Tag Archives: Hunting

Family, Hunting

The 225 Mile U Turn

I can recall almost every hunt that Echo and I have experienced over the last 5 years. There are some hunts however that stand out because something remarkable occurs. Most often it is Echo doing something so tremendous that the moment is emblazoned in my mind forever. 

On this cold December day, Echo and I took the long drive to our favorite farm in Wray, Colorado. The plan was to meet up with a good friend and his dog by mid-morning. I know the area well, and I wanted to hunt a piece of land that we had not hit too many times over the last few years. The cows had not been let into both the north and southwest corners, so the cover circling the corn field was dense enough to hold birds. The wind was blowing over 10 mph from the northeast, so we started our walk from the opposite corner. Echo and I took a circuitous route to the end of the southwest corner so we hopefully would catch a pheasant napping. Once we got 20 yards out from the combination of grass and tumbleweeds, Echo started to get birdy. While I knew that we were in business, I was feeling a bit groggy from the long drive. When the rooster busted 15 yards to my right, I struggled to square up to the speedy bird. Two shots later, Echo paused her run as she realized that I had missed. My apology was heard, and we continued our work along the edge of the corn field. Echo will point when a bird freezes, and just moments after my failure, she stopped in her tracks. When she suddenly popped up, it caused the rooster to take flight. One shot of HEVI-METAL #4 knocked the bird out of the air.

With a bird in the vest, we continued our walk north into the next corner. There is tumbleweed filled ditches that surround this part of the field. Many times, the birds will evade our pursuit by carefully navigating these channels. About halfway through the middle of the northwest corner, Echo started to move with a purpose. While no birds took flight, I believed that she was pursuing more than one of the targeted species. As we approached the four rung barbed wire fence that abutted a ditch, Echo elevated into beast mode. Fueled by the scent of our quarry, my dog exploded through the bottom rung, but she caught a buckle of her chest protector on a single barb. That contact caused the entire vest to tear off her body. Once I put the fragments of the material in my pack, we started to work both sides of the ditch heading east. Echo remained hot but were not able to get the runners to fly.

My friend Oneal finally arrived, and he and Marley took the north side of the tree line that paralleled the two ditches we had just been hunting. As we walked west, Echo became excited as the northeast wind told her that birds were still present. Once Echo stopped and turned to our right, a rooster got up from the ditch and flew across the road. My first shot was behind the bird, but my next round knocked the bird to the ground. Unfortunately, the long shot was not lethal, and the speedy cock ran through the ditch and under the first fence. Echo was in full stride as she circumvented the lowest wire. She tore across the northwest corner just a few yards behind the bird. As the pheasant cut left it went under a second and then a third barbed wire fence. Echo tackled the bird, and headed back to me with the rooster in her mouth. After grabbing the bird, I noticed that my hand was covered in blood. It only took a few seconds to realize that Echo’s ear was split in half, and blood was gushing everywhere. It took me 30 minutes to slow the bleeding, and make the decision to head home. Almost 4 hours later, we arrived at the veterinarian, and Echo was stitched up.

This was the first major injury Echo suffered in all of our days spent in the field. Unfortunately, it would not be the last. On our first hunting trip after her ear had healed, Echo tore her knee open at some point during the day. The wounds Echo suffered shook me up. I thought I was prepared for handling my dog’s in-field ordeals. I wasn’t, and I am not sure how I am going improve my veterinarian skills.

Family, Hunting

Cage Ranch

About 100 miles southeast of Denver, Colorado there is a large tract of land that symbolizes the spectacular prairie of the western United States. The property bisects route 94, and rests in an unincorporated village called Wild Horse . For over 70 years, the Cage family has raised cattle on nearly 50,000 acres of sage, yucca and switchgrass. They are responsible land owners as well as astute custodians of this ground. Fortunately, the Cages are kind and generous people who allow some of us to experience their stunning piece of American history.

The first time I visited the Cage Ranch I was awestruck at the incredible size of the property, as well as the many species of animals that call the eastern plains of Colorado their home. While I eventually adapted to the vastness, I will always be captivated by the variety of prairie critters. In the early days, I could not tell where I was without a compass. Additionally, it took me a while to learn how to unlock and relock a barbed wire fence gate. I was appreciative when Bob installed a few cheater-bar-latches around the opening to the pastures that I frequented. Navigating the roads around the ranch took time to learn. My sense of direction is poor when the streets have no names. To that point, the more ranch driving I did, the more comfortable I became transitioning from one pasture to the next. It has taken years, but I can now successfully maneuver without oversight. My attempts at branding calves each spring had the hired cowboys mocking my unrefined methods. I persevered, and I eventually learned how to execute my menial yet fun role. When fall arrived, hunting season started. We harvested our fair share of pronghorn, deer and even an occasional duck.

