversed recent days as generations of clansmen did ages ago. (No, not southern state clansmen, he knows what clans I'm talking about)
I know there are forests. I know there are sea shores to explore. If you can't hunt, Go Fish. Get out of the city, with it's busses, snarled traffic, Bobbie's, (isn't that what you call cops?), subways, the tele. Take a girl friend. Take a good friend. Take a child. Learn together.
There's a great world out there. You just have to put a mind to it and explore it.
-Steve
(Else, you could imigrate to the new world, like most of our forefathers did. Come, enjoy the west. It'd be nice to have another 'english speaking' imigrant set foot on American soil instead of another illegal coming from the south.. Don't get me started now..)
You can still enjoy most of what we're talking about. You may not be able to hunt, but getting into the great outdoors is 80% of the passion to go back. I know there are hills to climb out your way. There's got to be peaks and rivers and valleys not traversed recent days as generations of clansmen did ages ago. (No, not southern state clansmen, he knows what clans I'm talking about)
I know there are forests. I know there are sea shores to explore. If you can't hunt, Go Fish. Get out of the city, with it's busses, snarled traffic, Bobbie's, (isn't that what you call cops?), subways, the tele. Take a girl friend. Take a good friend. Take a child. Learn together.
There's a great world out there. You just have to put a mind to it and explore it.
-Steve
(Else, you could imigrate to the new world, like most of our forefathers did. Come, enjoy the west. It'd be nice to have another 'english speaking' imigrant set foot on American soil instead of another illegal coming from the south.. Don't get me started now..)
Hunting has been a family tradition for years. When I am out at first light, when everything looks like a deer, I feel connected to my grandpa and great grandpa who have long since past but I know are right there with me. I also enjoy every second of the time that I get to spend with my dad and I dread the day that he cannot go. I am now ready to pass this experience along to my children. I hope that they will also have this same connection.
Watching two young deer playing in a field like puppies because they have no idea you are around, being out in your stand earlyand being able to hear the birds get up and great the morning, sitting in a ground blind drining hot chocolate with your 9 year old daughter know full good and well that you will never see a deer but not caring, laughing at a buddies missed shot and celebrating with him on his buck of a lifetime, these are some of the things that also keep the 3 week of November circled on my calendar.
My only regret is the years I wasted on selfish pursuits. That time could have been spent with family hunting or fishing, or just being together.
I feel sad for those who have never had the opportunity to hunt or be in the outdoors, I cannot imagine a life without these activities.
Watching two young deer playing in a field like puppies because they have no idea you are around, being out in your stand earlyand being able to hear the birds get up and great the morning, sitting in a ground blind drining hot chocolate with your 9 year old daughter know full good and well that you will never see a deer but not caring, laughing at a buddies missed shot and celebrating with him on his buck of a lifetime, these are some of the things that also keep the 3 week of November circled on my calendar.
My only regret is the years I wasted on selfish pursuits. That time could have been spent with family hunting or fishing, or just being together.
I feel sad for those who have never had the opportunity to hunt or be in the outdoors, I cannot imagine a life without these activities.
KIMBER45TLE
Member
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2006
- Messages
- 92
Hunting
Hunting is a skill when done right. Months before the season you begin scouting territory, you learn to see the difference from one track to another. Was that a doe track, was it a buck track? Each and every year you under take hunting you learn something new. You learn that game will change patterns according to food, water, cover, and activity levels. You read books about it, you read magazine articles about it you apply it to where you are and learn from it. You learn to read trails, you look for scrapes, rubs, bedding areas, dens, what ever it is you are hunting. You then place your stand where you think your best chance is, or where you can best conceal yourself on the ground. You read the prevailing winds for the time of year you're in.
In the preseason in conjunction with the above, you're making trips to the range checking your sights, loads, and target practice. Depending on where you're going, you check your tent, sleeping bag, blaze orange if required, and other equipment you might need. You shop at Gander Mt., Cabella's, Bass Pro, or what ever venue you choose. You make arrangements for hunting licenses's where you're going, tags, permits etc.
The day arrives and there you are in the woods, still dark, freezing your back side off, wondering if it has all been worth it, when that 10 point buck walks into view. You don't see all of him at first, maybe just a leg or tail movement, or maybe you see horns glissen in the sun light. Your heart starts pumping adrenilin into your system, you worry you may not be able to stop shaking long enough to take the shot, or the deer might hear your heart thumping ninety miles an hour. It's pounding in your head for sure.
