T.R. Michels' Trinity Mountain Outdoors Magazine

Animal rights activists are beginning to rely heavily on the animal humane societies to help defend their belief that hunting, fishing and trapping are inhumane. But what is humane? The dictionary describes humane as kind, merciful or considerate. What is considered humane by one person, may not be by another. To an animal rightist (who knows very little about predator/prey relationships or carrying capacity) banning hunting and allowing the deer to overpopulate and destroy the habitat (causing the deer to suffer malnutrition, stress and starvation) is more humane than removing enough deer through hunting so that the remaining deer will have enough forage to live. To an outdoorsman this scenario is not merciful, kind or considerate, and it is not humane.

If a person understands predator/prey relationships and carrying capacity they know that when prey specie numbers exceed the carrying capacity of the land habitat destruction, low reproduction rates, stress, malnutrition and starvation are the results. However, most animal rightists have no knowledge of the way things really are in nature. They relate everything to a Utopian world where they believe all animals should be free to live like humans. And believe that there is some unknown welfare system in nature that will take care of the animals so they will never suffer. Or they relate wild animals to their lap dog, which they lavish gifts on and coddle.

I have watched animals in overpopulated areas search for food. At first they lose weight, then they become emaciated, every rib showing. In their search for food they begin to move at times and places when they wouldn't normally. They travel in the open during daylight hours, where they are chased by wolves, coyotes and stray dogs, which costs them so much energy that they cannot recover, and they eventually die. If they escape the predators they are often wounded and die later. They travel greater distances in their search for food and are often hit by vehicles and die a slow death. I have watched a deer hit by a car die. It is not a sight for the weak hearted. If the animal is severely wounded, with one or more broken legs, as is often the case, it may drag itself to the side of the road, where it may take hours to die.

Anyone who has spent enough time in the outdoors has seen a wounded animal. Whether it has been a rabbit or squirrel hit by a car, a duck, pheasant or deer that has been shot, or a fish that has swallowed the hook, most outdoorsman have seen an animal that may or may not recover from it's wounds. How do you decide if the animal will survive or not? Where do you draw the line as to what is an acceptable injury for the animal to live with and what isn't? What injury will eventually lead to the animal's inability to move and cause it to die of exposure, malnutrition or lack of water? The question inevitably rises, "What is the humane thing to do?" When it is a game animal that has been shot, or a fish hooked too deep, the answer for most of us is simple; dispatch it as quickly as possible. To an animal rights person a blow to the head of a fish, breaking the neck of a bird, or a finishing shot to a deer, might be inhumane and cruel, but to an outdoorsman it is an act of kindness, mercy and consideration.

The real world for wild animals is a harsh, cruel one, where an animal must eat to live, and avoid danger to survive. There are both prey species and predators, and they are interdependent on each other and their habitat. If there are too many prey species they will destroy the habitat and eventually some will die. And it may take years for the habitat to recover. If prey species move into habitats where there is not enough forage to sustain them they must either move out or some will die.

In the real world there have always been predators, and man was one of them. The predators evolved with the prey species, and the predators' existence depended on the numbers of the prey. Where there were numerous prey species, numerous predators could exist. After thousands of years of coexistence a balance was met between the prey species, the habitat and the predators. The predators kept the prey species at or below carrying capacity, so that habitat destruction by the prey species did not occur, and malnutrition, stress, disease and starvation where kept to a minimum. But, without the predators this balance of nature could not occur.

Another reality is that man has altered the predator/prey relationship and habitat carrying capacity wherever he goes. In many places man has improved the habitat through agricultural practices so that more prey species can survive. But, man has also eliminated the natural predators by hunting; because the predators competed with man for the prey species, or the predators left the area because of their unwillingness or inability to survive in the vicinity of man. The result is that in most areas there are far more prey species than the habitat would normally hold, but fewer predators than should be present. This is not bad as long as man continues to be a predator. But, when human populations stop or ban hunting, the prey species is not kept in check, and with the absence of other predators, the prey species overpopulates and suffers.

Because many predators are dangerous to man most humans do not tolerate their presence, and the predators are removed through hunting (this hunting seems to be acceptable, especially if human lives are at stake). Thus, the predators can not, and do not, keep the prey species in balance with the carrying capacity of the land. The only alternative is for man to continue to hunt or otherwise remove the over abundance of prey species, and treat them in a humane manner, by taking excess animals and using them responsibly as a renewable food resource, so they do not destroy the other renewable resources that they rely on to survive.

