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Zen Hunting

Dealing With Failure in Hunting

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Dealing Failure in Hunting

Whenever you fall, pick something up. –Oswald Avery

If you are following this blog, then I apologize for my absence. My last post was over a month ago. Work obligations are somewhat to blame, but more than that, it’s been my lack of inspiration following a long and difficult hunting season.

When the general season ended with no new venison in the freezer, I was somewhat perplexed. What did I do wrong? Going in, I was convinced I’d unlocked the secret to bagging big bucks. But try as I might, I couldn’t do it. Immediately following the hunt, I  felt deflated and uninspired. Five weeks later, I’m just starting to realize that failure is exactly what I needed to keep my ego in check. How can a person ever fully understand big bucks in the first place? It’s impossible. They are brilliant, highly adaptable survivors!

All told, I spent 13 days hunting hard all over my prescribed unit, but never drew my bow on a buck. At the same time, I could have shot at least a dozen small bucks–mostly 2- and 3-points–but I was holding out for a trophy. This is what caused me so much grief. No matter how much ground I covered, and no matter how high I went, I was disappointed by the low numbers of mature bucks. I knew I could find them if they existed, but they were almost non-existent. Of the 50+ bucks I saw, only two were mature bucks in the 170-180″ class range; barely trophies in my book. Long story short, these bucks were either inaccessible or the stalk failed for one reason or another. Either way, the problem is with how few big deer there are anymore.

In observing so many deer in the wild, I was blown away by the sheer brilliance of the modern mule deer and the ways in which it’s adapted to avoid modern hunters.  Their survival tactics seem well thought out and highly effective. For instance, some of the largest bucks would keep does between them and the timberline as a sort of security fence. Basically, a bowhunter would have to get through a string of does to get to the bucks, making it nearly impossible to hunt them. This and many other evasive tactics were documented and will be covered in my next blog-post.

So the hunt was a failure, but only because I failed to provide meat for my family. At the same time, the hunt was a huge success. The countless hours spent sitting alone in nature, watching sunrises and sunsets, creeping through the dark timber, and observing innumerable animals going about their business–all these things stirred my soul and rejuvenated my being. Life’s daily problems  and stresses melted away. I saw the hand of God through all his creations, and all questions about the purpose of life were answered.

Fortunately the hunt isn’t over yet. The extended hunt began where the general season ended. Now, the extended hunt can be extremely difficult due to high hunting pressure, dry and noisy leaves on the ground, and the low numbers of scattered deer. At the same time, the odds go up when the snow flies and pushes big bucks down from the high country and concentrates them on the lower elevation windswept slopes. This occurs in mid-November, and that’s where my hunt will resume.

Yes, I failed to harvest a deer, but the season isn’t over yet. I still have an unused deer tag and an elk tag in my pocket, and I will succeed in providing meat for my family. I have learned humility through failure. I have found my inspiration and I’m full of hope. I still believe in Zen hunting, and through the process of Zen hunting, success is still a decision.

Hunting Stories

My 40-Inch Dream

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(Published in Eastman’s Bowhunting Journal, Issue 81, January/February 2014)

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My 40-Inch Dream:  2013 Deer Hunting Story

Twenty yards in front of me, a small 3-point buck with scraggly antlers ran back and forth snorting up a storm. I knew him; he was a sentinel. I knew him because I knew his mentor. Ignoring the flailing 3-point, I peered deep into the dark timber beyond. Sure enough, sixty yards downhill and partially obscured by trees, stood a familiar, square-racked, giant four-point mule deer. He hadn’t seen me but was alerted by his sentinel’s crazy warning system. Before I could even pull an arrow, he suddenly blasted away taking the squirrely 3-point with him…again. This was my third and last encounter with that big 4-point during the 2011 archery season.

I slowly rose from my knees and dropped my bow to my side. I stared blankly at the woods with a sickening sense of déjà vu. Like most mature bucks in Northern Utah, I knew this buck was essentially unhuntable, just like the infamous 33” double-droptine buck that I somehow managed to harvest in 2010. I spent three long years hunting that droptine buck and I knew for a long time that he too was unhuntable. Yet forces beyond my comprehension put me directly in the droptine’s path that last day of the 2010 season. But hunting the same buck for so long was just agonizing, and I wasn’t about to do it again. I needed a new area. I needed new blood.

I didn’t harvest a deer in 2011, but I did come out of the woods with a valuable new insight: If an area can grow one giant deer—especially in this day and age—it can grow another. I learned this after finding that big 4×4 living in all the same places that the droptine buck lived. Apparently, one giant buck replaces another.

Fast forward one year.

While hunting elk in 2012, I had the misfortune of blowing two tires while driving out of the rough mountains in Southern Utah. As I was being towed back to town, I struggled to start up a conversation with the quiet and sullen after-hours tow truck driver. I asked him if he knew of any good elk areas, and he gave me a couple vague tips. But when I brought up deer hunting (my true passion), his eyes lit up.

