My journey into suburban hunting has begun. A wonderful priest I know took up this amazing sport (lifestyle...) and encouraged me to start. My grandfather was an avid hunter, and hunted all the land around this area. However, in his day, there were no deer, but lots of other game. There were also acres and acres of open space that have now been developed. I have always wanted to hunt. It has been a dream of mine to do this since I was child, but the opportunities were never there. My father was not around, and even if he was, he was not the sort of man to be interested in things like hunting.
Enter my amazing priest friend who took up the sport. We were speaking about hunting and he said "I have some extra Scent Lok and some other things I would be happy to gift you. Why not take the course and get your license?" So I did. As is typical of me, I also began reading... voraciously. The first book I read was the classic "Hunting with the Bow and Arrow" by Saxton Pope. This is an amazing book (but highly dated). It is an incredibly important book though in the history of bow hunting in this country, and it is in the public domain, so I strongly recommend reading it. The link above after all is free!
I watched tons of videos, read more and more, and prepared. As I watched and studied, it occurred to me that if I was to be successful, I would have to come to grips with the fact that I live in a very suburban / urban area and state, and that there are few places to go with tons of acres of wilderness. To be successful, I was going to have to learn to hunt suburbia, and hunt private land, and small parcels of it at that. I would hunt the same land my grandfather hunted, even if now it was much more developed, and even if now White Tail were plentiful and everywhere, whereas in grandpa's day the only place to see them was upstate New York. This re-population, by the way, has taken place thanks to the hunting community. Would that so called environmentalists would understand what they so frequently criticize.
I have pursued this lifestyle for one year, and because of good mentorship, preparation, and reading have been successful right from the beginning. I have decided to keep this blog about my hunting adventures so that others can comment and teach me, and so that we can have a conversation about this lifestyle which has quickly taken over most of my thoughts and dreams outside of faith, family, and career (hunters will know what I am talking about). It is my intent to blog about every trip, to keep a diary of my adventures, so that you can benefit from my experiences and learn from my mistakes, and hopefully teach me in the comments section. I do hope for readers, I do not want my hunting be entirely solitary. Like most "moderns" I long for true community, and I hope we can be one here.
My next entry will tell the story of the beautiful doe above, and how I know am blessed with a freezer full of wonderful, healthful, lean, organic, grass-fed meat.
Happy Hunting!
The Suburban Hunter.
The First Time Out
Hunting as a School of Patience
Taking my first deer (pictured above) was a life altering experience, and it happened the first time I ever went hunting. It was a bitterly cold morning the first day of hunting season, which in this state opened September 15th. My good friend, padre, had a agreed to go out with me, and sadly when I arrived at our meeting spot he was already there waiting for me for almost a half hour. I thought "on what planet is 5:30AM on a Saturday morning late," and consoled myself with memories of when padre had kept me waiting for awhile. One thing padre will likely never be late for however is hunting, and being late will result in a bit of ribbing. Lesson learned.
We were up in our tree stands by 6:15AM, just in time to start hunting (you can begin 30 minutes before the official sunrise time in our state), but not in time to lazily watch the sunrise from our stands. The truth is I was running about thirty minutes late because I was so excited the night before I barely slept, and it wasn't long before I started to doze in the tree stand. My safety harness kept me almost upright but my head bobbed as I tried to stay alert as much as possible. I felt good about the fact that I had gotten the climbing tree stand to work without problem and that I had become fit enough to climb the tree without breaking a sweat.
Our tree stands were about 20 yards apart, so there was no way to talk or communicate except hand signals. It struck me that there was a tremendous amount of time to pray, and I found myself praying almost immediately and naturally. I struggled to keep from nodding off not only so I could stay alert for deer, but also so that I could stay focused on prayer. One only needs ten fingers to say a rosary, and it is noiseless to do so. Most of the time though is spent on contemplation, trying to take in the beauty around you while trying to be as invisible (and scentless) as possible. Yes, I dozed quite a bit that first time out in the early morning, but to the extent that I was able to stay alert, it was thanks to prayer and contemplation.
The other prayers that went up were ones requesting my "family" pray for me. St. Francis was the obvious choice, and I prayed diligently asking for a deer to come. "Who is the patron saint of hunters?" I wondered, and vowed to look it up. I haven't yet.
At around 11:00 I had the obvious thought that most hunters come to understand as basic: hunting is not harvesting, and it is not catching. There is no guarantee. Obviously, I am a bit slow on the uptake. For most this knowledge would be natural and instantaneous. I take awhile, and that such an obvious thought would strike me as interesting and novel is proof of just how "green" I am. It occurred to me that a big part of this was going to be sitting silently in a tree stand waiting for... nothing to happen. I found the thought comforting and consoling, and humorous.
Patience certainly is a virtue, but it is absolutely not one of my strong suits, and in fact my lack of patience, especially with people who are closest to me, is a serious weakness. In this way, as I go hunting more and more, hunting is becoming a school for me, especially of the virtues.
Aquinas has quite a bit to say about patience. But, for me, all I know is this: it is impossible for me to have patience without grace, because I am a horribly impatient person. The feeling of comfort and consolation that I had when I recognized the fact that this was likely to just be a long, and cold, day up in a tree could only come from one place. Every time I have experienced comfort and consolation in my life, it has been an unearned gift of grace. I experienced real grace, then and there, in a tree stand on a 3 acre wooded plot in suburbia. I am grateful beyond words that my long suffering and wonderful wife allows me to do this.
My ruminations were interrupted with an urgent "psst!" I looked over at Padre and he pointed at his eyes, and then pointed towards the woods to our left. We both stood up slowly our stands... adrenaline started to run. I began to see more clearly and hear more clearly. I could hear the hum of laser range finder as I scanned for the deer and checked distances. Up to this point I thought it was silent. It was eerie. I didn't think about "cute" or "beautiful." I thought about food, and the hunt, and oddly about the welfare of the deer. I prayed to St. Francis that the animal would come, and that he would take care of the animal in death, through the intercession of Christ, that there would be minimal pain, and that the sacrifice would result in meat for my family....
And nothing happened.
Padre shrugged. False alarm. I sad down and smirked, found myself relaxing again. Not five minutes after that, the animals came (2 of them, both does). They came in towards our food cube like they were on a string. I stood up slowly and took my bow off the hook, and quietly attached my release. I aimed at the larger of the two and shot. The deer jumped, just as I had seen in videos, but did not run far like I expected. She ran about 10 feet, and stopped and looked around. I sat down. (Padre had already said the first deer was mine... he didn't get one that day...)
I could see her still. I watched her carefully and shook like crazy. I thought it was the cold at first, but it was definitely adrenaline. She bed down, and was in eyesight the entire time. So there was no need to track her, but I did just for practice.
My freezer is now full of wonderful, grass-fed, organic meat, and I am thoroughly hooked on this lifestyle. I do believe that I will learn to be a better person for having done this.
My next plan is to bring my eldest daughter with me.
Do any readers out there have experience bringing your daughters or sons hunting? Do you have any thoughts on how to teach them the patience necessary as we go, or any cool stories about taking your own children hunting?
I would love to hear your thoughts and stories.
Thanks for reading!
The Suburban Hunter
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