Hunting, as a means of survival and as a way of recreation, has been practiced by humans for thousands of years. There are several references to hunting, and which wild animals were hunted, in the Bible. In Genesis 1:26 God gave man dominion over the animals and plants. Dominion means authority, which means we humans are the masters of the animals and plants, and we can do what we want with them. That authority carries with it the responsibility to manage our natural, renewable resources. If man is to exercise his authority, and his management responsibility in a humane fashion, he must remove excess game animals from the habitat, so that the habitat is not destroyed. The question is, is it better to let the animals die a long drawn out death after they have already destroyed the habitat? Or is it better to remove excess animals through hunting and use them as the food source that they are, therefore keeping both the animals and the habitat healthy? Anyone who has not lost touch with the outdoors will agree that hunting is the more humane alternative.

Personal Note: I didn't have to go very far into the Bible to find out that humans not only have the right to utilize animals and plants (Genesis 1: 29-30), but that we also have the responsibility to manage the animals as well. Genesis 1: 26 states that God gave man dominion, or mastery, over the animals, which means we can do anything we want with them. But, along with the right to do want we want, we also have the responsibility to manage. We have to control the numbers of animals in many areas through hunting, because the natural checks and balances are no longer in place. Man has decreased the natural habitat through destruction of forests and the building of cities and roads; increased the natural food source through farming; and reduced the natural predation by eliminating or displacing many of the larger carnivores like wolves, mountain lions, bears etc.

Man was one of the natural predators from his beginning, and he will continue to be a natural predator. In the United States, Canada and many other countries, hunting is one of the rights of the people. If we wish to keep that right we all need to become involved with the hunting organizations and conservation clubs that are devoted to proper management of animals and habitat, and to hunting rights. But, many of these organizations are leaving out the same part of the equation that families, businesses, and government are leaving out in their attempts to be successful; God and prayer. With the help of God, through our prayers, the anti-hunters can be stopped. Join an active pro-hunting group and spread the news. Then pray.

This article is from the book Musings & Memories; A Hunter's Thoughts ($9.95), by T.R. Michels. It is available in the Trinity Mountain Outdoors catalog.

God did something great for me

by Larry Porter

It was a hot November day in west Tennessee, not a day that you would think much about deer hunting. The mosquitoes were out and it was about 80 degrees on a bright sunny day. But, I had two hours before my 13 year old daughter's basketball game and I was itching to go deer hunting. Most people hunt for food here and with all the hunting pressure a deer rarely lives past his second birthday.

Finding a Boone & Crockett trophy deer in Weakley County is like finding a needle in a haystack. As I waited for my daughter to get home so we could shoot some free throws before the big game tonight I couldn't help but think about deer hunting. She arrived home after what she called a hard day and said she just wanted to just rest this afternoon and for me to go deer hunting.

I had joined a deer hunting club this year with some of my buddies and this would be my first time to hunt this new property. I went by and picked up my son's Muzzleloader and got my mosquito spray and off I went; as it was only ten minutes from the house. I thought this could be as much of a scouting trip as a hunting trip since I knew nothing about the farm I was about to hunt.

I am a handicap hunter and if it wasn't for my trusty Honda 4 wheeler getting me to and from the field I would have had to give up hunting twenty five years ago when I had a massive stroke. I was very blessed that over time I have regained almost everything except the use of my legs and I can get around with the use of a cane. But through the help of my family and friends and the grace of God I haven't missed a beat in my love for hunting and fishing.

As I got to the field I grabbed my muzzleloader, my fanny pack, my doe in estrous Scent and my grunt call. It was 4:00 PM and I had an hour and a half to hunt.

I always carry a drag rag doused with doe in rut scent behind my 4 wheeler to help cover my scent and also to attract bucks. I could see a nice big tree stand of one of my friends from the road that I thought might be a good spot as it was overlooking a bean field in the river bottom.

I rode my 4 wheeler dragging my drag rag along the edge of the bean field and Parked in the bushes behind the deer stand. I tried my best to get up in the stand but it just wasn't going to happen as I almost fell out trying to get Situated. So I climbed down and fixed a comfortable spot under the deer stand and leaned my muzzleloader against the first step of the ladder.

As I peered through the ladder I could see the cars and trucks going by quite often down the highway. The thought ran through my mind that I'm just wasting my time but I told myself let's just enjoy being out in the woods and sit here until dark. I've always thought the best way to deer hunt was just to be quite and sit still and let the deer come to you. An hour went by and all I'd seen were two squirrels.

With no deer activity I decided it couldn't hurt anything to try my old grunt call. I could still smell the scent of doe in estrous scent on my fingertips from earlier while putting it on my drag rag. I'm not a professional grunter by any means but I grunted a few short grunts. What happened next left was hard to believe. In my 40 years of hunting I've never seen anything like it. This monster buck bolted from a thicket looking for a fight or at least to protect his territory and he was heading right at me across the open bean field in full view. It happened so quick that when the buck stopped he was at 75 yards but I hadn't even had time to even get my gun ready.