You try to settle your nerves and ease you weapon into a good steady shooting position. You try to remember what all the experts have said. "Don't look directly at them, they'll feel your eyes on them." All sorts of things will start playing mind games with you. "Did I chamber a round once I got settled in, how far is it, is he/she going stop, and you ease into position." Cross hairs line up on that small place on the shoulder, the safety clicks off, and you begin adding pressure on the trigger. Recoil belts you in the shoulder momentarily taking your eyes off the game. You recover, looking through your scope, you see nothing, you look more and you begin to wonder, "Did I miss?"
Your heart is beating so hard and fast you begin to think is Iron Butterfly playing Ina Gadda Da Vita just two stands away from you. Your eyes squint, then you see it. It might be just a last twitch of the tail, the white under belly of your deer, or a horn glissen in the sun light but you know he's down and he's yours. You climb down, and begin your trec out to "your" deer. When you get just so close you check to make sure he's down. You throw twigs, then closer, then a muzzle poke and you realize he's down and out for the count. He's your's, in the bag and you are finally on the last stanza of Ina Gadda Da Vita. You squat down beside him, grasp his horns and amaze yourself at his size and stature. Some men thump their chest right now, some bow their heads in prayer, some stroke the animal in wonder.
Now the work begins, dragging out, loading on a 4 wheeler, back to camp, skinning, quartering out, and finally cutting up for an ice chest. You'll tell the story ten times at least around the camp fire that night and have the bragging rights for days to come until one larger is taken. If you recovered the bullet, it will mean more to you than your 5 year service pin at work. Each time you go to make venison chili, or cook what ever meal you cook using his meat the entire hunt will come back to you.
Why do I hunt?
ACTS 10:13 from your Bible
Hunting is a skill when done right. Months before the season you begin scouting territory, you learn to see the difference from one track to another. Was that a doe track, was it a buck track? Each and every year you under take hunting you learn something new. You learn that game will change patterns according to food, water, cover, and activity levels. You read books about it, you read magazine articles about it you apply it to where you are and learn from it. You learn to read trails, you look for scrapes, rubs, bedding areas, dens, what ever it is you are hunting. You then place your stand where you think your best chance is, or where you can best conceal yourself on the ground. You read the prevailing winds for the time of year you're in.
In the preseason in conjunction with the above, you're making trips to the range checking your sights, loads, and target practice. Depending on where you're going, you check your tent, sleeping bag, blaze orange if required, and other equipment you might need. You shop at Gander Mt., Cabella's, Bass Pro, or what ever venue you choose. You make arrangements for hunting licenses's where you're going, tags, permits etc.
The day arrives and there you are in the woods, still dark, freezing your back side off, wondering if it has all been worth it, when that 10 point buck walks into view. You don't see all of him at first, maybe just a leg or tail movement, or maybe you see horns glissen in the sun light. Your heart starts pumping adrenilin into your system, you worry you may not be able to stop shaking long enough to take the shot, or the deer might hear your heart thumping ninety miles an hour. It's pounding in your head for sure.
You try to settle your nerves and ease you weapon into a good steady shooting position. You try to remember what all the experts have said. "Don't look directly at them, they'll feel your eyes on them." All sorts of things will start playing mind games with you. "Did I chamber a round once I got settled in, how far is it, is he/she going stop, and you ease into position." Cross hairs line up on that small place on the shoulder, the safety clicks off, and you begin adding pressure on the trigger. Recoil belts you in the shoulder momentarily taking your eyes off the game. You recover, looking through your scope, you see nothing, you look more and you begin to wonder, "Did I miss?"
Your heart is beating so hard and fast you begin to think is Iron Butterfly playing Ina Gadda Da Vita just two stands away from you. Your eyes squint, then you see it. It might be just a last twitch of the tail, the white under belly of your deer, or a horn glissen in the sun light but you know he's down and he's yours. You climb down, and begin your trec out to "your" deer. When you get just so close you check to make sure he's down. You throw twigs, then closer, then a muzzle poke and you realize he's down and out for the count. He's your's, in the bag and you are finally on the last stanza of Ina Gadda Da Vita. You squat down beside him, grasp his horns and amaze yourself at his size and stature. Some men thump their chest right now, some bow their heads in prayer, some stroke the animal in wonder.
