Jan 2010’s “Woman of the Wild”-Kim Pezzeminti

Kim Pezzeminti, explorer, huntress and creator of things.

“Woman of the Wild” could not be a more perfect description for this explorer!  As a young girl, I would create some of the most amazing places in the wild of the outdoors.  The most memorable is of my playhouse underneath a GREAT big maple tree!  The dirt floor was swept daily and the luscious and green moss became the carpeted areas of this delectable place.  I served mud pies topped with the flowers of the Forsythia bush.  My Grandmother Ruby would always be there to assist in my projects.  I credit her for blessing me with creativity.  She taught be how to see pictures in the clouds and how to make something out of nothing. (Which by the way has been a wonderful trait to have through my adult years!)

My Mother and Father are also very instrumental in the development of my creativity Through many years of camping, seeing, doing and just sharing added the element of honesty and integrity.  My Dad would take me fishing atop Mowbry Mountain near Chattanooga, Tennessee.  I caught my first 3 pound bass on a Zebco 202 rod and reel and I was hooked.  I began to scream to my Dad across the pond…”Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” as I drug the most incredible, awesome fish ashore.  Daddy came just a running and was so proud of me!  I went home, took my hands up to my Mom’s nose and said smell…I caught a fish!

As I grew and developed into a woman, all of these experiences and skills would ultimately become the foundation for my work world success.  After spending almost 20 years in the tile industry, I found it ironic that I was selling “baked dirt” for a living. (Hmmm, thank you mud pie).  I was able to work with ceramic engineers from France, Italy and Spain to take clays, silica sand and glazes to make beautiful tiles for homes and buildings around the world.  This job also enabled me to travel where I was constantly in sensory overload!  As this Tennessee girl traveled to the West, it was if she had found her home.  Wyoming became the place that every chance I got, I would go there, place my feet into the vast forests and just be on cloud nine.  The grand mountains would bring my creativity out like flowing lava from a volcano!  I spent several summers in the Teton National Forest on Horseback and I never returned the same person.  I am so thankful for these days in the woods.

As I traveled, I became the Platinum Princess on Delta Airlines.  Spending over 200 nights a year in a hotel was quite and experience.  I never knew what I would receive from all these frequent flyer miles but I found out a little over four years ago…the award was my darling and precious soul mate.  As we sat side by side on a flight from Las Vegas to Atlanta (thank you Delta) we talked about deer hunting, which I had never done, but my Dad loved to deer and turkey hunt.  I told him about the back strap my Dad cooked every Christmas morning.  Needless to say, this was love at first flight!

We married 2 years later on the Bell Tower of the Hotel Colorado ( Interestingly, this hotel became the White House of President Teddy Roosevelt, while he bear hunted…I think I must have felt his love of the West) then we jumped in our jeans and headed Elk Hunting for our Honeymoon.  My hunting buddy taught me to shoot my first gun and ultimately harvesting my first deer.  We make being in the WILD a priority for our extra curricular activities.  I escorted my husband on this 50^th birthday celebration to Namibia, Africa where I watched my mentor focus and harvest.  We have Elk Hunted together in Colorado and Wyoming.  Our most favorite place is our hunting camp in Georgia where we work on the many aspects of the Whitetail Deer.  Living now in Merritt Island, Florida, we are anxious to someday find a little cabin hidden in the woods where I can sit on my porch and listen to the creatures sing their songs.

Once again my experiences would take hold of my creativity and I from this my company Doeville would be born.   This is a place for women to come and capture items created by women and made in the USA.  The products and artists are a direct result of my many years of traveling and meeting people all over the world.  Our tag line is “Accessorize Your Spirit” which is what the places in the wild have done for my spirit!

My message to all women is to explore, not only places but also within you.  There are many treasures to be found!

See the original article at CampWildGirls.com

Hanna Pike of Prois Hunting Takes 7×6 Bull in Colorado!