I have a scope on my muzzleloader but it didn't take any kind of optics to tell this boy was a shooter. I managed to get my gun up and get my sights on him but he started walking again looking for the other buck. His hair was all bristled and his ears were laid back as though he was ready to fight. When he stopped at 60 yards I pulled the trigger and I couldn't see a thing for a couple seconds. When the smoke cleared all I could see was antlers, big antlers like I've never seen before.

I waited 10 minutes to be sure he wasn't going to run off, and that was the longest 10 minutes of my life.

At 5:10 I got on my 4 wheeler and rode up to him. He had 13 points and some of the longest points that I've ever seen, With mule deer forks on both sides and drop tines on both sides. The deer had a 22-inch spread and weighed 175 pounds. It was the nicest deer that I've ever seen in my lifetime.

I've never been a big believer in using a grunt call but after this hunt I will never be caught without it ever again. There's no doubt the combination of my deer scent and a grunt call did the trick on this old buck.

Looking back on my deer hunt now a week later I almost didn't even go deer hunting on that lucky day. Had my daughter wanted to shoot basketball then I would never have gone deer hunting. Also I had those thoughts of, "Its just to hot and the deer wont be moving." Then after I did go hunting I almost talked myself into leaving early.

So, the bottom line is if you get a chance to go deer hunting you better go, you never know what's going to happen. I have hunted for 40 years and spent thousands of hours in the field but you just never know when it's going to happen. Its kind of like that old saying, "A bad day of hunting is still better than a good day at work". Just when I think life can't get any better God lets something else unbelievable happen to me, thank you God.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13

Why Do I Hunt?

By T.R. Michels

For several reasons I have been unable to hunt much for myself in the last few years. To say I miss hunting is an understatement. As a hunting guide and researcher, most of the hunting I do consists of long hours and hard work. I am usually up a couple of hours before the hunters, putting all the gear together, warming up the truck, making breakfast, feeding horses, or any one of a hundred other things that need to get done to produce a successful hunt.

When I do research I spend hours watching, recording and learning about the game, then several hundred hours at my computer analyzing my data and writing. Very seldom do I get to hunt for myself anymore. I rarely release an arrow or pull the trigger on a gun. In the last five years I don't think I have hunted more than twenty days just for myself. There has always been someone else to consider, someone else to help in their quest for a successful and enjoyable hunt.

If I get to hunt for myself so seldom why do I hunt for a living? Because it is the way I make my living? There are much easier ways to make a living, and I certainly could make more money. No, I do it because I enjoy it. I enjoy the time I spend outdoors; whether it is climbing a mountain after elk or mule deer, paddling through a cattail slough for ducks, walking the woods in search of a tom turkey or a whitetail buck, watching the elk calves jump and play, or standing in a cold windswept cornfield waiting for geese. There are times when every muscle aches, my feet are sore, and I'm cold, wet and tired. But, I love it.

Enjoyment is the biggest reason I hunt. I enjoy hearing the cardinals singing, the ruffed grouse drumming and the squirrel chattering when I am turkey hunting. I especially enjoy the sound of a turkey gobble echoing down the valley in southern Minnesota. I enjoy the sound of a hen mallard quacking loudly across the marsh before the sun comes up in Nebraska, the cackle of a rooster pheasant in the cornfields of Iowa, the sound of a flock of geese as they approach the decoys near Devil's Lake North Dakota, the bugle of a bull elk on a foggy morning in Northern New Mexico. The sounds seem to beckon me to, as if the animals wanted me to join them.

I enjoy the sight of a flock of turkeys feeding, the toms strutting around the hens on a warm April morning. I enjoy the sight of a bull elk watching over his harem, as the cows feed and the calves jump and run on a warm September afternoon. I enjoy the sight of a flock of northern mallards as they drop out of the sky to land in my decoys on a crisp October morning. I enjoy the sight of a rooster pheasant, his breast glowing like a bronze statue in the November sunrise. I enjoy the sight of a ten point buck stepping into the edge of a snow-covered field at dusk in December. It doesn't get any better than that.

I also enjoy the quiet times when I am scouting and don't have to hunt. I enjoy the sight of the sun rising on a snow covered peak along the Continental Divide near Chama, New Mexico, the sight of a lake nestled against the mountain, surrounded by evergreens, the water glistening in the sun near the Salmon River Of No Return in Idaho. I enjoy watching deer and turkey a half mile from my house in the Sogn Valley of southern Minnesota as I continue my research.

I also enjoy the people I hunt with. My hunting partners, and the majority of my clients, are good people. I enjoy their company because they too enjoy hunting, not for the shooting, but for the challenge, the enjoyment. They share many of the same ideals, values and concerns that I do. To be a good hunter takes discipline, knowledge, fortitude, perseverance, and often courage. To become one's hunting partner is to gain their trust and respect, it is one of the highest compliments you can give or receive. The enjoyment of the outdoors and the camaraderie of my hunting partners are the reasons I hunt, not the killing or the taking of game.