As it turned out, KC (the tow truck driver/shop worker) had a passion for deer equal to mine. Soon, we were in a long, rambunctious conversation about big bucks and past triumphs. When I told him about my infamous droptine buck, he responded, “I remember that deer! That was you!?” We talked about big bucks for the next three hours and before I left with four new tires, he informed me of a giant buck he’s seen a couple years ago—it was the biggest buck he’d ever seen, estimated forty inches wide. Since KC didn’t hunt that particular unit, he was happy to tell me where to go look for it. I took careful notes and then went on my way. I knew the odds of relocating the mythical 40-incher were slim, especially since I’d never set foot in that part of the unit. But still, if an area could grow one giant buck…

And thus began my 40-inch dream. Fast forward one more year.

Gambling on the information I received from KC, I drew my 2013 general archery tag for Southern Utah. In May I tried scouting the “40-inch area,” but the mountains proved too wet and inaccessible that early in the year. I planned a second trip in July, but life just got in the way. I didn’t return to Southern Utah until the archery opener, and since I still wasn’t familiar with the 40-inch area I spent the first week hunting a different area.

I don’t like hunting the season opener. I especially don’t like the heat or all the competition, or bucks in velvet for that matter. But there I was, hunting the opener with my friend Scott. As expected, there were quite a few bucks around; we would see close to twenty per day. The problem was that they were all small bucks. For five days we saw dozens of 2- and 3-points, but no shooters. I’d seen this before and there’s a name for it: Nursery. Nursery areas are bad for trophy hunters because, although there are lots of deer around, they are all small. By the time a nursery buck matures, he becomes territorial and runs off to find his own mountain to live on.

So, on the last day of the hunt we drove to the purported 40-inch area. This time we found a better route up the mountain. I could tell right away that it wasn’t a nursery because, a) there were hardly any deer, and b) the terrain was treacherous to say the least.

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The next morning Scott and I scaled some cliffs and entered what appeared to be the right area. We split up and by late afternoon I finally located a bachelor herd of bucks bedded in some open grass. The biggest buck was a tall, 25-inch four-point with deep forks. The next biggest was a trashy 5-point. Since these were the biggest bucks I’d seen all week, I decided to make a stalk. My first attempt was foiled when it started raining. The bucks quickly unbedded and wandered into the trees. I made a second stalk and was almost within bow range when a moo-cow wandered right into the deer and scared them off. I followed their tracks and on my third stalk it got dark before I could get close. My hunt ended right then and there, and the next morning I made the long drive back home.

As bleak as the opener was, it wasn’t a complete failure. The highlight of the whole week was an arrowhead I found on opening morning while exploring a remote area. When I stopped to glass the opposite hillside, I laid my bow on the ground and noticed a shiny, black arrowhead lying there. I got goose bumps. I always suspected I was following the same instincts and same paths as ancient hunters, but on this day there was proof lying right next to my bow. It was a magical, serendipitous moment.

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Two weeks later I returned to the 40-inch area with my lovely wife Esther. On Sunday night we hiked into the area with a week’s worth of supplies on our backs. By the time we found a flat spot to pitch our tent, we were pouring sweat and exhausted. We spent the evening bathing in a creek rather than hunting.

The next morning we woke before light and headed out. I gave Esther my GPS and sent her to the last known location of the bucks from my previous trip. My plan was to skirt the entire area in hopes of finding even bigger deer…like maybe a 40-incher…

Well, that didn’t happen. Instead, I found no bucks whatsoever. The mountain was just too big and too new and my hopes of finding a respectable buck were dwindling. That was okay though; I figured if there weren’t any deer, I’d enjoy whatever else nature had to offer. With elk bugling around me, I pulled out my camcorder and spent the long, hot part of the day stalking and videotaping multiple bugling bulls.

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While enjoying the elk show, I remembered a conversation I had with Scott towards the end of our last trip. We were both frustrated, and in a sarcastic way I said, “Ya know, there’s only one thing I love more than big bucks.”

“What’s that?” he asked, somewhat disinterested.

“Nature!” I exclaimed. “When I’m in the woods I just love seeing grand vistas, the clear blue skies, and the bright stars at night. I love the clean, crisp air and the ice cold spring water. I enjoy picking up interesting rocks and eating wild berries off the vine. I enjoy reading the deer sign, examining tree rubs, and listening to elk bugling. And in the end, after spending all that time simply enjoying nature, a buck seems to just come along. The bucks are secondary to the process. That’s usually how it happens for me, anyway.”

I don’t think Scott responded.

And so that’s what I did. There were no deer, but the mountains kept me entertained and happy. I didn’t get back to camp until way after dark. The funny thing was, the closer I got to camp the more fresh deer sign I noticed. In fact, the most concentrated tracks and droppings were located within a few hundred yards of our camp! Could it be that we haphazardly pitched our tent right in the deer’s bedroom? Later that night, while eating rehydrated meals, I told Esther about my deery discovery. We decided to wake up early the next morning and hunt close to camp.

