There has been a lot of misinformation surrounding the selection of hunters to serve on the Department of Interior's newly-formed International Wildlife Conservation Council (IWCC). The council was established last November to be under the purview of the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service.
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Simultaneously a memory floods my brain—a memory of my first hunt and the lesson that I learned that day. Those of us who are avid hunters will always remember our first hunt and usually the lesson that comes along with the experience. My lesson wasn’t about field dressing or tracking. It was much more than that.
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First off, what is the definition of organic? In order to be considered USDA organic, the contents must be 95% free of pesticides, chemical fertilizers, dyes, genetic engineering, industrial solvents… The list can go on. Also in order for the stamp of approval, there are many rigorous tests and paperwork that needs to be filed for it to be legitimate.
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It was a chilly, April morning in 2016 when we got up and ready to go hunt. Once my brother and niece arrived, we loaded up and headed out. The sun was rising when we got to our location, so my husband started calling to try and locate the birds. We slowly made our way down to the bottoms where we though they'd be. Once we heard that first gobble, we knew they were close, so we got set up in a hurry.
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It was a warm, sunny afternoon in November of 2014. I was still new to hunting since it was my first year doing it. My husband decided to join me on this hunt. We weren't sure if we'd see anything but we wouldn't know unless we tried. After gearing up and spraying down, we headed out to the blind. Once we got out there, he hung up two scent bombs while I got set up. After he got in and settled, I got the gun up and ready just in case a buck came out.
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As I stumble across turkey tracks during my predator hunt, I am reminded that it is time to put in my spring turkey application for my preferred zone here in Michigan. While I come down emotionally from an unsuccessful deer season, I realize with anticipation that springtime is not far away.
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It was a cloudy, chilly day in December of 2017. I wanted to get out to my spot pretty early. I just had a feeling it would be a good hunt. Being 15 weeks pregnant, I needed to pace myself on getting out there as well. Got to see some early movement of several does and a little spike. After that I didn't see anything for about an hour, and by then it was getting dark. I was just about to pack up when I noticed a deer to my left. My heart began to race when I realized it was a buck with a decent wide rack and a big enough body.
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The words TAG SOUP would be what most would painfully grumble as devastation. Granted, the end goal to my Michigan deer season was to notch and secure my tag on a mature whitetail. It didn’t happen. But amidst all of the feelings that flowed through me on January 1st at the end of a long season, there was accomplishment.
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I’ve been here before, had success with Ram, Antelope, Watusi and Hogs. My one and ONLY white tail deer was on Dec 4, 2015, button buck. Now, I’m back, where I’ve had good luck, down here in Southern Ohio, 4 hours from home. Its 29 degrees outside, 52 degrees in my cabin. There’s a cozy campfire going outside and I’m hardly able to sleep. The morning would bring the best possible adventure of all, or would it?
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