Eric's First Buck

When I think about, and I often do think about the intangible benefits we get from hunting. I find that at times I just can't quite put my finger on it. Other times the words flow and seem almost too easy. But when its all said and done, the one constant I see among men is their desire to pass on their love for the outdoors and the great sport of hunting to our children. I am no different, now that my children are getting to the age where I can take them with me, i would almost rather take them with me, than not. It's becoming more of a testament of our time together than the hunt, the passing on of our traditions, and establishing new ones. It is all about honoring those before us, and notching our place in their memory bank.

A friend of mine had the pleasure of notching one of these moments this past weekend, and while I didn't hunt with them, we went together. and I had the honor of celebrating with them as young man harvested his first buck.

For some, it may seem less climatic as it was to us, but this is a passing of the torch, a culmination of years of expectations, anticipations and education. Years of tagging along, shooting practice, safety lessons, scouting, hanging stands, all of the work of hunting all came full circle on Saturday October 24, 2009 at about 9:15 a.m.

The moment brought back the time my own son harvested his first buck, I was more excited than he was, he didn't understand the magnitude of his accomplishment, I did. He didn't know how fortunate he was to have that opportunity, I did. He didn't know the consequences of pulling that trigger, I did. And so too did Greg and Eric. They understood that the accomplishment was far more than Eric harvesting his first buck. It was a culmination of time, energy and dedication. It was a memory permanently carved into the minds of a father and a son. A moment for which they will remember throughout their lives. A moment that will take them back, that will linger in their hearts and transform them to that place. It is a special moment for which there are no others.

Certainly Eric will grow and harvest more deer, perhaps even some bigger bucks, but none will replace his first one. There are only one "first" and I am proud that I was there to be able to join in the celebration as Eric bagged his first whitetail buck. Congratulations Eric!

The hunt itself wasn't spectacular, nothing dramatic happened, sitting in the ground blind, a buck and doe emerged into a food plot approximately 100 yards away, lifting his lever action .44 magnum Marlin Eric took careful aim, waited for the right moment and for his dads leg to stop shaking - before he could steady himself prior to squeezing the trigger on his gun and tugging on the heart of his dad. I think in order for sons to understand the emotion we feel at these times, they must have children themselves. I don't think they can comprehend the flood of emotion that comes over us as we witness these life moments with our children.

Hunting in the rain

Saturday the weatherman called for a 20% chance of rain - he was wrong, it rained all day, so I sat in one of our "box" blinds overlooking a food plot - I wanted to hunt the oaks that are dropping - but i didn't bring my rain suit since it wasn't supposed to rain.

I got to the food plot and placed my Renzo's buck decoy in the middle of the plot. (See picture) Sat back and waited......at 9:15 I saw movement, a deer was running full bore straight to my decoy, I got my gun up and realized it was just a spike, so I enjoyed the show. He came running straight to the decoy, began to circle, and since the decoy is 2-D and not 3-D it disappears when you face it head on or tail on. - The little buck almost jumped out of his skin when the "deer" disappeared right in front of him and then reappeared again when he turned to run. I really wish I had the video camera running when this happened.

He didn't stick around for long after this and bounded into the woods, about 30 seconds later a doe being chased by a NICE buck ran across the lane leading to the food plot, I tried to call him back but he had other things on his mind. -

I got down about 10:30, made a small loop through the woods in the direction the nice buck ran during this still hunt I slipped up to within 25 yards of another spike, a 4 pt. I stood watching them as they slipped away. Moving to the feeding area, I spotted movement and a 6 pt came trotting by with his nose to the ground, he was within 20 yards, more like 15 broadside. Great show, after he left, I moved my climber to a better location, and got out of there.

I'm hoping to get back there this week for an afternoon hunt - catching them coming into the acorns late. We'll see, but that Decoy in the food plot may be a better idea as it gets closer to rut.....hummm

Perspective

I am writing this in a hospital room beside the bed my 13 year old son.

Last Sunday at a baseball tournament he was pitching some batting practice and a line drive caught him in the back fracturing his spleen. We have had some tense times over the past few days and nights. Sitting here beside him, watching and praying for him to get better. It will be a long road for him, months of healing, months of boredom, of waiting for his body to recover from this trauma.