Do you have a story? If you have an appropriate, well-written hunting story, we'll post it here.
Piebald Buck Seen on December 1st.

By Michael Di Pippo

It was a beautiful winter day on December 1st in New York. I proceeded out of my door at 7:00am to my favorite hunting spot. It's a beautiful unexplored parcel of land attached to a very affluent farm in one of our NY counties.

From what I understood, there hasn't been hunters allowed on the farm since the early 1900's. The previous owners of the farm had a very strict policy that continued through the generations into the new millennium. The words "NO HUNTING" were prominently displayed at the front entrance to the farm!

If you're a hunter, you know what it's like to find a good parcel of land. I love to hunt on private land, It seems to be a little bit quieter than State lands, and one of the roads less traveled. I had been granted permission to hunt because of an ad I had started placing on craigslist.com two years ago. Most of my friends pay an annual fee to hunt. They go up opening week and are required to pay $2500.00 per season.

I'm a small business owner and have fees popping up all the time so I really don't have much money to spend towards hunting season, other than the normal fees incurred, let alone pay to hunt. So I decided to come up with a way to have that privilege and not pay any fees that hunting private properties entailed.

Being a multi licensed Union Sheetmetal Worker, I placed an ad that was titled appropriately "Handyman, GC Skills in exchange for Permission to Hunt". In the ad I described a little about myself, how much I love our forests, nature, waterways and wetlands, my skills and what it is that I can offer.

The responses were phenomenal! I had offers from people ranging from hundreds of acres, all the way down to private homes with 5 acres attached to State land. I emailed back a few of the people to see what it was they wanted done and if I was qualified to help them. The duties ranged from cutting grass, digging holes with a post hole digger and installing a fence, to exterminating deer. What a novel idea I thought to myself. We exchanged numbers & interviewed over the phone.

Before I knew it I was headed up to fulfill my promise and hopefully evaluate the property. My first job was painting a barn over. It took me all of the 2006 hunting-season to complete. I went in the woods and hunted early morning from first light till about 11:00am, then changed out of my hunting clothes and into my work clothes. I painted each day till about 1:00pm, then washed up & changed back into my hunting garb and off into the woods I went. The woman was so happy with me that she invited me back this year. I was ecstatic!

I had been hunting since opening day & saw several deer, but no shooters. Then Saturday morning I followed my usual routine. Upon exiting the woods to go to breakfast, I noticed a group of deer in the field next to the wood fence that separated the horses and the road. At first I was stunned by what I saw. One of the animals with the small group was a goat. I thought to myself, that's odd, I never saw goats & deer herding together before. Upon a closer look, I saw that it was not a goat. It was in fact a piebald (leucistic, TR) deer.

Pied buck fawn on left

I started to shake - like I had buck fever on my first day hunting as an adolescent. I placed my weapon on the floor & hurried backwards to my vehicle to retrieve my camera. I had to get pictures of this, I thought to myself. If I tell anyone, they wouldn't believe me. I finally got my truck opened, fumbled through my bag, grabbed my camera & headed back to where I saw the deer previously. They were no longer there. I let out a loud sigh. It figures, I said aloud.

I picked up my weapon & proceeded to walk towards the area where they were standing. All of a sudden, I saw movement in the tree line. First the mother stepped out & checked me out, then the other offspring. Finally the white deer stepped out. It was a white button buck with a black head.

The feeling that came over me was magical. He raised his nose into the air to get a whiff of my scent like a classic buck in training. I turned on my Kodak digital camera, raised it and took these pictures for the hunting, wildlife & outdoor enthusiasts of the world to see.

From what I understand from the locals, nobody else has seen it. I was even called a liar unless I divulged its whereabouts. I almost fell for it. I truly had no desire whatsoever to shoot this animal and I darn sure wasn't going to lead another hunter to his safe haven. I just smiled & walked away exclaiming, "just kidding".

A chill arose up and down my spine and made me shake during the experience. I thought to myself, I'm sure there are other hunters out there who will not feel the same when coming face to face with one of these rare deer. Therefore, I will protect its exact location with my life. Since this one has the genes, more pied deer may show up when it starts to procreate.

As the deer scurried off into the thicket, I could only fantasize about meeting him again some day when he grows to be a majestic 8 or 10 point buck. I am confident that I will feel the same way than as I felt when I had first glanced upon his magical mixed colored coat. I felt truly blessed to see this animal. I have named him appropriately. He is called Oreo.

How do I know he won't roam off onto someone else's property & meet a horrible death? I just have that feeling. He felt safe on the land. His mother knows the terrain. She will not lead him astray.

