THE END OF AN ERA

It was November 1986 and I was 16, and my dad was driving his pick-up truck.  His friend was in the passenger seat, and his friend’s dad and I sat in the bed of the truck that was covered with a topper. It was cold and dark, but the energy was high because this was my first rifle deer hunting trip!

We were heading to central Minnesota to a chunk of public land my dad and his friends had been hunting for a few years. My oldest brother, who usually went hunting wasn’t with that year because he was in the military. The 3-hour drive up north was filled with stories of past hunts. There was never a quiet moment, and I was taking it all in. We even stopped and ate dinner at the same place the guys had stopped every year. Arriving at the cabin, we unloaded enough gear for 10 men, even though it was only the four of us. The story telling and one-liner jokes carried into the late night as we played cards. The next day we went to the state-owned public hunting land and made a plan for the opening day hunt. I didn’t sleep a wink that night because of the excitement…well, that and my dad’s snoring.

The next morning, we were in the woods long before sunrise. I walked down a trail dimly lit with a 1986 flashlight and sat on a pre-determined stump. Thoughts raced through my mind; what time do deer wake up? Are they just going to bed? Will I see one through the brush around me? Why are my fingers and toes already freezing? The rest of the morning was very uneventful. We decided to hunt a different section of woods a few miles away the next day. Once again, we were in the woods long before sunrise. The morning was quiet, just like the previous day. I got up from my seat and walked around to stretch my legs. Seconds later, the thunderous sound of hooves tromping on the frozen earth grabbed my attention. I looked up, saw a deer running in front of me. I raised my gun, shot, and the creature crashed to the ground. After that, I was hooked...for life!

We would return to this chunk of woods year after year. It became “our woods”. Yes, it was public hunting land, but we treated it as our own. The woods were a planted jack pine forest. The trees were planted three feet from each other in rows five feet apart. Unless you were looking directly down a row, which curved a lot, you couldn’t see more than 30 yards. It was great habitat for whitetail deer and other creatures to hide. Some years we wouldn’t even see a deer in the woods. Some years we’d get a deer...one deer for our entire group of five men. No matter who shot the deer, we’d all gather together and celebrate! The comradery within this group was awesome! My brother and I started to really focus on learning more about the woods and deer hunting. Every year we learned more and more and got a lot better at hunting. Some years we’d even get two deer - woo-hoo! My brother and I were a bit competitive with each other, but we also were the most excited for each other if one of us shot a deer. I loved going to the deer woods; heck, I just love being in the woods. As time went on, I started archery hunting to spend more time in the woods, but I loved getting together for rifle season most of all.

About 10 years in, we started noticing posted signs in the woods around us that the land was leased to private parties. After doing some research, we learned that our chunk of land was the only true public land in the area, the rest of the land was owned by a paper company. The paper company closed those areas to open hunting and started leasing it out. No problem for us; we hunted our land and the others hunted their land.

Every so often other hunters would wander through “our land.” They would acknowledge, “oh, you guys are hunting here;” no worries, and they’d go back to their area and all was well. It was a mutual respect we all had for each other’s hunting spot.

A few years later, the paper company started clear cutting huge sections of their land. We felt safe, but noticed other hunters started creeping closer to our chunk. We completely understood this was public land and everyone had a right to it. So, we started getting up even earlier than we already were so we could be the first ones there.

Eventually things started to change within our group; one by one the older guys slowly stopped coming. However, my sons and nephews were now at the age where they could hunt, and so they did. Our group of men changed, but we still had the woods as a constant. It was the start of a different era. Now, my brother and I were the “old guys” (even though we weren’t that old). It changed my purpose of the hunt; it became more about helping my sons and nephews experience the woods and get opportunities to see and shoot a deer.  It was a pretty incredible feeling to have my son sitting next to me when I shoot the biggest buck of my life; even more incredible to be sitting shoulder to shoulder with my sons when they each saw and shot their first deer. Now, the excitement leading up to rifle season had even more energy to it. Even though the woods around us was constantly changing; more clear cutting and more hunters creeping closer, we kept adapting in “our woods”.

It was 2011 when my youngest son went rifle hunting for deer. We always went to the woods in September to check things out and get the blood pumping, and that year was no different. When we turned down the gravel road towards our woods, I thought I made a wrong turn because there were no trees! The woods that were once so dense where before we could hardly see 30 yards in, we could now easily see over 300 yards. A sick feeling came over me and I felt a huge knot in my stomach. Our woods were gone! The trees that we had memorized from staring at them for so many years looking for deer were all gone. After wandering around like zombies, we eventually regained our composure. There was a small sliver of trees left on the one end of the area where we decided to get things set up there for upcoming season.

Soon the rifle season was upon us and we were heading back to the woods, or what was left of them. We stopped at the usual restaurants and grocery store, but things felt very different. Opening season morning came and we were in the woods ridiculously early, because we knew other hunters probably realized the lack of trees as well. We got into our hunting spot without issue. The sun came up and what little woods were left came alive. The deer were on the move. One snuck in behind my youngest son and I. My son couldn’t get a shot, but I could and did...one deer down. While on the ground field dressing that deer, several more shots rang out. We soon found out one of our other guys shot two deer, along with my oldest son, who shot the biggest buck any of us has ever seen in our woods! By 9am we had four deer for five hunters, which has never happened before. It took us a while to field dress all the deer and ended up calling it a day. My youngest son still had his license to fill and wanted to hunt more, so he and I went out the next morning. Sure enough, he shot his first deer at sunrise! We shot more deer that year because with the sudden lack of trees, the deer didn’t know where to go when all the hunters took to the woods. That season was a roller coaster ride of emotions.