I'll spare the details, but as I have sat here - I can't help but think, and reflect on some of our times, some of the moments we have spent together in his short life. Some of our Times Well Spent. I know there will be more, and I guess it is appropriate at times like this to reflect, to kindle, and reminisce. Not in the manner of an ending, more of in the manner of a continuation, work left undone. Moments we need to capture - memories yet to make.

He will recover, he will get better, and we will have many more times we will spend together, sunrises and sunsets, more talks around campfires, more lessons about life and memories.

One of the things we say as he gets older, "Daddy, your taking Ridge and I now, one day we will be taking you." those are the moments I cherish, the moments I embrace and hold on to. Those are the real Times Well Spent, the times with my children and family. Those above all else are the ones that I cherish more than any other.

Technology and Hunting

In today's hunting industry, (notice the language) hunting is now an industry instead of a past time, passion, right of passage, tradition, sport, - now its an industry. And in today's hunting world, we are bombarded with gimmicks, fly by night ideas, contraptions, you name it to help us become better hunters. I for one really don't understand it, I don't understand how people fall victim to it over and over again.

From carbon suits, now silver suits and clothes, to packaged deer poop, and urine, not to mention estrus secretions, (YUCK) I mean who has the job of harvesting this stuff...... and my personal favorite the "camo soap" from laundry detergent to foot powder, shampoo, wipes, everything you can imagine is now "Scent free" to help us kill game. I have to hand it to the companies, Primos, Mossy Oak, Hunters Specialities, TINKS, etc, they really know how to saturate a market.

But none of this replaces good woodsmanship. Nothing will replace effective scouting, hunting the wind, being still, etc. You can't buy woodsman ship at Wal-Mart or Cabela's, it's not available at Bass Pro Shops, it is only found in time spent in the woods. I am afraid as we try and bring in more people, young people into the sport, we are bringing in gadget junkies who know nothing about how to hunt, who can't tell the difference between a rub and a scrape, who wander through the woods never noticing a white oak from a red oak. We are building crutches for them to use when they don't have success, "I needed the new Realtree AP in green and I forgot to spray with scentlok before i left," - Fact of the matter is, woodsmanship is learned, passed down from generation to generation, and as we give it up for the next gimmick we are teaching our children the same thing. We are teaching them how to find excuses instead of learning opportunities. - We have lost the thrill of the hunt, and replaced it with harvest records.

Just two days ago, our archery season opened, and I went out at 12:30 to have an afternoon hunt, I sat in a natural ground blind i made weeks earlier in a good funnel area between bedding and feeding areas, - spotting some feeding does in the distance i began a stalk to close the distance for my longbow - it was one of the most exciting hunts I've ever had. I had the opportunity to draw on a doe twice, never loosed the arrow, but my heart was pumping, I was excited, I had placed myself directly in her path. years of failed attempts, years of poorly placed stands, not noticing wind currents, just hanging a stand where i can see the most area, a lot of time in the field translates to effective hunting. - I have a lot to learn, a lot, but after falling victim myself to some of these gimmicks that are being touted as the secret to hunting success, I have reverted to the old tried and true, the simple.

So as I recover from the addiction to the hunting industry, I warmly embrace the hunting life, the tradition, the sportsman's way, I welcome the failures and the successes no matter how small. I welcome the learning curve and could care less on how steep it is. I am certain much of it will come back. Much of it was not forgotten, just relegated to the old and not effective anymore. But it will return, scout 80% of the time and hunt 20% - learn what the woods are telling you, if you pay attention, the woods will tell you everything you need to know about your area, and you can set yourself in a perfect position. Sit still, hunt the wind; be flexible, mobile, adjust in the middle of your game if you have to - if this isn't working, do something else.

Remembering above all else that Hunting is a privilege it is about being there, it's about participating in the out of doors, respecting what it teaches you about your quarry and yourself. It is a discipline that few master, but many enjoy, lets bring the enjoyment back into our beloved sport rid ourselves from all of the gimmicks and just enjoy our Times well Spent.

Opening Day Doves

Each year on the opening say of our Dove season our state DNR hosts a youth hunt at some of their public fields. We have been fortunate enough to have been drawn for these hunts several times. This past Saturday was another opportunity for us to spend a day shooting at doves.