We woke early to a heavy rain and promptly went back to bed.

The rain finally quit around 8:30, and by 9:00 we were hiking directly uphill from camp. Sure enough, we found some big, blocky tracks in the fresh mud. Not much farther we heard a commotion in the trees. It sounded like squirrels harvesting pinecones…but there was something else. I turned to Esther and said, “There’s more going on than just squirrels!” As we inched forward, I caught sight of a small pine tree waving back and forth thirty yards ahead. I quickly nocked an arrow and tip-toed closer. The tree stopped waiving and I drew. When the buck passed through a clearing, I let down my draw. It was an average three-point; nothing special. Although I had no interest in shooting a “small” buck, Esther was much less complacent. When the buck moved out of sight, Esther nocked an arrow and we crept stealthfully in its direction. We hadn’t made it very far, however, when we were suddenly blind-sided by a big four-point buck that wandered leisurely out of the trees to our right. He took one look at us and spun around, taking the three-point and one other buck with him. Luckily, they weren’t too spooked and slowed to a walk as they moved up the hillside. I could only make out bits and pieces through the dense trees, but two of the bucks seemed to be carrying heavy headgear.

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The thermals were beginning to rise so we decided to split up. I would circle above the bucks while she stayed below in case I busted them back down the mountain. For the next hour I circled high above the last sighting of the deer, carefully scanning the trees as I went. I was certain I’d either find them bedded or at least cross their tracks. But they were nowhere to be found. Eventually I began working back downhill towards the last place we saw them. Worst case, I could always track them from there. Another hour passed as I carefully inched forward. The bucks were sure to be bedded, and in my experience there’s nothing harder than stalking deer in their beds. Finally, my GPS told me I was within 250 feet of where we left them.

It happened fast. I was skirting around a steep, tree-tangled slope when a deer suddenly stood up behind a large pine tree twenty yards away. I pulled and nocked an arrow in record time which was good because the buck was nervous and started moving downhill quickly. I drew my bow and scanned ahead for a shooting lane. The buck that appeared in the opening was a giant! Instinctively, I let out a n’yoo sound. He paused and whipped his head in my direction. I settled the pin and touched the trigger. My arrow jumped from the string and zipped right through him. Never before had a hunt transpired so quickly!

The huge buck blasted away, but then  paused for a couple seconds to let his four-point buddy catch up. He dropped his head for a second and I could tell he was hit hard. Then, the two bucks bounded down the mountain together.

I think the rain began the very second my arrow left my bow. I looked up and cursed the skies. Experience tells me that rain is bad news for a blood trail. I started tracking early and with some definite urgency. Fortunately, the heavy blood trail, accompanied by large, dug-in tracks, made my job easy. About 200 yards from the shot location, I could see where the buck had paused. There was a deep elk track completely filled with fresh blood. I plunged my finger to the bottom of it, painting my finger red to my second knuckle. I knew the buck wouldn’t be far. Still, he’d covered way more ground than I hoped; tough buck! Not wanting to bump him, I carefully scanned ahead, hoping to see him piled up. The last thing I wanted was a long tracking job in the rain.

Scanning even farther ahead, my heart suddenly leapt at the sight of a large, grey body lying on the opposite hillside 100 yards away. He still had his head up, but I could tell he was fading. He was even bigger than I thought. From behind, his tall and sprawling rack looked like a caribou, with trash and stickers going everywhere. The buck had made it across a ravine but collapsed while climbing the steep, opposite slope. Just then, the other buck—his four-point companion—came prancing down the hill towards him. In disbelief, the big bruiser buck rose up on wobbly legs. Again, I started to worry, but only for a second because instead of prancing up the mountain, he took three steps and began running sideways, then flipped over upside-down. When he lay motionless, I sighed with relief and thanked God for such a beautiful gift.

I pulled out my walkie-talkie and hailed Esther. “I just shot a giant buck,” I whispered. “Come help me…”

Half an hour later, we cautiously approached the fallen monarch. I’ve walked up on a few impressive animals before, but this one was out of control: extra mass, extra points, extra eye-guards…extra everything! This was no ordinary buck. This was the next level. This was Superbuck! What caught my attention right away was his mass which he carried all the way to the points. I could barely fit my hands around his bases.

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Superbuck may not be the mythical 40-incher that brought me to the mountain, but he’s the buck of my dreams. How could you ask for anything more? Emerson once wrote, “We aim above the mark to hit the mark.” I have no doubt that this mountain could actually grow a 40-inch deer, but I won’t be greedy. I have achieved more with my bow than I ever dreamed of. Superbuck is a buck of a lifetime…again…and I can’t wait to see the buck that replaces him. For the record, Superbuck was entered into the books with a net score of 193 2/8 and a gross score of 205 5/8”.