On January 1, 2021, the Cage Ranch will change hands, and formally end a glorious era. There are so many things that I will miss about the ranch; the long drive from the highway to headquarters. The two golden eagles that always seem to appear when I enter The George pasture. The remarkable sunrises and sunsets that light up the golden grasses.

Bob, thank you for extending yourself beyond our friendship. You gave up your time to teach me about many things ranch related. You rarely mocked me for the many mistakes I made, and you were patient when I asked you the same questions multiple times. As you stated, I will continue to use the many things I learned on the ranch for the rest of my life.

Hunting

Failure

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“We pray our sights be straight and our aim be true.  We pray for no pain to the game we pursue. We thank you, Lord for this land. We thank you for the sights from our stands. We pray for safety one and all.  We pray we may return in the fall.”

-Camille Pissaro

Failure brings on all types of undesirable emotions. For me, failure usually creates a gut-wrenching, remorseful reaction to whatever I was attempting to accomplish. Many times, these feelings negatively impact my frame of mind for the foreseeable future.

On the second day of Colorado’s deer rifle season, my plan involved putting myself in an advantageous position before sunup.  I drove down the main road leaving headquarters at a quickened pace. It was 5 am, 33 degrees and shooting light was over an hour away. Towards the end of five mile road a truck was parked about 150 yards inside the entrance to the Ranch. I cautiously pulled my pickup next to his vehicle. He was an older man dressed in camo, highlighted with the proper amount of hunter’s orange. He told me that he was waiting to contact the owner of the property.  I asked him who he was specifically looking for. When he could not come up with a name, I politely asked him to leave. As he turned his truck around, I looked up the hill to the west, and saw the outline of the buck that poacher was eyeing. I trained my binoculars on him, and I was able to discern that he was a deer that I wanted to take.

I grabbed my rifle and bipod, and made my way across the cattle guard. The buck was feeding uphill, and he did not seem aware of my presence. I put my rifle into the bipod, and got comfortable. The buck was 151 yards from my shooting position, and he decided to lay down. The sun was coming up behind me, so I felt confident that I could remain concealed until I was permitted to shoot him. About thirty minutes later, the buck stood up and took two steps to his left. With my crosshairs on his shoulder, I squeezed the trigger. The buck kicked hard, and spun around as he fell to the ground. I stood up, as I thought the animal was fatally wounded.  Suddenly, he raised up, obviously injured, but able to walk. I attempted to shoot him off hand, but I missed.  He made his way over the hill heading southwest.  I ran towards the buck, realizing that I needed to kill him before he got beyond from my effective range. The noise I made startled the wounded deer, and he unexpectedly turned and jumped the adjacent fence and then ran across the highway. Recognizing that the animal was hurt, I made the difficult decision to pursue him, even though I would no longer be in my game management unit. I know the pasture where he entered, and I scoured the land both on foot and in my truck.  This section of the Ranch abuts the neighbor’s property just one mile to the north. That landowner leases his land to an outfitter who charges a lot of money for guided hunts. The deer needed to be recovered before he became inaccessible. As I drove to the north end of the land, the injured deer jumped from his bedded position, and he made his way over the fence.  My heart sank as I drove to the fence line, and watched him limp away at fifty yards.  I quickly received permission from the ranch manager to take the deer, but I hesitated because I figured that the outfitter would be present.  Recognizing I was shaken up, I took a few deep breaths, and I tried to collect myself. I drove to an area where I had both mobile reception, as well as data access.  My objective was to contact the outfitter, and determine if he was hunting with clients.  It took me well over one hour to figure out who was leasing the property, as well as to find his mobile number. Soon after getting the outfitter on the line, he accused me of trespassing, lying, and many other unseemly acts. He threatened to call the CPW, and told me to expect a hefty fine. Recognizing that I had done nothing wrong, I called the CPW, and asked them to meet me at the Ranch. The officers listened to my story, and completed an extensive investigation of the incident. Hours later, they absolved me of any wrongdoing, and offered to help me locate the deer.  Despite looking all over the pasture for two hours, we could not find him. Discouraged, embarrassed, and angry, I packed up and headed for home.

I have replayed my initial shot multiple times over the last couple of weeks. I cannot determine what occurred on such a routine shot. My subsequent range work did not reveal the issue, as my aim proved to be spot-on. The guilt I feel for wounding the deer will never leave me.  I accept responsibility for my failure, and I hope it will never happen again.

Business, Family, Fishing, Golf, Hunting, Music

Living Life

In just about 10 months, I will turn 50 years old.  While my personal demise does not preoccupy my daily thoughts, it is hard to avoid the reality of the situation.  If I am lucky, I have 25 to 30 years left on the planet.  That being the case, I have a lot that I want to accomplish in a short period of time.  In no specific order, here are some of the things that I will do before the lights go out.  If possible, I would like to experience many of these quests with my wife and 2 sons.