I took my two sons, Alex who is 13 and Ridge who is 8, this was the first time Ridge had an opportunity to shoot at doves, or anything for that matter. It was a great day, the weather was excellent and the birds were flying as well as I've seen in over 20 years of dove shooting. There was a twist this year, because for the first time, the parents were not allowed to shoot. It was bitter sweet, in years past, I shot little, giving the boys the opportunity, but this year the birds were flying so well, I found myself salivating and yearning for the opportunity.

The day started with us selecting a stand beside a large tree, very soon a few doves were headed our way, Alex took his youth model .410 single barrel that he has long outgrown and at the report of his first shot, the dove folded, Ridge was off like a great retriever and found the bird. I had the boys alternating shooting, three shots each and switch.

Ridge did excellent, shouldering the .410 and shooting without hesitation, he hit a few but nothing fatal. He shot about 35 times, and Alex shot around 60 times, Alex ended up with eight birds alternating between the .410 and my .20 gauge. Ironically he got more birds with the .410 than with the 20.

This was one of those opportunities that as a Dad I long for, a day spent with my sons afield, enjoying the sport, spending a day talking about things, and watching them in their excitement and success.

A special thanks to the South Carolina DNR for hosting us and setting these fields up for us, it was definitely a great shoot. We will be back next year for sure.

Why do I hunt?

One of my children's friends was over the other day, she is a real animal lover and they were playing a game of "save the animals". I thought it was a good game until my son, who up until that point loved hunting with me, comes to me and says, "Daddy, when I go hunting with you, I don't want to kill anything, I just want to watch the animals." I said that was fine, but what changed his mind. He responded, "I just don't want to kill anything, its wrong to kill animals."

Looking around the den at my mounts, I asked him some questions and took the opportunity to explain to him that as a hunter, we love the animals also, we are in fact the the group of conservationist that pumps the most money into wildlife management, we spend more volunteer hours trying to save species, and enhancing habitat than any other group. I explained that we only hunt animals whose populations can withstand the harvest and that without our harvest, many of these animals would over populate and lead to disease and starvation.

I could tell it was going over his eight year old head and slowed down, got off my soap box and explained to him, that hunting is not about the "kill". while that is part of it, its about being in nature, watching undisturbed wildlife, listening to the sounds, embracing the smells, watching sunrises and sunsets. I explained that the killing is only one small part, and that we enjoy the meat, (I reminded him of his mothers world famous cubed steak and gravy) and how much he enjoys it.

But this conversation got me to thinking again, as I believe all sportsmen and women do, on why we hunt. I believe we hunt because we must. Its ingrained into our DNA, its part of who we are and something that makes us whole to a significant degree. The pursuit, the challenge of chasing, shooting, and harvesting. The adventure of being there. While some hunt to fill trophy rooms, most of us hunt for the sport of it, for the challenge, for the internal significance it brings to our lives. To be whole.

I feel remorse for those whose DNA is lacking this thirst for the out of doors, for the camaraderie, those who lack the desire to quality time in nature, enjoying the creation God provided us. I feel remorse for those whose feeling of success in hunting is measured by well preserved trophies on their walls, and miss the simple joy of just being there.

A successful hunt is not measured by spent cartridges, or slung arrows, it is not measured by antlers, horns or beards, it is measured by all of our times that we spend out doors with friends, family and in harmony with ourselves, enjoying another day, another opportunity. It is enjoyed around campfires, in deer-stands, on mountain tops, tundra, field edges, northern forest, on the plains and in marshes, where we can escape everything else in our lives and just be at one with nature and ourselves.

Why do I hunt, I hunt because I must, because at the core of who I am, I am a hunter.

Outdoorsman's Prayer

It is common in Christian circles to use Psalm 150 for a prayer of praise. It is one of my favorite Psalms and very appropriate in offering praise to our Lord. - As an sportsman and a writer I want to take some artistic license to offer my own prayer of praise for all God has given us sportsman and women.

Praise God

Praise Him from the duck blind

Praise Him from the slews and swamps.

Praise God from the snow covered mountains

Praise Him from the woodlots and the plains

Praise God from the groud-blind

Praise Him from the tree stand

Praise God from the lakes

Praise Him from the rivers and ponds

Praise Him from the dove field and pheasant drives

Praise God from the canoe

Praise Him from the bass boat and kayak

Praise God from the deep ocean

Praise Him from the mountain stream and small creek.