From this relatively short hunt, I am reminded of all the same lessons I’ve learned from a relatively long life: Dream big, set lofty goals, and take risks. Do whatever it takes to get close, then let Nature unfold on its own terms.

Thanks KC; your tip was right on. Thanks almighty God for allowing me two blown tires; from lemons come lemonade, blessings in disguise. Most of all, thanks Esther for being there during all my greatest hunts. I almost always hunt alone, but when I hunt with you, miracles happen.

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Zen Hunting

Deer Hunting: Art or Science?

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Deer Hunting: Art or Science?

Is deer hunting more art or science? What a great question!

A year ago I had an interesting conversation with a non-hunter about art and science and how it relates to hunting. Now, this non-hunter has a friend who loves hunting more than anything, but his results over the years have been very poor. The hunter is not only a scientist by profession, but a scientist in just about every other facet of life. Almost everything he does is calculated and planned out, with little left to chance. In other words, he’s an extreme left-brain oriented person.

In contrast, I’m a real right-brain oriented person. I’m an artist not only by profession, but in most other ways as well. So, my only common ground with the scientist is our love for hunting. This got me thinking.

If you aren’t familiar with the difference between left and right brains, maybe this comparison will help:

Characteristics of left-brainers:

  1. They tend to be numbers oriented.
  2. They are very rules oriented
  3. They are facts oriented
  4. They tend to be less open to abstract ideas such as religion, mysticism, romance, etc.
  5. They are more confident, but also more close-minded
  6. They tend to be politically conservative
  7. They tend to be more financially successful

In contrast, here are some characteristics of right-brainers:

  1. They are art oriented
  2. They are more intuitive and open-minded
  3. They have a general distrust for science, facts, and numbers
  4. They are more hopeful and romantic
  5. They have more politically liberal views
  6. They are more visually oriented

Ideally, a person is perfectly balanced between the two, meaning the two halves of their brain work together rather than one dominating the other. Most people are balanced somewhere between the two extremes, but some people aren’t. Being extreme one way or the other is actually dangerous because it means we are close-minded and prone to mistakes, or even mental disorders.

How does being left- or right-brained affect hunting success?

When a person bags a giant buck, the scientist will immediately begin assessing the facts surrounding the event. Where, when, and how did this hunter come to arrow such a great trophy? If the scientist can just answer these simple questions, then a formula can be assigned and implemented in the future, right?

But in real-life, hunting doesn’t always work that way. For instance, what if the hunter just wandered into a section of unknown woods on a hunch and stumbled into a big buck. Miraculously, the buck didn’t notice the hunter who immediately sent an arrow sailing perfectly through its heart. End of story for the average hunter, but a great mystery for the scientist. None of the scientist’s questions are answered, and so there can be only one possible explanation: sheer, lethal luck. And the scientist knows that absolutely nothing can be learned from luck, so all the data must be dismissed. Could it be that the scientist is asking the wrong questions?

In contrast, the artist views hunting as art. Yeah, there might be a little science thrown in, such as knowledge of deer behavior and the physics of his bow, but the true artist-hunter glides fearlessly along a path of infinite variables and gut feelings. He might begin the day with a basic plan or direction in mind, but he almost immediately veers away from preconceptions and ends up in mysterious places he hadn’t considered before. The scientist may do this occasionally, but the unknown is usually avoided. Scientists tend to stick with the plan at all costs.

As an artist, I’m probably a little biased. I see the purely scientific approach to hunting as a triple threat to success. The first problem is over-planning. The scientist has probably stared at a map for so long that he just knows where the deer will be based on a number of physical factors. Now nothing can lead him away from his plan. The second problem is over-packing. He is aware that the woods are full of infinite challenges, variables, and dangers, so he overfills his pack. This in turn slows him down and makes him noisier. The third problem is ignoring intuition. The scientist is still prone to intuition and a heightened sense of awareness just like every other hunter, however he is less likely to respond to mysterious forces like hunches, intuition, premonitions, gut feelings, etc. This narrows his vision by ignoring the gentle prodding’s of Nature.

Game over. The results are in and the winner is…

The Artist.

But scientists don’t despair. Anyone can change. The first step to becoming more artistic in hunting is to admit you’re a left-brainer. This can be a challenge since left-brained people don’t always see the value of using the right brain, particularly when it comes to hunting. At this point you need to take an honest assessment of your hunting success. Has all your planning paid off? Could there be more to hunting than sheer science and numbers?

For you left-brainers out there I urge you to read back over my previous blog-posts entitled Zen in Hunting: Part 1, 2, 3. The left-brainer might scoff at such mystical forces as Zen, but I feel like it’s the top contributor to my hunting success. I believe there are forces beyond our comprehension that want us to succeed and are willing to help us, if only we keep an open mind. Gather the data, formulate a hypothesis, and then let go and let Nature be your guide. Go with the flow.

