Category Archives: random thoughts

hunting, random thoughts

Fixin’ and Tinkerin’

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So here we are deep into the dog-days of summer around my parts and since nobody seems keen on letting me onto their property with some cottontail distress calls and a .243WIN, there’s nothing for me to hunt.  I’ve never met a community that so loves groundhogs and coyotes that they look past any damage those populations are doing.  Oh well.

So what do I do in the meantime to stave off the stir-craziness?  Well, I do what every other dyed-in-the-wool hunter does when the hunting stops.  I toy around with my gear, I tinker with things I ought not to tinker with, and I rig together solutions for problems that never really existed.
Examples?  Sure!
I was fortunate enough last fall to have bluebird weather for pretty much all of my waterfowl hunting.  Didn’t get rained on once; and only got a bit damp and dewy one humid morning in late September.  Despite that I am fanatically putting the WD-40 to all the dry, un-rusted hinges of my layout blind that prior to me slopping them with gunk were in near-mint condition.  I mean downright pristine; now they are kind of shiny and slippery…but I’m good in case I do get some wet weather when I’m goose hunting in a couple of month’s time.  In another semi-related example of waterfowling as a mental illness, I am seriously considering weaving together some kind of homemade “stubble-wrap” (it’s like bubble wrap, but more painstakingly manufactured and infinitely less addictive to play with) to put on my layout blind.  I endured some mild teasing last goose season for my apparent ineptitude when it came to grassing up my blind, so in an effort to protect my ego, I’m thinking of creating some kind of matrix with lawn clippings, decorative corn stalks from the local craft shop, polymer glue, and chicken-wire.  I’m not sure if this would decrease or increase the teasing, but if it garners me another 45 minutes of sleep, I’m all for it.
I also just can’t keep my hands of my firearms right now, and this is something I’ve come to be quite comfortable with over time.  It seems that every July and August finds me almost robotically cleaning, oiling and then re-cleaning and re-oiling all of my weapons…even ones I haven’t used since their last cleaning and oiling.  To the untrained eye this may seem like classic obsessive-compulsive behaviour.  So what, like you’re so well-adjusted?
Game calls have a special place in my heart, as anyone who frequents this forum is well aware of.  The summer months become a symphony of wilderness sounds in my house, as I tune up goose and duck calls for the workout they will be receiving from early September right through to January.  This year I’ve heard a rumour that there will be a summer turkey calling contest as well for me to attend, so whereas in the past the yelping, cutting, clucking, and purring normally stops it has this year remained a fixture of the noise that permeates my house.  I am likewise preparing to re-attend and re-embarrass myself at the Ducks Unlimited Goose Calling Contest in Toronto this August, so I often find myself seamlessly swapping out my turkey diaphragm calls for my Tim Grounds Super Mag: if you haven’t heard such music, I assure you that you are missing out.  Throw in the tantrums of a bossy three year old and the wailings of a ten week old baby and you have the makings of a cacophonic maelstrom of wilderness and human language.  When the calling ceases, I am feverishly working, almost in mad scientist fashion, to tweak and tune my instruments in an effort to smooth out any sour notes…so yes, I’m aware that most of those are due to operator error, and no I don’t care.  I’m too stubborn to learn new methods so I’ll just reverse-engineer the calls to suit my style.  Yes, I know that voids the warranty.
Of special focus this year is physical fitness.  Before anyone that has actually met me starts giggling, know this is based solely on my recent broken leg.  I have not turned over some radical new leaf, and I will continue to consume fried meats, potato chips and dip, bacon and eggs, and the occasional cold beer.  Maybe some fruit and vegetables will fall in there by accident, who knows.  I have, however, found that the long term sloth that I became accustomed to during my recovery has left me woefully weak in a cardiovascular sense.  Since we don’t normally drive into the places we hunt (no one in our group owns a waterfowl trailer, and I don’t ATV much in deer season) I am making an effort to get jogging for the next 90 days or so.  When I’m hunting, I like to save my breath for making snide remarks and using a goose call; I’d rather not be winded and gasping just from bringing in a gun and some dekes.  Plus, it is nice (and cost-effective!) to fit into all the gear I wore last year.
All this preparation however, comes at a price.  We are preparing our house for sale, and being out in the garage clanging away at gear or blaring on various and sundry game calls does make me less available for things like de-cluttering, home staging, picking paint colours, and providing my thoughts on carpet patterns.
Don’t worry friend, I’m managing even without those simple pleasures.  I sense that these chores that my wife so graciously takes on while I do my important hunting prep are somehow mysteriously linked to much of my gear disappearing into Rubbermaid boxes that are sealed with intricate and completely impenetrable webs of duct tape.  Luckily I have a variety of secret stashes where I can squirrel away all I need to ensure my continued efforts are not thwarted.