There is also one other thing that gives me the confidence that he may survive until adulthood. It's the sign above the opening on the entrance of the farm somewhere in New York State. It explicitly says, " NO HUNTING "

Michael Di Pippo, CEO - Penfishingrods.com, New York, NY

Missouri Truly Is Turkey Heaven
By Larry Porter

As I was traveling to my first Missouri turkey hunt I couldn't help but think of all the stories that I've heard from all my buddies about turkey hunting in Missouri. I have always dreamed of turkey hunting in Missouri, but I never got an opportunity.

You would never believe the way this hunt transpired. It was nothing short of a miracle from God. I was shopping for turkey calls in the Bass Pro Shop in Nashville Tennessee when a nice friendly man, Fred Dotson, who runs RutNBucks from Citronelle, Alabama walked up and asked if I liked to turkey hunt.

I was riding my little scooter as I am a handicap hunter. We talked for a few minutes about turkey hunting and also about our Christian faith. He told me about his new web site, Hope Outdoors and said they were sponsoring a handicapped hunt in Missouri. He asked me to be his guest.

There is no doubt in my mind that God arranged this meeting with Mr. Dotson so we could become friends, and I could help in his ministry to other people.

It was opening day of turkey season and everyone was excited about our chances because we had scouted the previous afternoon and heard several gobblers in the area. My hunt began at 4:00 AM as Mr. Dotson picked me up at camp - and off we went to a farm about 10 miles from the Iowa state line. We arrived early, and set up my decoys 45 minutes before daylight. As I sat in the fencerow where we had built a makeshift blind I was anticipating the first owl hoot - nothing will make a long bearded tom gobble quicker than an owl hoot early in the morning.

At 5:50 the music began as the turkeys gobbled from every direction. There were at least ten birds gobbling, but it could have been twenty. After several minutes of gobbling, I noticed six hens walking over the hillside toward me. A strutting long beard was next, but he had no interest in my decoys - he had his mind on other things.

At 6:20 another long beard came over the hill strutting straight toward my decoys. As the gobbler got within 45 yards I decided to wait for a sure shot because I could see four other toms strutting at the end of the field. As the second gobbler angled off toward the hens I was glad I waited - because I was treated to a turkey show the next few minutes.

The old gobbler at the end of the field decided it was time for the three other strutting gobblers to hit the road as he ran them off one at a time. Three jakes then checked out my decoys as they walked within twenty yards of me. As I watched the old gobbler at the end of the field breed a hen I heard a gobble directly behind me. It was a different gobbler. He was up on the ridge and had three hens with, and he was in full strut and gobbling.

I had already seen eight different gobblers and not fired a shot in the first hour of hunting. As I sat in amazement at the sight around me I couldn't help but thank the Lord for allowing me the opportunity to experience the most exciting turkey hunt that I've ever been on.

As I shifted my position to watch the gobbler behind me I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Coming over the hill in front of me was the heaviest long beard I've ever seen. He was on a dead run coming toward my decoys. He was only sixty yards away when I first saw him, but he was coming fast.

As he stood face to face with my Jake decoy - looking like he was going to give him a good whooping - I was able to get my gun up. A soft puck from my mouth call made the old gobbler turn in my direction for a head-shot that closed the deal. I filled my Missouri tag at 7:20 AM with the heaviest bird I've ever killed; a 25 pound tom with a 10 inch beard and 1 1/8 inch spurs.

In my ten years of turkey hunting in Tennessee I have never experienced anything like this hunt. I saw more action in my 90 minutes of Missouri turkey hunting than I've seen in three weeks of Tennessee turkey hunting; and I'd been blessed to already have taken three Tennessee turkeys already that year.

I have hunted for 40 years and my priorities have changed over the years. It learned that it is no longer about what you harvest, but the friends you make on your hunts, and the time you spend in the field with God's wonderful creations.

Mr. Dotson and all the people at RutNBucks that help were all unbelievable people. Everyone at camp made me feel right at home. We all had two things in common, our love for being in the great outdoors, and our love for God. Thank you, Mr. Dotson and all the RutNBucks helpers for the most exciting turkey hunt that I've ever been on, but more importantly thank you for the friendship and fellowship we had in my three days that I shared with you.

Dreaming

by Mark Wallace

Take me to a November wood, somewhere in Kentucky or Ohio or West Virginia, on a chilly overcast day. Let me sit on a high ridge with some alfalfa fields nearby, near a crab-apple thicket. Give me a tree stand somewhere in between the fields and the thicket, on an oak flat with plenty of acorns on the ground. Given a bow in hand, I'll sit there till dark, no matter how chilly the evening air may turn. Sometime in the next few hours, I expect I'll see one of the most beautiful sights on God's beautiful earth, and that would be a whitetail buck chasing a doe, the only time during the entire year that he will throw caution to the wind.