That’s what Zen bowhunting is all about.

Zen Hunting

Secret Bowhunting Tip #6: Put in the Time

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Secret Bowhunting Tip: Putting in the Time

Bowhunting in August sometimes feels like doing time. Spending sixteen hours straight in the woods can be incredibly boring, hot, and seemingly futile. Because deer are most active in the morning and evening, most hunters return to camp for lunch and a nap during the day, and then head back to the field in the afternoon. But hunters beware: your odds of bagging a big buck at midday might be low, but your odds of bagging a buck at camp are near zero. However, if you learn a little bit about mule deer daytime habits, you can increase your odds of success.

In low hunter pressure areas, bucks bed down for the day around 9:00 a.m.  Between 11:00 a.m. and 1:00 p.m. deer get up for a short time to stretch, grab a quick bite, and maybe change beds to avoid the changing sun angle. Then, between 3:00 p.m. – 4:00 p.m. they unbed again to use the restroom. Depending on factors such as temperature, cloud cover, and pressure, bucks will either continue to feed or bed down until evening.

The reason we can count on these times is simple: Mule deer are browser-feeders and their digestive systems run like clockwork. Since a buck is most vulnerable when he rises from bed, we can watch for them to move during the slower midday hours.

When the hunters roll into high-pressured public areas, deer change their behavior quickly. The worst place I know of is Monte Cristo in Northern Utah. I’ve hunted this area for several years and never saw a big buck up and feeding during the day. Eating may be the primary drive for deer, but sheer survival is more important than eating.

When their lives are on the line, deer will bed before daylight and remain bedded all day until the sun goes down. They simply adopt a temporary nocturnal lifestyle in order to survive. When hunting nocturnal bucks, don’t get discouraged. They still exist somewhere; you just have to find them.

When the hunting pressure is on, bucks leave open country where they might live all summer and move to steep secondary ridges where there’s more protective cover. When looking for pressured bucks, begin your search in the steepest and thickest terrain possible. Sometimes they move to heavily wooded north-face, dark timber where elk like to live.

Learning a little about a deer’s diet will help you pin-point good secondary areas. Depending on the time of year, the primary food sources for deer in the West are bitterbrush, cliff rose, aspen leaves, and sage brush. It’s imperative that you learn you identify key food sources in your area. The best method to determine a deer’s primary food source is to cut the stomach open. Of course, you’ll have to harvest one first.

Once you’ve located these secondary ridges and hideouts–based on actual deer sightings, tracks and droppings, or other sign–the next step is to get there before first light. Deer that aren’t feeding midday still have to eat at night, and they won’t be traveling far to bed down for the day.

When hunting secondary ridges, start by still-hunting the steepest and thickest terrain you can find. Move very slowly and glass every ten steps or so. There’s nothing more difficult than hunting bedded bucks, but remember you have all day to do so!

It’s also a good idea to locate nearby water sources. Deer don’t require daily water because they get most of their moisture from the plants they eat. But they still need to water every few days, and even more frequently in hot, arid regions. Any small seep or spring will do. One way to locate water is too look for willows. Willows are easy to spot because of their tall, reddish stems. As an aside, deer also love to eat willow branches.

In my time, I’ve seen some real monster bucks up and feeding during midday, however, this is rare. Whenever possible, spend the entire day in the woods and it will eventually pay off. Hunt smarter, not harder. The fastest way to increase bowhunting success to put in more time afield.

For other “secret tips” to bowhunting success, refer back to these previous articles:

Secret Tip #1: Weight is Everything

Secret Tip #2: Success is a Decision

Secret Tip #3: Be Patient

Secret Tip #4: Hunt Alone

Secret Tip #5: Enlarge Your Consciousness

Secret Tip #6: Put in the Time

Zen Hunting

Secret Bowhunting Tip #2: Success is a Decision

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Secret Bowhunting Tip #2: Success is a Decision

It took me half a lifetime to really understand that success in bowhunting is a decision. Failure comes not from luck, but from failure to commit to the goal. The decision to succeed is not made a week or two before the hunt, but the very second the last season ends.

Setting Goals

In sharing this insight with other bowhunters, I’m usually met with some hesitation. They want to agree with the premise, but don’t really understand it. So let me explain:

When I make the decision to succeed—to arrow a great buck—I set a goal for the entire year. And it’s not just any goal, but the most difficult goal to reach. It’s so difficult because there are just too many variables in bowhunting and no guarantees. What if I simply can’t find a good buck this season?

By setting such a lofty goal, one’s mind begins making immediate preparations to accomplish it. Throughout the year, this goal is broken down into planning, studying, shooting, equipment preparations, mind-set, and a myriad of other sub-goals.

