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My little 5 acres backs up to a wooded Mt. range. lots of cool critters spotted from my window or yard including bear, nice bucks, fox, racoons, flying squirrels, yotes, and all sort of birds.
Living The Good Life
Easing ever so slowly over the crest of the ridge in the smokey grey of the early morning, I sent a series of soft cuts from my box call into the heavy air and listened in quiet stillness. Suddenly, the faint crunching of leaves was detected, I felt my heartbeat accelerate and my fingers grip the string a little tighter. I made a conscious effort to point my shoulders in the direction of the sound in reparation for a shot, and with sharp clarity and focus I remained like a stone to the approaching quarry. I was enthusiastically anticipating the moment of truth and the culmination of years of effort for this lofty endeavor of the meeting of wood and steel, to feather and flesh…..
I had been looking forward to this hunting trip since the close of deer season in January, and rainy and cold conditions were not going to dampen my enthusiasm. I had traveled a day early to set up my large wall tent and wood stove for a party of nine turkey hunters that would arrive the following Friday evening and hunt Saturday morning. My brother arrived on Thursday just as I was finishing up the last lashing of the tent awning. It had taken me a little over two hours to set up the tent, but now we would be well sheltered from the unseasonable cold and breezy Mountain. We managed to finish pitching camp and get a quick scouting excursion out toward my intended hunting area with hopes to roost a bird and perhaps find a few morel mushrooms to accentuate dinner. It was early and cold, but my trusty mushroom patch came through with a small pile of lusciously fleshy fungus. The turkeys on the other hand were tight lipped and not giving away themselves as easily.
We turned in that night comfortable in the warmth of the wood stove, and our bellies full of one of the finest meals ever prepared in the woods. Fresh morels fried in butter, onion, and garlic sat piled atop archery killed venison round steaks seared in a cast iron pan atop a vintage Coleman camp stove. Man-O-Man…..does it get any better than that?
In the dark of the early morning hours, we dressed and prepared some hot coffee and bagels. The cold morning air was biting as the still bare branches rattled and brushed each other in the breeze. Soon I would find myself easing over that ridge and listening to the crunch, crunch, crunch of the approaching animal. Now, the sounds were getting closer. I strained to look for the bobbing head or fanning feet of the approaching turkey. Suddenly the movement of a form allowed my eyes and my brain to discern the shape. It was another hunter. The air let out of my lungs and I watched the shotgun toting hunter clad in the latest head to toe coordinating realtree fashion. Did he think his outfit would make him invisible to the bird’s ears as well? He moved quickly by only pausing for a few seconds here and there. I had on a grey hat, green and grey checkered wool shirt and solid green pants, yet this fellow never spotted me as he wandered through during the perfect time of the morning. Oh well. I let him go on his way and slowly crept back the way I had arrived placing some terrain between us. It was time for plan B.
Nary was a gobble heard that morning, so I skirted back to my mushroom hunting area passing more trucks and hunters pouring out of the woods on the access road. This was public land hunting and the pressure was on. I was content with the fact that I was spending some quality time with my bow and finding a fair share of early mushrooms. These would go well with the dutch oven meal I had planned for my visitors that evening.
I arrived back at camp and started the cooking preparations. I dug a nice deep hole and started a fire from the hot coals still present in my wood stove. I loaded this hole with seasoned cherry firewood and created a nice hot bed of coals in the bottom. My brother arrived later with similar results regarding the turkey despite carrying the shotgun. It would seem that if the birds are not around, it doesn’t matter what you carry on the hunt. I prefer my lightweight bamboo and glass masterpiece.
I had pre-chopped onion, garlic, carrots, and had a good supply of fresh butter from our local creamery to marry with the freshly chopped mushrooms. Two bone-in shoulder blade roasts were thawing in my cooler and they soon joined this concoction in a nice hot dutch oven for a quick sear on my trusty coleman. I browned the roasts finally adding a cup of water along with some apple slices and carefully placing yellow potatoes in every spare space of the pan. By this time, I had about 10 inches of hot coals in my pit. Shoveling out half of the coals I lowered in the hot dutch and covered them with the remaining colas and dirt. Now, dinner was prepared. Not one to relax too much in camp, it was time to stump shoot and scout as our guests filtered in and established their tentage. I had a chuckle at the looks from my hungry brother’s teenage son’s as I proceeded to tell him he was standing on dinner.
By 8pm everyone had arrived and were ready to eat. Digging up the dutch was one of the highlights of the trip to our guests, especially when they tasted the fall off the bone tender venison that lay inside. I will definitely be cooking this way again. What a great way to prepare a meal and go off to hunt or fish as it cooks.
Well, the hunting party did not fare any better than I did that first morning, seeing more hunters than game. I took to the local put and take trout stream after our guests departed Saturday afternoon, as I was staying until Sunday to tear down. I managed to wrangle up nine fresh rainbow trout and several more morels. That evening the cold rain started again, and my few remaining buds enjoyed fried trout cooked in the iron and butter before retreating to the warmth of canvas luxury.
While the birds did not cooperate on this trip, nature sure provided me with success and lots of memories. You just can’t get adventure and experiences like this from sitting in front of a TV or by living in a sterile city world….YOU have to get out, get real, and get back to the old ways… and do it. Live it. This is the good life.
Give that back quiver and those techniques a good year before you abandon it. Once you have become proficient that quiver is unparalleled.
😀