  • Learn to Play a Guitar – As a lifelong metalhead, I have and continue to admire the musical abilities of Tony Iommi, Randy Rhodes, Eddie Van Halen and Darrell Abbott. On July 29th, I will take a guitar lesson from Kyle Shutt.  Kyle is a founding member of the band, The Sword.  He is a talented and accomplished artist who kindly agreed to mentor me.  I am not sure if I can learn to play the guitar, but I am going to try.
  • Own and Operate a Company – I have been an employee for almost 30 years. I appreciate the majority of my employers, and the opportunities they have provided me. That said, I want to own my own company.  It does not matter what type of company.  My years of business experience, coupled with a desire to collaborate with focused and committed people, will ensure the success of this company.  It is only a matter of time before I discover the right opportunity.
  • Hunt a Bull Elk – When I think of hunting the Western half of the United States, the first animal that I think of is an elk. I want to put my evolving predator skills to the test, and challenge myself both mentally and physically.  The good news is that I live in a Colorado where elk run wild.  Admittedly, this hunt intimidates me given my inexperience, and the intense planning & preparation involved.  It would be ideal if I could recruit a veteran big game hunter like Randy Newberg, Nate Simmons or Steven Rinella to provide me their professional insight.  If I am unable to convince a seasoned veteran to assist me, I will figure it out on my own.  Ty (12) is ready to complete his hunter safety course, and Jesse (10) is less than 2 years away.  They will make fine hunting partners sometime soon.
  • Fly Fish New Zealand – I want to catch big, native trout in a majestic environment. Videos I watch validate that those who fly fish New Zealand have opportunities to engage monster fish.  I am told that these fish don’t receive consistent pressure, and they are not shy when it comes to attacking a fly.  In addition to working on my casting proficiency, I will begin to train Ty and Jesse on fly fishing basics.  They already have the angling bug, it is now time to evolve our skills.
  • Hunt Pheasants in South Dakota – My favorite activity in life is bird hunting. If there is a mecca for upland hunters, it is the state of South Dakota.  Friends have told me that the birds are so thick, it can be difficult to pick a rooster out to shoot. Echo, my gundog, is 18 months old.  She and I enjoyed many adventures during her first year in the field.  Echo and I are ready for the 8-hour ride to rooster paradise.
  • Golf Ireland (again) – Back in 2000, some friends and I golfed the east coast of Ireland. We had the time of our lives.  The landscape is incredible, the people are kind and the courses are historic.  It is time to go back, and do it again with a true appreciation for the experience.  To do the trip with my sons and wife would make it ideal.
  • Write a Book – I need to figure out the general subject matter, then go for it. It would be great if the book was commercially successful, but that is not my motivation.  I want it to be good, and I cannot continue to procrastinate.  Tim Ferriss says to write “two crappy pages a day”.  That does not seem insurmountable.
  • Offer Help – I try to lead a selfless, generous and empathetic life. That said, when I do the occasional candid self-evaluation, I realize that I don’t do enough for others.  Of course, I try to extend myself for family and friends.  That is generally easy because I love the person that I am helping.  What I am talking about is being proactively available to strangers.  Actually, assisting people I don’t know.  I am passionate about upland hunting.  Despite my relative newness to the sport, I am 100% engaged.  There are many people that dream about walking a grassy field, alongside a bird dog, with a chance to mount a shotgun at a cackling rooster.  Many of those people might never get that opportunity. Perhaps I can be the person that will introduce them to an unforgettable moment.

As time progresses, I will hopefully minimize this list.  When inspired, I will add ambitious life objectives to it. When I accomplish a feat, I will opine on it in writing.  Completing this article commits me to the journey.  Let’s go!

Family, Hunting

The Wave; Country Style

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I was born and raised about 30 minutes north of Boston, Massachusetts. I am a native New Englander, and proud of it.  We live a fast, competitive and intense lifestyle in the Northeast.  Once one earns their driver’s license, emotions become amplified.  People treat their commute as a race. If you’re dissatisfied with the speed in the left lane, you flash your headlights at the driver in front of you.  If that car doesn’t move, you tailgate them.  If the tailgate proves to be ineffective, you bolt across multiple lanes, only to cut back to the left lane in order to get ahead of the original driver.  As you bolt by the person lollygagging in the left lane, you raise your middle finger in order to demonstrate your anger.  The gesture usually results in a continued confrontation of flipping each other off for miles down the road.

When we moved to Colorado just over 8 years ago, the pace of play slowed. When I started hunting, things really changed. As I drive east, people wave at you. It is a subtle move with the left hand, but noticeable.  At first, I was perplexed by the gesture.  Did the person misidentify me as a friend? Do I wave back even though they have the wrong guy?  It took a few trips to realize that these are people just being kind.  I am not certain where the geographical line is in the State, but when I cross it, things change.  I have adopted the motion, and now wave at every truck that passes me.  Waving at another person I don’t know makes me feel good, so I will continue doing it.

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