Keeping this primary goal in the forefront of my mind, I find myself making daily decisions to achieve it. One example is to block out my intended hunting dates on the calendar. No matter what opportunity or responsibility arises, I absolutely refuse to alter my schedule. This year alone I’ve turned down two potentially profitable jobs that would’ve interfered with my hunt dates.

Admittedly this can be very difficult for some people. Most jobs will allow one week off work, or two if you’re lucky. The sad fact is, if you let your all-important job interfere with your hunting schedule, then you can’t set the goal in the first place. The decision isn’t yours to make.

Setting such big goals sets a precedence upon which failure is not an option. If you are truly committed to a goal, subconsciously you will make mental and spiritual goals which you aren’t even aware of; goals which will seemingly magically bring you and your quarry together into a single space and time. I believe there are unseen forces in the universe that want you to succeed; that are willing to help you if you let them. You just have to want it bad enough. This is the only way to beat bad luck.

Conclusion

As mentally and physically prepared as I might be, bowhunting often feels overwhelming at times. I believe that bowhunting trophy bucks–both successfully and consistently–is the hardest thing a person can do. I also know that there are greater forces at work than I can ever understand which increase my odds. Some call it the power of positive thinking. Some call it Zen hunting.

There is nothing more magical than the breaking dawn of a season opener. And there is nothing more deflating than last light of an unsuccessful season closer. I have no intention of ever experiencing a failed season again. I’ve made the decision!

Click here for my Secret Bowhunting Tip #3: Be Patient

Hunting Stories

The Learning Meadow: My Son’s First Deer

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My Son’s First Deer

Three years ago I took my son Jake to the Sawtooth Range in Northwestern Utah for his first muzzleloader deer hunt. It was a bust. There were too many people and not enough deer.

While bowhunting on Monte Cristo last year I stumbled upon a promising new area that few people know about. There’s a secret meadow there, on a steep slope surrounded by dense woods. The  first time I came across this meadow I found a nice 3-point buck feeding leisurely along. I passed up this buck in hopes that he would still be there for Jake’s fall muzzleloader hunt.

In September of 2011 I took Jake to that little meadow, but lo, there was no 3-point. Instead, there was a giant, heavy racked 4-point bedded on the opposite side of the meadow’s edge. At the same instant we spotted him, he spotted us and stood up, offering a perfect broadside shot at only 75 yards.

Well, Jake had only practiced shooting square targets, and as much as he struggled to get this mighty beast in his sights, he just couldn’t do it. Frantically, I whispered, “SHOOT, SHOOT, SHOOT, SHOOT…” But didn’t. Instead, the buck turned and disappeared into the trees.

At that point I almost blew my lid. “Why, WHY didn’t you shoot?!” I implored. Jake replied, “I couldn’t see it in my sights good enough.” I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but what could I do? I was a frazzled mess as we trudged back down the hill towards camp. The next day was a bust and we went home empty-handed.

The following year, in spring of 2012, I went to Sportsman’s Warehouse and bought Jake a life-size, cardboard deer target. Never again would we shoot at a square paper target. A square target looks nothing like a deer or anything else you might find in the wild. So, he practiced on that deer-shaped target during the summer as we made plans to return to Monte Cristo and our secret little feeding meadow in fall.

On the second evening of the hunt, we climbed up the mountain and sat in the trees at the edge of the meadow. Just as the evening light was fading, we heard a rustling in the brush. Sure enough, a respectable 3×4 buck with tall antlers slowly materialized at 75 yards away. It wasn’t the same great buck as last year, but it was just fine for us.

Jake got into shooting position, but the cover was too thick for a shot. Fortunately, the buck continued feeding along right towards us. At fifty yards the buck suddenly jerked his head up as it recognized us as humans. Jake was ready and shot. As the smoke cleared we could see the deer prancing down the hill unscathed.

We walked over to where the buck was standing and there was no blood. Jake missed, plain and simple. This time I wasn’t upset and just asked him what went wrong. After thinking about it for a minute, he figured he must have dropped the gun at the shot, causing the bullet to travel beneath the buck. In other words, he didn’t follow through. At that moment, the feeding meadow would forever be called, “The Learning Meadow,” as Jake was learning valuable lessons there with each trip.

The next day, there were no bucks anywhere near the Learning Meadow. Another lesson: You can’t shoot at a deer one day and expect him to return the next.

On Monday, we sat in a promising new area with lots of deer sign. But Monte is a tough place to hunt and we saw not deer. Shooting light was fading fast when we decided pack it up and move uphill towards the Learning Meadow. Maybe we’d catch a last minute buck in the open. As we approached the top of the draw opposite the Learning Meadow, a deer suddenly jumped out of the trees in front of us and bounded across the open sagebrush hillside.