All in all, the coping process as I count down to the opening day of goose season (which is the first sure sign fall is coming as far as I’m concerned) is going pretty well.  I’d be happier if the regs would just come out so I can go buy a license and really put preparations into high gear, but that usually isn’t for a few weeks yet.  For now, it is just time to enjoy the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.  Enjoy your soda, pretzels, and beer.

goose calling, goose hunting, random thoughts

Counting Down…to Lunacy!

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Here I sit just a few short days (thirteen to be precise) away from the start of goose season in my neck of the woods; for some of you in my province, the fun begins again on September 1st, and you have no idea how I envy you.

This is usually the weekend when my goose hunting putterings reach a fever pitch.  This year is likely to be no exception.  I’ll clean my shotgun, put in the correct choke, lay out or pack almost all of my gear, and then obsessively go through it every day until it is time to get out there.  If you’re like me (and there is a reasonable chance that in some ways you might be) this meandering and pointless busy work serves to soothe twitching nerves that have been stretched thin by the prospect of goose hunting.  Or maybe you are normal, and this isn’t you at all.

Fair enough.

For me though, this year brings new anticipation.  On Sunday, my layout blind is being delivered.  Oh glorious day.  Yep, I caved in and bought one.  Now I get to do what is really the most thrilling although in truth, penultimate, act: assembly.  I think I’ll do this in my basement, so that it is out of sight of my loving wife and away from the tender ears of my son, since I will invariably get frustrated, lose something, or end up being a general sweary and unpleasant character until it is completely put together.

But then…oh then.  I’ll of course shout like a five year old for everyone to come down and look at me as I lay there in it.  Maybe I’ll do a jack-in-the-box (or Shawn-in-the-blind, if you will) trick and try to surprise my son until he wets himself, although that is a pretty common occurrence, so it’s not really much of an accomplishment, but still.  I’ll then have my wife takes some pictures, I’ll probably at least put on hunting coat while I lay there in the blind (for research purposes only you see) and I most certainly will hide in it, close the doors, and practice my goose calling.  Hell, I may even try sleeping in it…just…ya know…for research again.

At some point I’ll break it down and try to stuff it into my comically undersized commuter car, just to make sure it transports well.  If it doesn’t fit, then bungee cords and old blankets will be packed in the same clown-car so as to allow for the new toy to join me on all future hunting trips; I’m sure my co-workers in the Toronto-area will have never seen anything quite like it.

Oh, yeah.  Somewhere in there on Sunday I’ll need to run the BBQ for my son’s 2nd birthday party.  Maybe I’ll assemble the blind first and put it in the backyard so the other toddlers can play with it.  It will be just like an amusement park.  I’ll put some decoys around, blow my duck and goose calls, and fun will be had by all.

I may even charge admission.

Then I’ll have a couple of burgers, some cake and ice cream, giggle like a pre-teen, tell some jokes, and generally enjoy my son’s big day.

Then hours later, after everyone has left and while my house lay in the tattered aftermath of a toddler’s birthday party, I may return to the basement, grab a beer, put on some huntin’ songs and go through my goose hunting checklist once more.  All while laying in my new blind.

This season better open soon.  I’m in very real danger of losing my mind (or my wife, but I could probably always find another one of those).