Praise God for the sunrise

Praise Him for the sunsets

Praise God for the opportunity to hunt

Praise Him for the opportunity to fish

to paddle, wade, camp, hike, stalk, and cast.

Praise Him for the the sharing of lives,

Praise Him for the experience of witnessing his creation

Praise God

My Pocket Knife

I found myself in a dilemma that I had not expected recently, I guess most dilemmas aren’t expected for that matter. Nevertheless, I am still baffled by its infiltration into my life. It started rather simply; I did as I always do every morning, just as my dad did. Getting dressed, I began to fill the pockets of my britches with the things of importance; Wallet in left back pocket, keys in left front, money clip with both dollar bills in right front, and a can of smokeless tobacco in the right rear, it was a sacred moment that I followed with devotion each day in the same order. But this day was different than the rest, and that is what confounds me.

Every day since I can remember, which as I get older is a shorter span than I like to admit, but at least for the past thirty-five years, my left front pocket has contained a folding three blade knife. Somehow, however, on this day it was missing; frantically I went through the britches from yesterday, tearing the pockets wrong side out, to no avail. I searched for hours, seeking a lost friend, grieving, morning its absence. Wearing britches without a pocket knife is a feeling I don’t ever want to experience. I felt naked with out my pocket knife. Yet, it was not to be, it was gone.

To comfort my left front pocket, I opened the top drawer of my dresser, and in the back where all my other knives have been retired, I resurrected one to serve again, like a reserve soldier being called up for active duty in a time of national emergency. Taking the knife from the back of the drawer I looked it over, noticing dust balls wedged between the blades I opened each one – giving a strong blow of air to free its mechanism from the intruding dust, small fragments floating to the carpeted floor where they would be hidden from my wife. Each blade inspected for function and sharpness, sliding my thumb across the blade feeling the tell tale sign of a finely honed edge. It needed polishing, but it would work. Like the dozen or so knives before it was an Old Timer 34, the best pocket knife ever made. Brass ends, three blades, and a brown faux stag handle. Three different blades for three different functions, one kept razor sharp, the middle blade is the most utility blade, so its sharp, but not too sharp, and then the smaller blade, the “give ‘em hell” blade. Used for cutting fence wire, and scraping copper pipe, and whatever else an edge is needed for that doesn’t include cutting. It’s the perfect knife.

When it slid into my pocket with the distinct jingle as it struck my keys, I felt dressed and ready for the day. But my heart was still empty, this soldier would serve its purpose, but I felt sad bringing it out of retirement for emergency duty, I still had to find my new nine year old knife; whose blades were showing the sign of wear, and constant sharpening. I needed that knife, like I need a good night kiss from my wife before I can sleep.

Several days later, I offered a ransom for the knife. Telling the children that who ever finds it will receive a dollar. Sure I could buy another, but that was sacrilege, it was my knife and I wouldn’t leave one of my children out lost without a valiant search, and so to my knife.

How it happened I am still not sure, but just this morning, I was getting dressed, following the same routine as always, when I saw it there, sitting on my dresser - a lost friend returned. I still don’t know how it got there, but there it was none the less and I am better for it. I immediately went running through the house proclaiming its return from hinterlands wherever knives disappear to and miraculously return from; withdrawing my ransom as I paid myself one of my two dollars for its return. Now my pants seem to fit better, there is a spring in my step, and I feel more confident to take on the world.

After I found my knife, I then took the old soldier who had born the burden for its lost brother and returned it to its resting place in the back of the top drawer of my dresser. The same place this one too will retire, with the dozen or so others who have served their duty without complaint and without failure. I am now on a mission to replace this knife, so that if it decides to go missing again, I will have a new knife ready to take its place. For thirty five years, I have carried an Old Timer knive; alas they are not to be found anymore, so I bought a Buck knife. A life long carrier of Old Timer buying a Buck is akin to a Baptist joining a Catholic church, its still a knife just like the Catholics are Christian, it just ain’t quite the same.