Big Bull Down! Hanna Pike of Prois Hunting Takes 7×6 Bull in Colorado! By Kirstie Pike, CEO Prois Hunting Apparel for Women

Again?!? Yes, again… Hanna Pike, daughter of Prois founders Steve and Kirstie Pike, bags another trophy animal for 2009! Hanna, 17 years old, started out her 2009 season with hard-earned Mountain Goat that she took in the 13,000 foot peaks of Colorado. This week, Hanna scored her second trophy of 2009- a 7×6 bull taken in Southeastern Colorado.

Hanna, accompanied by her father and grandfather (Jim “Jim Dog” Pike) set out for the south east reaches of the state. Packing in on horseback, the threesome set up early on opening morning to glass the area. A number of sizable bulls and cows were sighted that morning. However, when Hanna spotted a nice 7×6, she knew that was the bull she wanted. After some maneuvering, she was able to set-up into position and take her shot.

The rest, they say, is history. A trophy bull is quite a prize, but the memories fabulous hunt shared with her dad and grampa are what will mean the most. Passing the torch and fueling the passion for hunting and the outdoors starts at home. It is a beautiful thing to watch our kids grow into the next generation of sportsmen/women. Oh, and by the way…Hanna isn’t done yet. She ALSO drew a Colorado Mule Deer tag for the upcoming season…stay tuned!

See the original article at CampWildGirls.com

My First Bull Elk!

Comment by Wendy Koons on October 29, 2009 at 12:10pm

My first bull elk! Taken last Saturday (10/24/09) on the last day of a controlled/lottery hunt in literally the last few minutes of shooting light. I’ve taken a few cow elk over the past several years since moving to Idaho, but never a bull. The hunt opened on October 1st and we turned every weekend into 3 or 4 days of hard hunting. Saw tons of elk, probably 300+ head all together, but just couldn’t get it done – either we were winded by the cows or the bulls changed their minds and didn’t give me the shot I needed. Then we had a hard freeze and snow that really put the brakes on the rut and the elk pretty much stopped talking, no matter how much calling we did. I had pretty much given up on taking a bull, but on Saturday evening, about 15 or 20 minutes before dark, my boyfriend Jeff and another friend decided to give calling another try. And the bull I took let us know he was there. They called and he came charging in, screaming all the way and pushing a good number of cows and calves ahead of him. There was one smaller bull with the group, that I saw first, but couldn’t get a shot on him. I’m glad, because I’m really happy with this guy. I was afraid there wasn’t enough light when he finally came into view, but when I looked through the scope I could see him clearly and pulled the trigger. He hunched up and disappeared into some thick timber. It got dark on us, so we backed out and came in at first light the next morning. Found him about 100 yards from where I shot him. The best part though was having my boyfriend Jeff with me. He contracted the neurological form of West Nile virus in 2007 and it nearly did him in. He spent over 9 months in physical rehab, and last year this time was in a wheelchair. To have him there with me and help call in that bull after all he’d been through was nothing short of miraculous. I think he was more excited than I was. Before the hunt I told him I thought if I got one bull, I’d probably go back to hunting cows, but now that I know how exciting it is, I might have to change my mind. …

See the original article at CampWildGirls.com

November’s “Woman of the Wild” Sarah Calhoun

Sarah Calhoun- Founder of Red Ants Pants.

Since college I’ve wanted to start hunting. I think it’s important to know where our food comes from.  Having grown up on a farm I’d had to opportunity to help butcher pigs and chickens so I had that experience, but I wanted the wild game experience as well.  When I moved to White Sulphur Springs, Montana, the hunting opportunities were endless.  I bought my first rifle in 2004, a Remington 30-06 with a Winchester bolt.  I’ve been lucky enough to harvest a mule deer every year since, but the elk have continued to elude me.  We’ll see how this season goes!

Sarah has started her own company called Red Ants Pants (work pants for women) and travels the country doing the Tour de Pants.  Here is a poem about that.