Now the work begins, dragging out, loading on a 4 wheeler, back to camp, skinning, quartering out, and finally cutting up for an ice chest. You'll tell the story ten times at least around the camp fire that night and have the bragging rights for days to come until one larger is taken. If you recovered the bullet, it will mean more to you than your 5 year service pin at work. Each time you go to make venison chili, or cook what ever meal you cook using his meat the entire hunt will come back to you.
Why do I hunt?
ACTS 10:13 from your Bible
lawson
Member
What keeps me hunting?
arizona sunsets. i don't think they get any more beautiful than the ones we get here.
calling 'yotes at dusk after a long days hunt
carrying a 70 lb javelina on my shoulder 8 miles back to camp. there's no more satisfyng chore (it's been several years since i've been drawn for deer, so i take what i can get )
learning from guys who have been hunting for twice as long as i've been alive.
sitting down at camp after a long day in the brush, only to see a huge flock of quail fly directly overhead when your shotgun is in the truck, especially when you haven't seen a single bird all day. you can't help but laugh. i also can't help but wonder how quail know to land in the thickest thornbushes the Sonoran desert has to offer.
standing around a campfire telling dirty jokes and sharing funny stories, we've heard them all a million times, but we still laugh like it's the first time.
and finally, the feeling you get when you take off your boots and crawl into a nice warm sleeping bag, and waking up to the smell of coffee.
arizona sunsets. i don't think they get any more beautiful than the ones we get here.
calling 'yotes at dusk after a long days hunt
carrying a 70 lb javelina on my shoulder 8 miles back to camp. there's no more satisfyng chore (it's been several years since i've been drawn for deer, so i take what i can get
)learning from guys who have been hunting for twice as long as i've been alive.
sitting down at camp after a long day in the brush, only to see a huge flock of quail fly directly overhead when your shotgun is in the truck, especially when you haven't seen a single bird all day. you can't help but laugh. i also can't help but wonder how quail know to land in the thickest thornbushes the Sonoran desert has to offer.
standing around a campfire telling dirty jokes and sharing funny stories, we've heard them all a million times, but we still laugh like it's the first time.
and finally, the feeling you get when you take off your boots and crawl into a nice warm sleeping bag, and waking up to the smell of coffee.
Mike nailed it. I never really thought about it that way...but it is definately true. Everytime I look at the mount on the wall of my first deer, it seems like yesterday. I can smell the smells of fall, and feel the first hint of chill in the air. It gives me chills.
That's one of the reasons I love bow season here in Ohio. There's something magical about walking back to the truck along a freshly cut corn field, with a big ol harvest moon hanging low in the sky. It reminds you of what is right with the world and how things should be.
That's one of the reasons I love bow season here in Ohio. There's something magical about walking back to the truck along a freshly cut corn field, with a big ol harvest moon hanging low in the sky. It reminds you of what is right with the world and how things should be.
Hokkmike
Member
I live in a county which triples its population during deer season. Sadly, over the years, I have seen a real decline in the number of hunters, especially youth, who take to the field. The appeal of hunting to me is manifold.
1. The friendship of hunting buddies and family. Meals, stories, somparing equipment, ideas, etc. Going to local gunstores together.
2. The appreciation of nature. Sitting in the woods all day is very calming.
3. The thrill of the hunt. An appreciation for the value and difficulty of the game. (thank you wiley whitetail)
4. The planning, strategy, tactics, and things that go well.
5. I enjoy the quality and technology of my hunting rifles. They are good tools.
6. I eat what I get, so food too!
7. A sense of accomplishment!
1. The friendship of hunting buddies and family. Meals, stories, somparing equipment, ideas, etc. Going to local gunstores together.
2. The appreciation of nature. Sitting in the woods all day is very calming.
3. The thrill of the hunt. An appreciation for the value and difficulty of the game. (thank you wiley whitetail)
4. The planning, strategy, tactics, and things that go well.
5. I enjoy the quality and technology of my hunting rifles. They are good tools.
6. I eat what I get, so food too!
7. A sense of accomplishment!
Pax Jordana
Member
This might sound cheesy.
These are all really nice replies. Some strike me as more relevant (to my experience) than others.
Dad is an old leathery technician from the days when cash registers had gears in them. He grows his beard out, now completely white, for every season.