Seriously, though, all the anticipation and build-up is just one facet of what makes it great to be a hunter.  I hope everyone is savouring this next couple of weeks as much as I am.  And by the way, to my dearest spouse, you’re a great sport…please don’t leave me.  I’ll be all better in two weeks time and then things will be back to normal.  Promise.

hunting, lists upon lists, random thoughts

Funny Things You Hear Sometimes

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My thanks to those of you who have emailed me to wonder if I’m doing okay.  Yes I am, but the drop in blog productivity is with good cause.  A couple of good causes actually.
First and foremost, it is July.  There’s not much to hunt in July (other than hunting for a cool place in the shade…not surprisingly, I am not a warm-weather creature).  Since it is the high summer, there just aren’t the stories that I had in the run-up to, and duration of, the spring turkey season.  Secondly, and the inspiration for this post, is that I’ve started a new job in the bustling metropolis of Toronto.  Some of the time I had previously spent writing is now spent driving home, but please do look forward to increased output from me as I slowly descend into the madness associated with chasing ducks and geese.
Now onto today’s ramblings.  As mentioned, I’m now in a new office…an experience not altogether different from one’s first few days of school.  There are new faces, names, and social cliques to navigate.  There are meetings and training sessions to attend.  And there is my personal ‘brand’ to establish.  Of course my brand is good-natured consultant who happens to love hunting and the outdoors.
This love of the outdoors did not take long to shine through (maybe the framed photo of my wife and I on her only hunting trip piqued the curiosity of my new coworkers, who knows?) and immediately I was attacked with questions from a number of people who, through no fault of their own, have never experienced the outdoors outside of a televised beer commercial.
Here’s a list (in no particular order) of the most ridiculous, charming, and downright wacky questions and statements I’ve heard since my arrival in the urban business world.  My responses (or what I had hoped they could have been) are italicized.
It’s illegal to shoot Canada Geese isn’t it?  I mean they’re on the $5 bill!
Nope, completely legal and downright delicious.  In fact bag limits are liberal so in a way it is encouraged.  Polar bears and loons though…strictly off-limits.  Thus your monetary-based system of valuing animal life is somewhat accurate.
That mean you own weapons right?
Yes, but only because I’ve grown too old to continue to chase down and tackle things.
Can you talk to animals?
Yes, but they rarely listen.
Can I go hunting with you?
You can come and watch if you want, but you’ll mostly just see me sitting still and being quiet.  You can do that in the office if you’re so inclined, and if you stay inside there is less likelihood of you being bitten by a tick…so that’s win.
What did that duck/goose/deer/turkey/rabbit ever do to you that you can just kill it?
Nothing.  That’s why I’m not trying to kill it out of spite.  It is just a challenging thing to do, which happens to have very tasty results if I’m successful…which is not very often.
When you eat an animal, do you gain its strength?
No, but if I don’t brush my teeth afterwards I do get breath that would terrify a grizzly bear.
Does this mean I shouldn’t make you mad?
I think that you are asking if you enrage me will I hunt you like a wild animal?.  Really, you shouldn’t make me mad but only because that would just be a mean thing for you to do to me; that I go hunting shouldn’t enter into it.  If you do make me mad, rest assured, I enjoy hunting and the outdoors far too much to jeopardize that privilege by doing something thoughtless and violent.  I likely will go hunting, but in a nice calm forest far away from such silly questions and where whatever you did to make me angry will be washed away by the relaxing sounds of the wilderness surrounding me.
It is too bad that stereotyping of this sort still goes on, but it does and I’m sure this is just the start of some of the hilariously absurd things that people are going to say to me.  I’ve already gotten some funny looks when I told my coworkers that I usually reserve a week or more of vacation for the dead of November.  Maybe they think I’m a skier.  This list will probably grow, and this is nice outlet for it, since I usually have to just politely answer in a neighbourly sort of way that won’t make my interrogator feel ridiculous.  After all, if they took the time to ask, the least I can do is give them an answer.
Well, actually, the least I could do would be to walk away silently shaking my head…but that would really make it hard for me to make friends in the office.
hunting, random thoughts