Take me to a chilly April dawn, on the edge of a meadow in the heartland of these United States, and let me hear the gobble of the wild turkey as he begins to encourage the hens to join him. Let me smell the fragrance of new spring grass and flowers and buds blooming, and know the re-birth of God's beautiful earth. Given a shotgun in hand and a turkey call, I'll hunt the whole day through, patiently waiting for that rare opportunity to outsmart an ole' gobbler; to beat him at his own game. I can't imagine any man-made entertainment that even comes close to comparing to this joyous challenge.

Take me to the home of my youth, and let us gather in a circle for prayer, Dad and Mom and all five of the children. Let me taste again the love that formed our values, our respect for God's plan for, "our trusting in God for things that we could not change".

Take me back to the little church during the great revival when thirty-some souls were saved because God's Holy Spirit chose to move in the life of His family. Take me back to the hills I roamed and loved so dearly, the pond, the river, the barn.

Yes, take me there and I will live again. My senses will come to full attention, my heart will race wildly, and I will feel the excitement of a child at his own birthday party. Take me there and I will forget the stresses of this life, the sorrows, the hurts and the confusion. For in that place, I am home. On that ridge, in that meadow, in that circle of prayer, I am at peace with all things. Sitting silently in my tree stand, at the base of a large oak tree, or on the wooden floor of the home I grew up in, I have a better understanding of the God that created this marvelous earth, and I have a real taste of what Eden was supposed to be.

Hunting Partners

by T.R. Michels

One of the reasons I enjoy guiding is because of the people I meet. My hunters have included businessmen, truck drivers, doctors, sports personalities, doctors and children. They have been as old as seventy, and as young as ten. There have been first time hunters, and those who have hunted for years; deer, pheasant, duck, goose, squirrel, turkey and elk hunters. They all have something in common. They all enjoy the sport of hunting, not for the killing, but for the challenge, the love of nature and the friends they make. All hunters have hunting friends, and sooner or later some of those friends become hunting partners. Hunting partners are the ones you choose to hunt with, the ones you respect and trust, the ones you enjoy being with. Often the only thing hunting partners have in common is hunting. I know of one set of hunters in which one is young, likes to party, and is a pipe fitter, the other is over fifty, religious and a veterinarian. They have very little in common, except their love for the sport of bowhunting.

Hunting is much like any other love, it knows no bounds, it crosses all barriers. It is something deep within our very nature that beckons to us to do the things that non-hunters cannot comprehend. Why would anyone get up at 3 AM to drive two hours on an icy road through a snowstorm on the off chance the storm will break and the geese will fly, or the deer move? What causes a hunter to get up early on a cold spring morning, walk through the woods in total darkness and sit on the cold, wet ground waiting for a turkey to gobble? What causes otherwise sane men to carry heavy, wet sacks of beat up decoys many yards through a smelly, damp cattail swamp in hip deep mud and water to hunt ducks? Why does a hunter, who loves the taste of venison, prefer to hunt with a bow when his chances of getting a deer are much better with a gun? They do it because they enjoy the challenge, and the discomforts are forgotten in the joy of the hunt and the beauty of nature. When the joy is shared with a friend, a hunting partner who feels the same way, it makes it even better.

I have been lucky enough to have several hunting partners since I began hunting. My first partner was the same one many hunters have had, a father. He carried me on his shoulders into the duck slough when I was seven or eight. He was there when I shot my first duck. He taught me to hunt squirrels, bought me my first bow and took me bowhunting for carp. He also taught me to enjoy hunting and the value of sharing it with someone else.

Since then I have hunted many different states and met a lot of hunters. With each one of them I have shared something. Much of the time it was only the sunrise, the sounds of the animals, or a view I would not have seen had I not been hunting. On many hunts nothing was shot, no meat was taken home. But, it didn't matter because the time had been spent with another hunter, someone who enjoyed the time we spent together as much as I had.

Bud Nelson, my instructor at the Wilderness Guides and Outfitters School, showed me a herd of elk on the continental divide east of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Alan Newcomb, one of the owners of Federal Cartridge, Peter Mitchell, his hunting partner, and I shared a beautiful snow covered September morning in the Salmon River Wilderness in Idaho while elk hunting. Bill Barzydlo and I shared a sunrise on the Niobrara River in north central Nebraska with turkey gobbles echoing down the canyons. We also shared a spectacular northern lights show in one of my goose fields north of St. Paul, Minnesota.