Brother is a techie who lives on his coffee. Found himself a girl that mom doesn't ever quite approve of because she thinks she's catholic (she's wiccan!). He drives a sports car and thinks body piercing is about as cool as it gets.
I myself am an aspiring nurse, currently knee-deep in the aged and generally crazy. I love my rock music and shave my hair off closer than most guys can manage with their faces. I pump too much iron and will consider anything female that walks by.
Yet every season, out come the old boots and the flannel-lined jeans, the blaze orange stocking caps, the Woolrich-plaid jackets, and a trio of springfield 03A3's, or two marlins and a winchester 94 (brother's a leftie). These things are, with very few exceptions, artifacts from Grandfather, who passed from this earth two months before my first hunting season. Standing together in the raiment and arms of our forefathers, we are for a few days each year men equal and alike. Once we leave the beaten path, there is a certain unity that sets in: weighty glances are exchanged, eyes scan fore and aft. We lead and follow, we flank and turn and advance.
Hours later, we emerge from the woods with hardly a word spoken, perhaps frozen half to death or sweating from the effort -- admittedly, Pennsylvanian winters have been iffy this past half decade or so -- and retire to a favorite local restaurant for honest-to-god birch beer and roast beef so heavy it's hard to keep awake for the drive home.
Another wonderful thing about hunting, and my continual reassurance that it is A Good Thing, is how out-of-place I feel for those first few hours home in the suburbs, just within the limit of the glow that emanates forth from The City. It's good to remember, and be very proud, of never feeling quite like I fit in perfectly in a civilized world, and I hold on to that feeling as long as I can.
These are all really nice replies. Some strike me as more relevant (to my experience) than others.
Dad is an old leathery technician from the days when cash registers had gears in them. He grows his beard out, now completely white, for every season.
Brother is a techie who lives on his coffee. Found himself a girl that mom doesn't ever quite approve of because she thinks she's catholic (she's wiccan!). He drives a sports car and thinks body piercing is about as cool as it gets.
I myself am an aspiring nurse, currently knee-deep in the aged and generally crazy. I love my rock music and shave my hair off closer than most guys can manage with their faces. I pump too much iron and will consider anything female that walks by.
Yet every season, out come the old boots and the flannel-lined jeans, the blaze orange stocking caps, the Woolrich-plaid jackets, and a trio of springfield 03A3's, or two marlins and a winchester 94 (brother's a leftie). These things are, with very few exceptions, artifacts from Grandfather, who passed from this earth two months before my first hunting season. Standing together in the raiment and arms of our forefathers, we are for a few days each year men equal and alike. Once we leave the beaten path, there is a certain unity that sets in: weighty glances are exchanged, eyes scan fore and aft. We lead and follow, we flank and turn and advance.
Hours later, we emerge from the woods with hardly a word spoken, perhaps frozen half to death or sweating from the effort -- admittedly, Pennsylvanian winters have been iffy this past half decade or so -- and retire to a favorite local restaurant for honest-to-god birch beer and roast beef so heavy it's hard to keep awake for the drive home.
Another wonderful thing about hunting, and my continual reassurance that it is A Good Thing, is how out-of-place I feel for those first few hours home in the suburbs, just within the limit of the glow that emanates forth from The City. It's good to remember, and be very proud, of never feeling quite like I fit in perfectly in a civilized world, and I hold on to that feeling as long as I can.
Tiber
Member
Oh, my brother chimed in, I guess I have to
Yep, I'm the geek (did the AR15 thread tip anyone off?) driving the sports-car (MR2 turbo) who thinks body piercing is cool (left to your imagination)...
I go out to hunt for the same reason I go out to geocache, it gets me back into nature and lets me see how the world is doing. Unlike geocaching, hunting is about the animals and less about the plants and trees.
It also is a chance to bring something new to the dinnertable and the guys at the office absolutely freak out when the server has a squirrel tail hanging out of it...
Yep, I'm the geek (did the AR15 thread tip anyone off?) driving the sports-car (MR2 turbo) who thinks body piercing is cool (left to your imagination)...
I go out to hunt for the same reason I go out to geocache, it gets me back into nature and lets me see how the world is doing. Unlike geocaching, hunting is about the animals and less about the plants and trees.
It also is a chance to bring something new to the dinnertable and the guys at the office absolutely freak out when the server has a squirrel tail hanging out of it...
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