On a farm where Sarah was raised, Playing outside she spent her days. One time she fell and started to cry. She saw a hole in her pants, right at the thigh. “What a bummer,” she thought, “these should have lasted longer.” “If only these pants were a little bit stronger!” On summer breaks from college, she helped her Dad with the hay. She wore his old pants; they didn’t fit the right way. Instructing for Outward Bound, she led kids in the woods. When shopping for work pants, she found nothing good. Next she led trail crews for the SCA. With pulaskis and cross cuts her pants grew weaker each day. When her back wore out she settled in Montana, And patched up her pants with an extra bandana. She peeled logs and groomed ski trails to bring in some money. “There really are no work pants for women. This is no longer funny!” At a coffee shop one day, she read her “How to Start a Business” book. A man happened by and gave an interested look. He asked her what she was doing, so she told him her thought; “We need workwear for women. We need it a lot!” This wasn’t just any man – as it turned out. He knew exactly what she was talking about. For twenty years, production and design had been his career. For a small company called Patagonia…. She was all ears. With contacts and advice, Sarah was well on her way. And Red Ants Pants was born, that very same day.

You may be asking, why the name Red Ants Pants?

See the original article at CampWildGirls.com

High Adventure deer Hunt

Nerves were tingling with anticipation as I made my way through the tangle of weeds and dense undergrowth. The dim early morning light made ghostly shapes, fanning the flames of imagination, sending all the senses to full alert. A soft breeze sighed, bringing the pungent smells of sage and manure… yes you read it right… manure… so much for making this sound like a romantic, high adventure! I was in our barnyard, making my way to the end of our horse corral to sit in the weeds and wait for a deer to come by!

All spring and much of the summer we had been watching deer cross through our barnyard on their way to and from the alfalfa fields. There were several nice bucks in the bunch. At first I thought I wouldn’t want to go after a deer right in our backyard… but as the elk season was coming to a close and we still didn’t have any meat to put in the freezer, I began to look at  those deer as fair game! So for the next two weeks, I began the quest to put meat on the dinner table. It seemed at first that it would be a simple staight forward hunt… but I soon found that these deer were not tame… nor were they dumb! If I sat by the gate near the Russian Olive trees in the morning, they’d show up over by the horse corral, 200 yards away. So I’d switch and sit by the horse corral… they’d show up over by the Russian Olive trees. This is the way it played out , morning and evening… until it had dwindled down to two days left in the archery season.

At this point I had given up trying to use any kind of stratgem and was just hoping for a doe to come by haphazardly. The season would end on Wednesday… on Sunday evening we were relaxing in the easy chairs when I happened to glance out the window and could just make out the shapes of deer in the fading light. They were gliding through the barnyard on their way to the thick Russian Olive trees. There were two does, two fawns,  one spike, a forked horn , and a decent three point.

looking out the window we saw the deer pass through just at last light of the day.

I tossed and turned most of the night, visions of those deer dancing through my head. Gary got up at 5:00 for his morning jog.  I sat munching my cold cereal, arguing with myself over the futility of trying to intercept one of those deer… finally disgusted with the argument, I put my spoon down, plucked my bow off the rack and headed out to the horse corral!

After about an hour of shivering in the cold morning, the faint light of dawn began to bring shapes into focus. I’d been staring for some time at the dark line of trees when I realized the faint outline of gray was a deer! I was so sure that the does would show up first that it took awhile to register on my brain that the deer was the nice 3 point buck! I soon made out three other deer farther back in the shadows. They were about 70 yards away, and feeding very slowly toward me. I had brought the video camera, so decided to focus on getting some footage of the deer to calm my nerves and occupy my mind while I waited for them to feed within bow range. There were two fawns in the bunch and they began to jump and play, chasing each other around the sage brush… it was a beautiful sight… Then things got a little dicey as a forked horn came up my side of the ditch, seemed to catch my movement and penned me with his eyes for what felt like an eternity! He finally decided the movement wasn’t threatening and began feeding about 17 yards away. I had hoped to get an opportunity to take the 3 point… but it looked like this little forked horn was wanting to end up on our dinner plate! I figured I’d have to take him if he kept coming, for he’d soon see me and bust everything wide open. I was waiting for him to turn broadside, when suddenly he threw up his head and stared up the hill for a few seconds. then turned and jumped across the ditch and disappeared down the other side. I eased back down from my knees and glanced up the ditch bank hoping the 3 point was still there. He was… still calmly feeding, unconcerned. Mouth dry and palms sweating I put the range finder on him… 28 yards… very doable… but he was quartering slightly toward me. Heart pounding, I watched and waited… I felt transfixed as I saw him slowly turn and present a perfect quartering away shot! All the universe seemed to go into slow motion… I drew, anchored, settled the pin, squeezed the release…thwack! Instantly everything sprang into fast forward, deer bounding away, disappearing over the side of the ditch bank… then total quiet. I sat stunned… the emotions overwhelmed me. I felt sure the shot had gone true, and I was so grateful! I finally got up on shaking legs, still flooded with emotion…