Getting Ready

A few of us spent yesterday getting ready for deer season. This is some of the best part of deer hunting in my opinion. Scouting, hanging stands in new locations, unraveling the puzzle - finding the sign, selecting a stand location, and moving in. Add to this the friendships and you have the makings of a great season. Some of the best parts of deer season is well before the season begins.

I was disappointed that my cameras didn't get more pictures in stand locations, so I moved them and am hopeful for better success in the days to come.

We moved a few stands and hung new ones, while this area is not the type i typically like to hunt, it does hold deer in good numbers, the situation however is different than I am used to, no large hardwood areas (That others haven't taken) no direct feeding areas, a lot of browse - large clear-cuts that are 7-10 years old, and planted pines, the creeks are small and border the property and are covered in stands, I have to fine areas that are not hunted and receives little pressure, this is proving difficult since we have so many stands already out there. Since I tend to hunt differently than others, using their stands (Club stands) will be different. But that is what it is. I only hope I will be able to be able to learn from this year and be more successful than the last time I was in this club.

Back from the Outer Banks

We are back from our vacation to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. If you've never been there, go. That is if you are like me and prefer the unspoiled beaches, vacant of hotels, conduminums, and high rises. It is a beautiful place.

I was disappointed in the fishing, but all of the locals told me it was perhaps the worst time of year for the fishing in my area. So I hope to schedule the next trip to coincide with some better fishing.

I will be back.

Now it is time to start getting ready for Deer season - and trying to mix in some hog hunts along the way.

Enjoying the Outer Banks

We are currently on vacation in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Our house that we rented is about half way between Nags Head and Hatteras. These beaches are the prettiest I've ever visited. They are as natural as any beach I know of. Large dunes, covered with sea oats and cedars, miles and miles of unspoiled beaches and maritime forests. It has been a good trip.

I came hoping that the fishing would be as good as I've always read about. Unfortunately it has proven to be quite a challenge. So far, I've caught 5 small croakers, 1 flounder, and two dog fish. That's it. None of the big reds, or small ones for that matter. No trout, no Spanish mackerel. Nothing but 8" croakers.

I'll try again tomorrow......Before coming I built a beach cart to haul all my gear to the beach. It has worked well with a few adjustments needed. First I need wider tires, mine are too narrow and sink in the thick soft sand. Second, we need better access to the beach, while a lot of beaches here allow for driving directly onto the beach, you definitely need four wheel drive to get there. Today we went towards Avon to another beach, It took me 20 minutes to haul all our stuff out there, the cart kept sinking in the sand, on the way back, I made two trips, hauling the cooler and fishing seat and then going back for the cart......it was alot of work. Especially since I didn't even get a bite......this evening we went to our beach in Salvo, I left the cart and carried only one rod and the fishing seat/bait bucket. and I caught 4 croaker.

Al in all its been a good week. We spent yesterday sight seeing, we visited the Hatteras Light house, and rode a ferry to Ocrakoke Island and saw that light house. the whole day was interesting and enjoyable. I am looking forward to the next few days.......I would highly recommend the outer Banks to anyone who, like us, tries to avoid the commercialism of other beaches. It is a great family vacation spot.

More to come......

Crappie Fishing

Today I finalized my trip with Captain Brad Taylor to go Crappie fishing this Thursday, June 11th. An outdoors magazine set up the trip for me and one of their photographers to interview a known guide and get pictures for an article I'm writing about crappie fishing. I must admit I've never been fishing with a guide before, so the opportunity is something I'm looking forward to. We will be fishing on Lake Murray in central South Carolina.

When we return I'll give more details on the trip, but not too much, you'll have to get the magazine when it comes out next spring to read the details, after all they have first publication rights to the article.

And in the next week the same photographer and I will be going bow-fishing for another article with the same magazine. Same scenario, more pictures and another article - this one's about bow-fishing along rivers during the day.

After ten plus years of sending out manuscripts and working on the craft of writing, the hard work is paying off. Now to branch out to regional and national magazines.......interestingly, most of the articles I've sold deal with fishing, and I hunt far more than I fish, I guess I need to work harder on the hunting articles.

I'm Back

It's been a while, guess I've been licking my wounds as the old saying goes - trying to figure out what to do since I lost the grounds I've been hunting for the past 6 years. Now I have to find new ground to explore, where, how, learning all over again, new stands, new memories to make. I hate starting over. 