Tom Zibble, Bill Habedank and I shared a rose, pink, purple sunset near Devil's Lake, North Dakota with thousands of snow geese, tundra swans and Sandhill Cranes flying overhead, their calls ringing over the grassy prairie. Call maker Dave Edlefsen and I looked over an immaculate white, snow covered cornfield while hunting giant Canada geese in Rochester, Minnesota. Dick Ray of Lobo Outfitters took time to take me to the top of a mountain to watch the sunrise as it's light bathed the snow covered peaks of southern Colorado. Bud Grant, Hall Of Fame Football Coach, and I shared the beauty of the Brazos Cliffs one evening while elk hunting in northern New Mexico.

Recently one of my hunting partners died. I hadn't known him long. Not long enough to enjoy the elk hunt we talked about near his home in Montana, not long enough for the turkey hunt we planned the next spring. But it was long enough for him to shoot his first giant Canada goose in Minnesota, long enough to hunt pheasants and quail together in southern Iowa. Long enough to become hunting partners. We spent long hours discussing hunting techniques, favorite hunting spots and hunting memories. The first night we met we talked politics, religion and children. I think we even came up with a plan to save the world.

When I received the letter he wrote to his fiends before his death I had a hard time holding back the tears. It was the first time one of my hunting partners had died, and I felt a very real sense of loss. I wish now that I had taken time to go on that elk hunt, taken time to hunt turkey with him. When we are doing what we enjoy with our friends we often forget to take the time to tell them we appreciate them and the time spent together. Then, after they are gone, we realize there are things left undone, things left unsaid.

Even in his passing this partner is with me. Every story I write, every goose and elk hunt I go on I will think of him. His death has given me the inspiration to keep hunting, to share the sport with others and to pass it on to a new generation, so they have a chance to enjoy this special friendship called a hunting partner. In his letter he wrote, "We've celebrated life, not just lived it, and I ask you to continue doing so." I intend to.

He was known to many hunters, his stories have been read by thousands of people. I first got to know him through his articles in Field and Stream magazine. His name was Norman Strung, and I am proud to have been considered one of his friends. I loved him and I miss him dearly. But, I know that when I cross to the "Other Side" as he called it, he will be waiting, just as he put it in his letter, "with an extra Martini, double dry, two olives, and lots of ice." Then we can ride up the mountain together; hunting partners again.

This article is from the book Musings & Memories; A Hunter's Thoughts ($9.95), by T.R. Michels. It is available in the Trinity Mountain Outdoors catalog.

Lost Memories

Have you ever wondered what happens to those items you lose while you are hunting? Do they lie there for years and slowly deteriorate? Are they carted off by a packrat or a crow? Does some unknown hunter eventually find them? If someone does find them, do they toss them away, or take time to ponder how they got there? Do they take them home to join other items that have been found? I am one of those hunters who seem to lose something on at least one hunt a year. Usually I lose it when I am out of state, with no chance of going back and finding it. I am also one of those hunters who finds things and takes them home to join other things I have found. Then I sit and wonder how they ended up where I found them, and who left them there.

Did the hunter who left the rusty, unfired .308 shell in the White River National Forest of central Colorado get an elk? Or was he using it for mule deer? I found the shell by an old campfire ring, the stones blackened by fire. It was in an unlikely spot, too far from water. Why would someone build a fire that far from water? Was he a lone hunter on foot just heating up some hot soup? Did he get snowed in and build a fire for warmth?

Who was the hunter who left the broadhead imbedded in a large pine tree near the Salmon River in northern Idaho? Was he just practicing, or was he hunting? Where was the shaft? How many years had the broadhead been in the tree? I tried to pull it our so I could have someone look at it and tell me what kind it was and when it was made, but it wouldn't come out.

I was hunting Snow Geese in a plowed cornfield near Devil's Lake, South Dakota when I found the faded, rusty Remington 12 gauge shell with a slug still in it. Why would someone be carrying a slug in a cornfield? Usually the corn is picked by the time deer season rolls around. Was the crop left in the field that year? Was the hunter following a wounded deer? Did he get it?

I have left my contributions to the lost and found of the hunting world too. The one I regret the most was the engraved watch my parents gave me for my high school graduation in 1967. I figured out I lost it when I returned home from a goose hunt just north of St. Paul, Minnesota, where I was guiding on one of my leases. Did I drop it in the corn, or lose it while I was putting out decoys in the alfalfa?

I lost more arrows than I care to admit while I was bowhunting for deer and rabbits near Willmar, Minnesota where I grew up. Back then I was using wooden arrows, so it wasn't quite so bad. But, I still had to deliver a lot of newspapers in order to buy new arrows. I once left my shotgun leaning against a fence near my truck while I was turkey hunting along the Mississippi River in southern Minnesota. I was glad I had camouflaged the gun, anyone who parked near it probably wouldn't see it. When I drove back four hours later it was still leaning against the fence post.