as I began to walk toward the spot I’d last seen the buck I caught movement from the trees and saw the forked horn coming back up the ditch bank towards me! It was very interesting behavior he displayed,,, he’d walk towards me staring straight at me, then turn and look back in the direction he’d come. Farther out in the field I saw one of the fawns prancing around in one spot looking intently at something on the ground. The grass was too tall to see, but I was hoping it was my buck! I didn’t want to spook the forked horn and fawn so I just stood and waited for them to lose their curiousity. They finally wandered off, and I went up the ditch bank, finding good bright red blood! I followed the blood to the edge of the tall grass and looking through a little opening in the grass spotted the yellow and green fletching of my arrow, and a gray shadow on the ground! Even though I was quite sure I’d made a good hit… the relief flooded through me…

Now the work began! I had never field dressed an animal without Gary’s help, and I wanted to know that I could take care of it if I was all by myself… so I rolled up my sleves and dug in! Two and a half hours later, tired, bloody and sweaty I had all the meat in the house ready to proccess… it was a very rewarding feeling! Very similar to the feeling you get when all the vegtables and fruits of the garden are harvested,and preserved for wonderful feasting during the long cold winter.

Fruits of the labor!

This might have been  a backyard hunt…. but to me it was filled with excitement being the first deer I’ve taken with a bow… and the first one field dressed without anyone there to help me! It had all the elements of a high adventure!

Sue’s Gear:

Diamond Razor Edge Bow Packages
Bushnell Yardage Pro Sport 4 Rangefinder

Trophy Ridge Quick Shot Whisker Biscuit Arrow Rest

This article by: BaseCampLegends.com

Run away Crappie Fishing

I say we all run away and go somewhere.  Like Kentucky fishing.  For crappie. This beautiful fall weather makes me want to run away.

This is the first and only time I’ve touched a fish. But if I run away fishing alone … I will need to take my fish off the hook by myself.

Umm…

Ok…

Hahaha…

I can’t…

Fisher Tak-er Off-er for Hire!

I’ll pay you.

And I’m fun entertainment.

I’ll bring cupcakes.

See the original article at TheHuntersWife.net

NorCalCazadora takes her first deer!

The great shock: I finally got my first deer!  by Holly Heyser

I GOT A DEER! I GOT A DEER! I GOT A DEER!

I shouted the words into the cell phone this morning, struggling to share the news with Boyfriend as the bars kept disappearing from my screen. Redial. Signal lost. Redial again. Ring ring ring.

I GOT A DEER!

He got it that time.  

I went out this morning like I do on all hunts – simultaneously fantasizing about the perfect hunt and bracing for the big goose-egg.

The latter is a good strategy for blacktail hunting in California, which has the lowest success rate of all wild game hunting in the state. But I actually had some reason to be optimistic today.

First of all, unlike last weekend’s hunt with Phillip in the Mendocino National Forest, I was on private land. It was only 50 acres, but it was 50 acres that hasn’t been hunted in who knows how long, and I had it all to myself.

Second of all, unlike last weekend when we did not see one single legal buck, I’d already seen several on this land. But let me back up for a second.