The following seasons brought more hunters and less deer. The deer quickly adapted to their habitat change and found ways to once again be the elusive creatures we were used to.  We would still get a deer or two, but we were having more interactions with other hunters that weren’t always positive. Little by little, the excitement of rifle season was fading year after year. It was becoming more stressful each year as other hunters were pinching in closer and closer on our very small chunk of woods. One year while sitting in his deer stand, my nephew had an interaction with another hunter, where the other guy stood and hunted 20 yards away, not even caring that my nephew was already there. Things were getting out of hand.

Eventually, everyone in our group was feeling the strain of what happened to our woods, and with each season approaching, the stress began to outweigh the excitement. So, with a knot in my stomach and a lump in my throat, I made the decision to not go rifle hunting in “our woods” this year. Rest assured, though, this fall, I’ll be in “the woods” somewhere, doing something I love.

The trophy for the biggest deer of the season, that everyone won at some point.

My sons and I. 2011

2 Corinthians 4:16 Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 

GOING TO BATTLE

This past Saturday was spent completing many chores and projects, but little did I know there was also going to be a main event.

 

Because I’m an early bird, I was up at sunrise getting things prepped for the day. By 7am, the truck was loaded with items that needed to be dropped off at several locations. The first stop was at the neighborhood bakery. This wasn’t on the official list of things to be done, but it was a necessity for me. At the 7:15am there was only one other person in line at the bakery…perfect! I bought more pastries than a “normal” person would, but now I was ready to get on with the chores. The rest of the morning chores went well thanks to the energy I gained from the morning’s purchase. A few hours later while on my way back home, I drove by the bakery which now had a line that was out the door! I slowed down and felt a certain amount of satisfaction as I crammed a custard-filled bismarck in my mouth.

 

Arriving home, I started the final chore for the day, which was to cut the shriveled-up flowers from the multitude of hosta’s in our yard. We have an abundance of hosta’s because they’re easy to care for and thrive in our tree shaded yard.

 

The heat and humidity of the day was quickly building, and just as I was about done working in the last section of hosta’s, BAM! DING, DING, DING - in this corner weighing in at 200 plus pounds wearing paint- stained, faded green cargo shorts and donning a sweat-soaked gray t-shirt…yours truly. And in the opposing corner weighing in at 0.5 grams wearing a yellow and black horizontal striped unitard…Bumble Bee! The referee hadn’t given the “begin fighting” command yet, when Bumble came out of nowhere with a vengeance! Before “yours truly” knew what was going on, Bumble was up close and personal, buzzing under my chin, directly in my face, and circling around my head. I tried to float like a butterfly, but tripped over a cluster of hosta’s. As I crashed to the ground, I wondered why I planted so many hosta’s. I quickly jumped up, swinging withered flowers frantically in a windmill pattern. Bumble charged at me one more time, but thankfully they don’t sting like a bee. I swung the manly flowers around once more, but Bumble, probably intimidated by the fierce glare from the sweat dripping from my face and crooked glasses, flew off to continue with his pollinating duties. Looking around, I realized there were still a few hosta’s with flourishing flowers on them. I decided to leave them for another day when I would be better prepared for battle.

 

2 Timothy 4:7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith;

 

Sidebar…

Here is a non-toxic weed killer that works very well. One gallon of vinegar, one cup of salt, and one tablespoon of liquid dish soap mixed into a pump sprayer. The left area of creeping Charlie in the picture was treated with this solution, and the right side was not.

Enjoy what your yard has to offer, even if you have to go to battle once in a while.

WATCH WHERE YOU'RE WALKING

The natural beauty of the North American wilderness never ceases to amaze me!

Starting with the animals, the brilliant red feathers of the male cardinal, the deep cinnamon and red coat of the red fox, and the detailed muscular features of the wild mustang. The canopies of trees are equally stunning; the year-round luscious deep green display of spruce pines, the stunning array of soft blossoms on a spring cherry tree, and the brilliant fall colors on the variety of maples. These are just a few of the beautiful creations that draw me to the wilderness. The different seasons bring out the uniqueness of animal and plant life. Animal mating seasons bring out the splendor of what they have to impress a perspective mate. Different weather conditions and seasons help bring out the gorgeous foliage of trees.

While enjoying a morning hike through the woods this past spring, I came across a section in the trail that was full of what the season had to offer. There were luscious pines, heavy greens of oaks, and contrasting white blooms. I slowed down my pace and casually wandered through the area, allowing my hands to brush over the soft spruce needles and my nose to take in the aroma of the white blooms. As I tilted my head back with my gaze upward and my arms stretched out, the tip of my fingers tickled the leaves. After several moments looking up, I looked down to verify my footing and there it was, my wilderness archenemy…poison ivy! Some people aren’t bothered by poison ivy, but I am allergic to it. There have been a couple instances where I’ve broken out with itchy blisters from this evil plant. Those two occasions taught me to be on the lookout for this “leaves of three, let it be” irritating plague. The blissful moment of enjoying the environment was now replaced with wondering how long I’ve been wandering through the oily leaves of this venomous plant. On my way back to the truck, my thoughts were filled with plans of getting my boots off and out of my pants without getting the plants oils anywhere else. Because of the potential for exposure to this wicked plant, I was prepared and brought gloves and wipes. Nonetheless, I was on the watch for any breakouts and was pleased nothing exposed itself.

The beautiful trail that enlightened my morning

The little oily evil plant 

It was a good reminder that there are many tempting beautiful attractions that can draw one in, distracting from the small wickedness hiding underneath.

Proverbs 4:14-15 Do not enter the path of the wicked, and do not walk in the way of evil, avoid it, do not travel on it; turn away from it and pass on.