Mellowing Like Whiskey…with Age

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In my younger, salad days I think I could have been (in fact I often was) described as ‘reactionary’ or ‘combative’.  Maybe even ‘passionate’ or ‘reckless’ or ‘wild’.  And in some ways I guess that I still have my moments in that idiom.  But a minor miracle of metamorphosis (alliteration, anyone?) is happening.
I’m settling down…or more accurately, I’m changing and I’m refocusing.
There was a time when I was cynical, angry, defensive, self-righteous, and downright ornery when it came to talking about hunting.  That others disapproved of hunting, or threatened the long term viability of the tradition politically or socially, or eroded the high ethical standards that we should all aspire to as hunters, or even did things in a different way than I did them made me upset and all ranty.  For some reason I took the differences of opinion that others had as a personal slight, or a judgment of my personal worth.  Maybe it was the pride and idealism of youth but I spent the better part of my teen years and basically all of my twenties living as a judgmental, loudmouthed a-hole.  It was a habit that became and consumed my identity.  Better psychological analysts than I could probably tell you why I was that way, but I attribute it basically to some futile attempt to define myself as an individual within a set of traditions, actions, beliefs, and philosophies…or something like that.
Then something started happening.  Those feelings began to go away.  It was a three step process really.
I don’t think it is a coincidence that this first step occurred right around the time my son was born.  It is hard to have time to be a cynical jerk when a new life demands your undivided attention.  Even harder when that new life is just so dang awesome, what with their knack for seeing the world simplistically through eyes that are almost constantly happy and innocent.  Simply put, being a happy Dad makes for a happy kid.  Also being an angry victim all the time is draining…and I needed to focus my energy on other things…notably making sure my son was safe, warm, and healthy.  Sure, I still get mad at political, social, and environmental actions that are jeopardizing the future (hunting or otherwise) for my son and by extension the futures of other people’s sons and daughters, but simply complaining about it does not a problem fix.
Secondly, and perhaps this is where I saw real progress, was that I came upon an epiphany.  Being an angry, opinionated person that spouted off my own beliefs and agenda related to hunting to anyone that cared to tune in really made me no better than those who use similar tactics to attempt to disabuse the hunting community of our outdoor privileges and traditions.  Also, feeling like a martyr all the time really sucks…I realized that it just wasn’t doing anything positive for me.  It may be a positive life choice for some people, but not this cat.  I have bigger, tastier fish to fry.
And finally, I realized that positive outlets (as I hope this forum will be) can have a much more positive impact on the direction of debate.  In a recent post I made reference to hate mail, and I’ll delve much deeper into that later on in related posts, but for now I’ll just say to those of you who follow Get Out & Go Hunting and that are still vociferous and impassioned drum-beaters for the hunting community, I urge you not to stop if you don’t want to…but at the same time, please do stop telling me (as one emailing fan of this site did) that I’m a “sell-out” or that I’ve “gone soft” or worst of all that I “don’t really give a damn about the future of hunting”…because I do.  I just don’t use militant tactics or rhetoric.
It requires no justification on my part (so I won’t bother with a rambling justification) because I’m comfortable with where I am with this site, and I think that aside from being semi-entertaining and pseudo-informative, this blog has the opportunity to share my genuine love and passion for hunting (a passion and pride that is the common thread I share with millions of hunters in North America and around the world, regardless of how we choose to express it) in a positive way with stories and thoughts that represent (for me) the core of why hunting is great and why I hope to be able to pass this tradition down to my son and the next generation at large.  There’s still passion and commitment (especially when it comes to stamping out illegal or negatively representative actions), it is just that now I don’t lament and shout about it all the time.
Ten years ago I wanted to be the voice of hunters everywhere.  Thanks to the mellowing factors of experience, perspective, and yes plain old growing up, I now only desire to be one of the voices of hunting.
You have your own voices too, so don’t be afraid to use them…just don’t make the mistakes of my earlier days and spread your message in ways that might actually be detrimental to the hunting traditions we all value so much.

That’s experience talking.