Boyfriend and I were actually supposed to be hunting wild boar here. Owners John and Peg Poswall were going out in the mornings and finding their landscaping all dug up. Peg knows Boyfriend through the food world, and she thought her hunter friend might be able to help alleviate their problem.

The only hitch was that they had never seen the pigs during the day, which we knew might be an insurmountable obstacle – you can’t hunt pigs at night. But John mentioned that they had tons of deer that we were also welcome to hunt, so I picked up a deer tag Thursday morning.

When I arrived Friday afternoon ahead of Boyfriend, John took me on a tour of the property and I found tons of pig sign and deer sign. At the end of the ride, I even saw several legal bucks (forked-horn or better) skitter across their fence. Sweet!

Boyfriend and I spent the night and when we got up the next morning, I took him to a spot where I’d found a pretty good pig trail. We perched on some boulders and waited to see what would come, but nothing did. Then I looked up the hill and noticed deer munching on cypress trees on a walkway leading to a fountain. They were about 180 yards away.

I angled up the rock for a better shooting position and one of the bucks in the group turned broadside. My heart raced. My bipod shooting stick was too low. My position was awkward and unsteady. In the early-morning light, I couldn’t see clearly what was behind the buck (I think it might’ve been a chicken coop, but there were lots of marble statues in the vicinity that had me just as worried). And on top of all that, it was 180 yards away – a little far for me. The buck moved behind a tree, and then the whole group trotted off and the opportunity was gone.

Boyfriend totally would’ve taken that shot – and made it – so I felt like a moron for holding back. But he was nice enough about it. “If it doesn’t feel right, you shouldn’t do it,” he said.

We decided to take a quiet walk around the property so I could show him other promising spots I’d seen. As we walked along a creek at the bottom of a hill, we bumped four does on the open hillside above us. Then we went to a pond where pigs had been wreaking havoc. By this time, it was getting pretty late and we began talking in normal tones instead of a whisper. We figured we’d spend the rest of the morning mushroom hunting.

“You know what we haven’t seen yet?” he asked.

“What?”

“A rabbit.”

And just then, something burst away from us on the other side of a bush.

“There’s one,” he said laughing. Then we realized it wasn’t a rabbit; it was a buck. Forked-horn, and a nice size. He’d let us get ridiculously close to him.

The buck sprinted up the hill and then came to a stop. Broadside. Right in front of the house.

Hell!

I looked back at Boyfriend, chagrined to have lost my second chance of the morning.

“Oh, even I wouldn’t have taken that shot!” he said.

We called it quits not long after that. But it was really bugging me that I knew deer were there and I hadn’t gotten a shot at them. When John and Peg made it clear I was welcome back anytime, I said, “Could I come back tomorrow?”

That was how I found myself walking down that trail again at 5:50 this morning in the near-blackness of the new moon – alone, because Boyfriend had work to do today. I hadn’t gone 20 steps down the driveway when I bumped a deer – right where we’d spooked that forkie the day before. But I couldn’t see what it was. Too dark.

I circled around to the place where we’d seen the first deer of the day on Saturday, and as I made my way to an oak tree I could back up to, I bumped another deer that I could hear, but not see.

Crap. Would this be the only time I’d see the deer here?

The answer was yes. I spent nearly two hours under that tree and watched all variety of geese and ducks and woodpeckers, and heard not one but two flocks of turkeys down the hill from me. But not a single four-legged critter came by. And with the wind swirling all over the place, it was no surprise – my scent had to be stinking up the whole area. The only excitement had been hearing rifle fire from somewhere nearby. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Damn, either you’re not a good shot, or you’re not hunting…

I decided to bail.

I walked back to the pond where we’d bumped the forkie to see if he’d make the same mistake twice, but he wasn’t there.

It was 8:40 and I hadn’t seen squat. But I decided to make one last swing – down to the creek, then back up to where I’d started – before calling it quits.

I walked down the trail toward the creek quietly, scanning the big, open hillside where we’d bumped the does the day before, wondering where they were now.