While I was guiding for elk my first year near Chama, New Mexico I lost a glove on the peak of Penasco Amarilla. The next year I lost another cheap watch (by then I learned not to wear expensive watches while hunting), and Minnesota Vikings Coach Bud Grant left the hood of his parka on a nearby hill we called Lance's Landing, Two years later Jerry Peterson of Woods Wise game calls left an elk diaphragm on a log near the headwaters of Vallecito creek, south of Chama.

If it hadn't been for those lost and found items I might not have remembered some of those trips, or what I was doing at the time. Most of us remember a hunt because of the nice shot we made, the game we got, or the weather. But, sometimes we remember the hunt because of something we lost or found. If we have something to relate to it makes it easier to remember other details of the hunt. So, next time you go hunting bring along something you can afford to lose. Then you, or someone else, will have a reason to remember the hunt.

This article is from the book Musings & Memories; A Hunter's Thoughts ($9.95), by T.R. Michels. It is available in the Trinity Mountain Outdoors catalog.

Take A Kid Scouting

Hunters across America are recognizing that the anti-hunters and animal rights people are out to stop animal use and hunting. Some of these hunters are joining conservation groups and organizations supporting the right to hunt. There is no question that all hunters, fishers and trappers need to become more involved, and take a stand in order to save our hunting, fishing and trapping rights. As a group we have been complacent too long, too willing to sit on the sideline and let others do the work that should be done by all of us, and we are paying the price. In recent years bear hunting, and goose relocation have been banned in many states. If we don't do something to get more people involved in our great sport, and in stopping the anti-hunters and animal rights groups, we will lose our rights, and there won't be enough of us left to stop those groups.

One of the best resources we have for new hunters are our children. Parents used to pass on the hunting tradition to their children, but with many families headed by a single-parent, and being raised in urban areas instead of the country, parents no longer have the time to hunt. Consequently, the children of these urban families spend very little time interacting with nature. Instead, they play video games, watch television and have a lot of spare time on their hands. In order to change this trend, those of us who enjoy our hunting heritage and want to preserve it, need to actively find ways to involve today's youth (our own children and others) in experiencing the outdoors and hunting. Summer camps, the Boy Scouts, 4 H, FFA and outdoor learning centers are one way to get children involved, and there need to be more opportunities. Another way to get children involved in the outdoors is by spending more time with them.

As the son and daughter of an outdoor writer and hunting guide my son Dallas and daughter Tawnya are obviously subjected to more hunting than the average child. There isn't a day that goes by in our house when hunting isn't talked about. At seven Dallas had already hunted ducks, geese and squirrels, and been on scouting trips for deer and turkey. Scouting trips are an excellent way to get a child interested in the outdoors. They are also an excellent time to teach children about nature, animal behavior, ethics and morals. These trips can be fun and still educate the child, and they are a great way to get children interested in hunting.

On one of our trips Dallas and I scouted a new area for turkeys, deer and squirrels. As we walked through the woods I pointed out the trees and plants I knew. There were red and white oak, and I explained to him that acorns are an important food source for the animals in the fall and winter. I showed him an aspen grove, and told him that elk in the west often leave tooth scars in the bark; and that aspen, cottonwood and willow often meant water nearby. We found raspberry, gooseberry, cherry, grape and strawberry plants. I explained that grouse often eat the fruit of these plants. I showed him poison ivy, stinging nettle and thistle, and mentioned the dangers of each. Dallas saw deer feeding at the edge of a field, heard a turkey answer my call, and was fascinated at the abundance of land snails. He learned the call of the crow, barred owl, squirrel, cardinal and wood duck.

By his second trip he knew the difference between red and white oak, and knew what wild grape, gooseberry and raspberry looked like. On his first trip he wasn't too interested in exploring, but this time he spotted a hill and decided he wanted to climb to the top. I wasn't sure he could make it up the steep seven hundred foot slope, but he was determined, and after falling and slipping a number of times he made it. I was more proud of his accomplishment than he was.

I wouldn't have normally climbed that hill while I was scouting, but, after seeing the beautiful view, I was glad we made the climb. It gave me a whole new perspective of the valley that I would not have seen, had it not been for my son. Not only is he becoming more inquisitive because of our scouting trips, but I am too. When he sees a plant I can't identify we go home and look it up. When he spots a deer trail and wants to follow it I gladly go with him. The last time I let him lead we jumped two deer out of their beds. These trips are teaching us both new things, and they are a great way to spend quality time with a child without worrying about the job, phone calls, television or other intrusions.

If you are concerned about the animal rights and anti-hunting movement, join a conservation group or pro-hunting organization that is politically active. But, don't forget to involve your children and recruit others to our hunting heritage if you want to save our gun ownership and hunting rights.

This article is from the book Musings & Memories; A Hunter's Thoughts ($9.95), by T.R. Michels. It is available in the Trinity Mountain Outdoors catalog.

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