Right away, I could tell it was a buck; a small buck, but a legal buck nonetheless. I asked Jake if he wanted to shoot it, and he said yes. Unfortunately, the buck was bounding directly away from us and offered no shot. Jake dropped to one knee while I set up the shooting sticks in case it stopped. Near the top of the ridge, 120 yards away, the buck paused and turned broadside to look back at us. Jake was ready. Through a cloud of white smoke we watched the buck drop straight down like a sack of potatoes. Neither of us could believe it!

Jake’s eyes were wide with excitement as he stood over his beautiful trophy. I congratulated him and told him I was proud. The buck fell only a hundred yards from the Learning Meadow. Later that night, we dragged that little buck right through the Learning Meadow on our way back to camp. We took a break there. The meadow was dark and mysterious, but the lessons Jake learned were still there, burning bright as day.

Zen Hunting

Part 4: The Good Fight

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What is “The Good Fight?”

“Keep up the good fight.”

How many times have you heard that? “Keep up the good fight!” What the heck does it mean?

In my last post, I wrote about adversity and how each year, right before the bowhunt, the symbolic ‘steely claws’ tighten their grip on me and makes life downright miserable. As this disrupts my focus on the hunt—the one thing I fight for all year long—then I have no choice but to fight back. So today, I’m addressing the good fight.

My research tells me that “the good fight” is a reference to the biblical figure, Paul, who said, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7). As a modern axiom, the good fight refers to anyone who fights for what he believes.

For me, the good fight is the fight against evil and injustice. It’s the fight against selfishness and those who take advantage of others. It’s the fight against a government that intrudes upon our God-given freedoms. I’ll fight against anyone who tries to steal or destroy my freedom, property, or peace of mind. Sometimes I simply fight weeds in my garden or insects in my house. I fight daily for my tiny little space on this planet.

Now, let’s get back to the Christian reference. In Christianity there’s a whole lot of gospel about forgiveness and turning the other cheek. That’s nice and all, but it doesn’t apply here. After all, Paul was a fighter. He fought the good fight (whatever that was), and ever since, Christians have been fighting against something, whether it was persecution, evil, or their right of religious expression.

Occasionally throughout history, Christians even went looking for a fight, as was the case with the Crusades and the Thirty Years’ War. The point is that good people have always fought and will continue fighting for what they believe in. That’s the good fight!

Years ago I was on a bowhunt and just minding my own business. When I returned to my truck one night, I found that someone had cut up my back tires with a knife. Long story short, I was lucky to get off the mountain. But for a long time I was filled with pure hatred and ready to fight. But with no known assailant or motive, I couldn’t fight; nor could I forgive. Thus, the fight stuck with me for a long time.

As with any marriage, my wife and I occasionally have a good ol’ fashioned brawl. We’re both somewhat bull-headed and prone to skirmishes. But later, after we’ve made up, she tells me how she hates fighting. And in a jovial way, I tell her that I love fighting! Fighting is how you address and resolve problems in a relationship. Like it or not, fighting is progress. After a good fight we usually feel much better. It’s just a matter of perspective, I guess.

In the recent past I had two conversations about the good fight with two different people with whom I’m close to. They are both good people, but each had an exact opposite opinion. The first person said something along the lines of, “You shouldn’t fight! It’s a waste of energy. Instead, lie low and stay out off the radar. That’s what you need to do to protect yourself and your family.”

At first this made sense, but after further contemplation I realized I’d never heard anything more selfish and ignorant. His argument accepts that there will always be evil and we shouldn’t do anything to stop it. What a pile of crap! In his defense, he was trying to convince me not to be a martyr; not to waste my energy fighting against “the system,” a battle which I could never win. But I still disagree. Fighting the system is how America was founded in the first place.

The second person I talked to is a fighter. He believes you should always fight against evil wherever it’s found. He actively fights against liberalism, ignorance, government intrusion, corruption, and whatever evil dares rear its head. He’s a family man, a devout father, and a Christian. He’s humble and kind and one of the few great people I know personally.

I say fight the good fight! Fight evil where you can. Avenge the evil done unto the innocent. Hunt the hunters. Any person or entity that exacts purposeful harm upon another person should be fought. Fighting is a righteous cause.

By absorbing all the stress from unchecked aggression, you invite despair, depression, and madness into your life. When I was a kid, my dad said, “If anyone bully’s you at school, I want you to punch them square in the nose as hard as you can. Don’t worry about getting in trouble; I’ll back you up.” Now, my dad was a very peaceful man, but he knew that by allowing myself to be bullied would set my life up for failure. Cowardice is never the answer.

Kids these days are rarely encouraged to fight back. When my son was very young, I told him what my dad told me: to fight back against any bully who would harm him. Much to my chagrin, he refused adamantly, pleading that “it was against the rules.” This pacifist attitude is very unhealthy in the long run, and completely unnatural.

Without the fight, some kids absorb so much mental torture that one day they crack and bring a gun to school and kill a bunch of innocent people. And every time this happens, society divides the blame into three categories: 1) blame the gun, 2) blame the bully, and 3) blame mental illness. But they’re wrong. Society is to blame for taking the fight out of kids. Fighting is natural. It’s nature’s way of establishing balance.