Then I saw antlers sticking up out of the dry grass. They were attached to a head that was pointed my way.

Where I saw antlers

My heart leapt into my throat and the rest of my body went the other direction, sinking slowly toward the ground, right there in the middle of the trail. I set up my shooting sticks, raised the gun and took at better look at what I’d seen – a lone forked-horn buck bedded down, broadside to me, about 80 yards away. He was looking my direction, but the wind was in my face, so he couldn’t smell me, and he clearly wasn’t spooked.

My stick was positioned too low, so I slowly reached for each of the legs and extended them a bit. Looked through the scope again. Still a forked-horn – looked like the one we’d seen the day before. Shooting stick was still too low.

One more adjustment and it was perfect. And the buck still wasn’t moving.

But boy, my gun was. My heart was thumping wildly.

Calm down, calm down, calm down, I told myself. I put the crosshairs on where I thought his vitals should be, but the grass obscured his body.

No need to take that shot, I told myself. He’d have to get up soon – his nice shady spot was starting to get sun.

Calm down, calm down, calm down.

I kept the scope on his vitals, but my eyes kept wandering to his antlers. A forkie may be no big deal in whitetail country, but this was a respectable deer. A legal target. My heart raced more.

Just look at his ribcage.

After five minutes, I finally calmed down enough that I felt I could take a shot.

If he’d just get up. He seemed to be in no hurry. He looked this way and that. No hurry.

My arms trembled from holding the gun steady for so long.

Finally, the buck heaved – rear end up first, then the front. He took a step, quartering slightly toward me. I put the crosshairs behind his elbow and the rest of what happened became a crystalline memory.

BOOM!

He staggered a few steps and dropped. Good!

He got back up. Problem?

Even without the scope I could see a bloody hole in his ribcage, glistening in the sunshine that had ended his nap. Good hit – definitely hit lungs.

He wobbled, and collapsed.

Yes! These are the shots I dream of. Not some botched shot that sends an animal into the woods to suffer until I find him, maybe dead, maybe alive. The shot that takes him down before he knows what happened. No suffering; just rapid death.

I watched the spot, then checked my watch. Boyfriend and I had gone over the what-if scenarios the night before. How long should I wait if I shoot a deer and it runs? How long if he just drops on the spot?

Ten minutes, just to be safe. It was 8:54:03.

I was trembling uncontrollably. I peeled off my gloves, jacket and hat and watched the spot to make sure he didn’t get up. For a moment, I saw the grass twitch spasmodically where the deer had fallen. Not struggle; just the nerve reactions that follow death. I’ve never killed a deer before, but I know what that looks like.

I glanced at my watch. 8:57.

Oh my God, I got a deer!

“Thank you,” I said out loud. For the deer’s sacrifice. For the dumb luck that had allowed me to spot him, and to take the time to regain my composure, and to be presented with a perfect shot.

I looked at my watch every 30 seconds, and finally it was time. I marched up the slope and searched the knee-high star thistle. There. On the ground. Eyes open and tongue out. Dead.

He looked a little smaller than I’d thought from where I shot him, but I didn’t care – he was a good looking deer.

I went back up to the house to get some things – like Boyfriend’s truck, which I could take down the trail. I saw Peg and John at the house.

“We heard seven shots!” John said.

“Only one was mine,” I said. “The last one.”

They seemed relieved. “John was saying, ‘She must not be a very good shot…’ ” Peg said.

I laughed, and told them I needed to get back to the deer to field dress it.

But first, I needed a picture. I’d brought my camera, a tripod and a remote control, so I could take a picture of myself:

The gutting was a pain. The biggest mammal I’ve ever dressed was a jack rabbit, so this was more challenging. I struggled through it and got almost everything out. That’s when I noticed the very full bladder still attached. I felt around it, trying to figure out how to liberate it without emptying it all over the meat, with the animal lying on its side on a gentle slope. I was stumped.

Blood up to my elbows, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Boyfriend. “How do I get the &^@#! bladder out?” I yelled. His answer was not helpful. I went back to the deer, and after several attempts, hoisted him up by his hind legs to get the bladder hanging, pinched off the tube leading into it, cut the tube and tossed the bladder a safe distance away.

Whew!

And here’s where I felt really blessed to be hunting where I was: I was able to drop the tailgate of the pickup, angle it toward the hillside, and drag the deer 20 yards to the bed of the pickup. Total luxury!

I went back to the house to get the remainder of my stuff and gave thanks to my hosts. Peg looked at me – bloody and stinking – with what looked like a mix of intrigue and horror. She was totally cool with the hunting, but for all I know, this was her closest encounter with freshly-killed meat.

“All right,” I said. “I’d give you a hug, but I’m disgusting and smelly, so I’m just going to get out of here.”

On the drive home, I began texting and calling my hunting friends to share the news. I’d tucked the deer well into the bed of the pickup so nothing would stick out, but honestly, I had the urge to parade him around and show everyone: I’d just gotten a deer. By myself! My first deer ever. A blacktail! I just wanted someone in a taller vehicle than mine to look into the bed of that truck and give me the nod of approval.

I was amused by my reaction. I’ve not really cared that I hadn’t gotten a deer in my previous three years of hunting, but I was as proud and excited as if it had been a lifelong goal.

When I got home, I got what I was looking for. I found Boyfriend working in the garden, but he came to me immediately to give his stinky, bloody girlfriend a big hug. He was proud of me – I’d done it on my own.

I kept grinning through the rest of our work breaking down the deer, and wondered why I was so taken with the experience.

“I think we’re just hardwired to hunt deer,” he said. “We’ve been hunting deer since before we were ‘we.’ ”

Maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s the odds. I’d gotten my Second Chance buck on my sixth day of deer hunting ever. Statistics say it takes 33 days of hunting to get one. Phillip had told me it’d taken him four years to get a blacktail.

Maybe it’s the antlers – the thing that allows you to instantly measure your quarry. This was the first antlered animal I’d killed.

Maybe it was the fact that I’d done it myself. Sorta. While I was alone at that moment, the reality is that every action I took was influenced by what I’d learned from people like Boyfriend, Phillip and even random TV shows. But I’d made all the decisions. I’d spotted the antlers in the grass. I’d taken the good shot.

I don’t know. I probably won’t figure it out tonight. I may not figure it out ever. But for now, I’m just happy.

© Holly A. Heyser 2009

For more stories from Holly go to www.norcalcazadora.com

See the original article at CampWildGirls.com

A Little Outdoor and Indoor News

A couple of things I’d like to mention today:

Outdoor News:

Norcal Cazadora’s first deer:
Congratulations to Holly for harvesting her first deer. It was a spot and stalk but not tackle like my deer. But I tell you, Holly always amazes me. Not only did she harvest her first deer but she did it all alone.

Stacey Huston’s cover shot:
This months Primitive Archer magazine features Stacey Huston’s photograph on their cover. Congratulations to her and what a beautiful cover shot.

The Book by Dayne Shuda:
Dayne Shuda of Hunting Business Marketing has written The Book for simple strategies for marketing your hunting business on the web. Even if you’re blogger running an outdoor site, there are many helpful tips and strategies to help you market your name on the web.

Outdoor giveaway:
Ben G. Outdoors is giving away 4 great prizes on his blog. Muck boots from Hank’s Clothing, A Warrior Outdoors Hoodie, A Magnet Gun Caddy from Spec Tech and a copy of Warrior Outdoors Rack Attack. All you have to do is leave a comment telling Ben G. what you’d like to see more of on his blog.

Indoor news:

Wednesday’s at The Hunter’s Wife:

Starting on Wednesday’s here on my blog I’m going to share certain conversations I’ve had over the week with a particular person that made me laugh, made me think or made me want to smack them. Tomorrow will be an interesting conversation I had with my Mother the other night.

Have a great day all!

See the original article at TheHuntersWife.net

12 yr. Old Hannah Goes Hunting Bear!