In conclusion, life can turn on you in a second. There is too much evil and too many controlling entities always collaborating against you and your freedom. Happiness is fleeting also, and no one is immune to calamity. By ignoring the good fight—by allowing evil to thrive everywhere—you indirectly hurt the innocent.

It reminds me of a quote by Edmund Burke, who said: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” Evil thrives in a pacified society that teaches kids never to fight. Fighting for what you believe is healthy and natural. If you never fight, you’ll eventually lose your freedom and your mind.

Keep up the good fight!

Click below to read the three previous articles:

Part 1:  Overcoming Adversity

Part 2: The Steely Claws

Part 3: Constants, Controls, and Variables

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Part 3: Constants, Controls, and Variables

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Controls, Constants, and Variables in Life

So, this is a good year; my worst was 2008. I won’t get into the specifics, but instead let’s look at the lessons I learned that year. The following are the three mechanisms that control our lives:

    1. Constants: Things you cannot change: e.g. genetics, age, physiology, birth, death, general appearance, I.Q., gender, etc.
    2. Controls: Circumstances or occurrences that are out of our control: e.g. freak accidents, illnesses, other people, the economy, etc.
    3. Variables: Things that you have control of: e.g. attitude, lifestyle, relationships, career, extracurricular activities, etc.

These three mechanisms dictate the ebb and flow of our lives. They affect one’s mind-set, attitude, success, and ultimately our fate. We can control some things, and are controlled by others.

What I want to focus on today is the greatest enemy of peace, and that is Controls. Controls come from the great unknown. It is the source of our greatest fears because your life can change in seconds and you never see it coming. It is the finger of God. It is fate.

Some argue that one’s attitude will eliminate fear and other negative effects of controls; that our happiness is strictly determined by our reaction to stressful events. This is the case when, say, your car breaks down or you catch a cold. But if your son gets flattened by a garbage truck or your house burns down, well, positive thinking will only take you so far. You are no longer in control; you are being controlled. Too much control can cause a breakdown.

So what can you do about it?

Nothing. You don’t have to like it; flee from it if you can. We are justified in fearing Controls. You can never control the Controller. But when crap happens, fight it where you can, embrace it if you can’t. Turn tragedy into action, not reaction, and know that given enough time you can get through anything, and maybe come out stronger for it.

You will always have controls. This is how we learn and grow; this is the purpose of life. There is no pleasure without pain. The knife is honed by friction.

Click here for Part 4: The Good Fight

Zen Hunting

Part 2: The Steely Claws

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Overcoming Adversity: The Steely Claws of Responsibility

In my book, Zen Hunting, I address two important life concepts which are related. The first is what I talked about in my last blog (Adverse Conditions), and the second is “the steely claws of responsibility.”

The steely claws of responsibility represent the controlling aspects of daily life which causes stress and affects our mood in adverse ways. These symbolic ‘claws’ grasp hold of us when we least expect it and keep us from reaching our goals or finding happiness. Examples might be a car crash, a serious illness, family emergencies, financial struggles, etc.

How do the steely claws relate to bowhunting? Allow me to get personal:

This year was going along quite well until just recently. I was about to enter into next month’s bowhunt with a stress-free mind and a positive attitude. But in just the few weeks I have endured surprise attacks from every direction: financial woes, family problems, work problems, and car problems. As the stress and negativity mounted, I was suddenly hit with déjà vu. This sort of thing seems to happen every year around the same time, as far back as 1997 when my now ex-wife ran off with another man from her work. That year I went into the woods feeling like I was going to throw up on my boots. The fact is I can’t remember the last time I entered the peaceful woods without some black cloud looming over me.

I suppose this is just how life works. You see, when I go into the woods this year, I’m going to shoot an innocent and beautiful animal to death in cold blood with a razor-tipped arrow, and maybe watch it die right in front of me. Do you think that sort of thing is free? Do you think the God or Nature would allow this to happen without some sort of recompense?

Nowadays, a failed hunt results in a little disappointment, and maybe a razzing from fellow hunters. In ancient times, a failed hunt meant starvation. Do you think those ancient peoples—for tens of thousands of years—didn’t experience some level of stress prior to and during the great hunt?

Pain and suffering is how the universe maintains balance and order, and so I willingly accept pain and suffering as payment for my taking of great animals.

The long-term effects of stress can be harmful, but the short-term effects are good. Stress raises my heart rate, it focuses my mind, and it separates the trivial from the important. The regular seepage of adrenaline into my blood gives me an energy boost. It sharpens my mind on an otherwise hot and lazy day. My patience becomes thinner, but my decisions are quicker and clearer.

As dreadful as they are, ‘the steely claws of responsibility’ exist to help me succeed in hunting and life.

Click here for Part 3: Controls, Constants, and Variables