I met Hannah at the youth bear hunt when I was interviewing the kids that the ABC Sportsmen’s Club had sponsored. This spunky little gal was raring to go and told me she would be on a hunting show some day! You go Girl!

 Here is 12 year old Hannah’s Bear Hunt in her own words:

 The first day we went out and we checked on the baits in the beginning of the day. We saw 2 cubs alone and there was 1 mother and 3 cubs. It was a good sized mother, but of course you can’t shoot a mother with cubs. Then at around 2 o’clock we looked at one bait, and we saw medium sized tracks and we guessed around a 200 pound bear.

 We got ready and we decided to go after it. We let 1 dog go and started to hear the howling and we let 3 more and then another 2. They all started howling and we kept going back and forth and back and forth because they kept on running on the bear tracks for 2 hours because the bear would not go up a tree.

 The bear was running in circles. My guide Larry noticed there were 3 dogs going in one direction and 3 dogs going in the other and it was weird because we think there was a small 100 pound (bear) and another 200 pound bear. Three dogs were chasing after one and 3 dogs were chasing after the other. We put 3 more (dogs) out there and we ended up with the 100 or so pound bear up a tree.

 We had to walk at least a mile out in the woods and we found it. It was up in a tree and it was about 125 pounds.

 We were getting the dogs tied back and getting ready to shoot and it went down the tree. It ran out and he let the dogs go again. Larry asked if  

I wanted to go for a different one and I said no because none of the other kids had one yet at this time.  

 Our truck was way over on the other side and we were closer to some trucks on this side of the woods where there were other people that helped us. He (Larry) went to get our truck and we heard howling really close to us. One of the other hunters came back and he said that the bear was on the side of the road up in a tree.

 We ran down the road and there it was up a tree and all the dogs were there. Then I shot it once and got it in the lungs and then it climbed up the tree. We didn’t know if I missed it or not. It was weird and then we hit it again, I think in the neck and it still wouldn’t drop. So we hit it 1 more time and it finally dropped. It weighed about 125 pounds.

Hannah’s first words when she saw the bear were “I can’t believe this! It’s like I’m dreaming”.

 A big THANK YOU to the Medford Hunter Safety Instructors, Ashland Bayfield County Sportsmen Club, Bayfield County Wisconsin DNR Warden Pat Quaintance, and Guide Larry Leer of Ettrick, WI and his entire crew of awesome Hunters for making this little girl’s unbelievable wish happen.

 Youth can sign up for the WI LTBH (Learn to Bear Hunt) program on the  WI DNR webpage or at a DNR Service Center or at a hunter’s safety class.

One more note: Hannah has also taken her first deer in the WI Youth hunt last weekend. Congratulations Hannah.

See the original article at CampWildGirls.com

Happy Anniversary

It’s our 10 year anniversary today and I wanted to wish my husband Mark a happy anniversary and thank him for putting up with me.  I know it hasn’t been easy living with a girl that can’t even take a fish off a hook without a handy wipe.

And after seeing what his fingers look like, ouch. Bluegills poke and that would hurt my little fingers.

And while he cleans over 700 fish, he lets me sit and relax.  After about 5 minutes I’m bored, so I take pictures of myself. Then when we get home and he sees our pictures I hear, “What are you doing? Your flapper is on your forehead.”  Except he used the right word for flapper.

Or when I take pictures like this one he has to be all serious like, “What are you doing now?” Me, “Taking a picture of the crusty worm guts on my leg.”

There are times he doesn’t think I’m funny. Well…most of the time.  So this is why when I do the things I do, I make sure he doesn’t see me.  And I almost got caught with his 6 pointer.   I was almost on a made dash with his deer.  Morning news: Crazy chick with fake deer running down the street.

But he’s my driver…

And he takes my fish off the hook.

And he cleans all my fish.

While I…ummm…yea..

I luv him!

Have a good day all … and for those of you who follow me on Twitter, I might have to bring out the tinkies or the hoppes.  It is our anniversary you know!

See the original article at TheHuntersWife.net

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