The questions are endless, should I hunt public land or join a club? Is public land safe to take the boys on? More people are shot each year by unsafe gun toting people anxious to get a deer at all costs. I don't know that I feel safe on public ground, and taking my sons, is out of the question. 

As I get older, and mostly as my sons get older I really want the experience to be with and for them. I've killed enough deer, (while I still love it, and wont give it up) I am more interested in introducing them into my love of the outdoors. Taking them along, watching their excitement, listening to them breath as they sleep on stand while I stand watch. Seeing them search the forest floor for signs. So having a place for them is crucial. - A good friend of mine manages a hunt club, I was in it a few years ago to give me some options, in the two years I was in it, I never pulled the trigger or released an arrow - a lot of money to be a spectator. He is in need of members, and I am in need of a place, so I wrote the check. It was somewhat easier since I have sold some magazine articles to fund this venture. Kind of neat that I can pay for my hobbies by writing about the adventures they provide. It is not profitable at all, but it is easier to justify the expense when I can cover most of the cost with selling articles. 

I must admit I have missed hunting with him, of all of the people I have hunted with over the years, I have learned more from him than just about all the others combined. So I am looking forward to reestablishing that opportunity.  

As the spring ends and summer approaches, I will be spending time scouting and locating good locations, it is different hunting with your kids, the scouting is different, the stand locations are different, can they walk this far? Is the stand easier to access? Is this more of an area for does or bucks? All of this has to be considered when taking young hunters, for them the success is in seeing deer, not harvesting. If they go two or three times and only see empty woods, they soon choose to sleep in or play with friends. Patience is something learned, not many are born with it, learning to use anticipation as a fuel for patience is learned. With an attention span of a few minutes at best, sitting in a stand for hours is difficult. 

So I am hopeful, I am hopeful that we will be able to start over, that they will see deer, that they will have the opportunity to see, and perhaps if all the stars align, even harvest. We'll see, but at least I have a place now. 

It's been a while

It's been awhile since I wrote on this blog and as hunting season rapidly draws to an end I begin my annual reflection period and recap all of the great memories I made and experiences I had afield. There is noting I enjoy more than spending time afield. In the woods chasing whitetails, watching squirrels cutting and burying nuts for their long winter. Listening to the greatest sound in nature as a flock of Canada's fly overhead headed for who knows where. Watching a campfire leap into the air and hearing the cracking of the wood as it is consumed for my warmth and comfort. I often spend the late winter recounting these times, these times when friends gather. When a father walks with his sons down long abandoned logging roads in the dark looking for a favorite stand. When friends gather beneath a tarp to stay dry on yet another rainy weekend.

The startling sound of a companion's gun shot in the distance and the instant questions of "did he get one or miss again?" Waiting for the cell phone to vibrate with the report. Looking in a daze over the same woods I have scanned for hours only to be surprised by the sudden appearance of a doe feeding through a lane. "Where did she come from?" I ask myself as I drink in the moment like a desert traveler at a water stop. Caught up in the moment, she is gone as fast as she appeared and another notch is carved in the memory of my time in this great creation.

Some of the memories that stand out over this past year:

• Holding the hand of my youngest son as I walked him to a distant deer stand in the dark, feeling his excitement of the hunt and fear of the dark through his tiny fingers.
• Watching my oldest son on this same morning struggling with dragging his doe and exclaiming: "I want to do this one alone." Growing up before my tear filled eyes as he tries so hard to become a man.
• The excitement at finding signs of feral hogs on the land, an animal I love to hunt - only to be evaded by them time and again.
  
• Hauling stands to new locations,
  
• Deciding not to shoot the biggest 6 point I have ever seen
• Listening to the coyotes bark and howl at another moon or some other distant interest

All of these memories are only a sample of the joy I find in the great outdoors, it is moments like these, these (as one author puts it) "eternal instants" that last only moments in time, but linger in our memories for decades.

I hope I always remember that morning with both sons in one deer stand, I hope I always remember that 6 point in my cross hairs, and my finger never loosing the safety. I hope I always remember the rainy nights, and cold mornings spent with family and friends.

Now I begin my preparation for the season of 2009, it will be different this year. The land I have hunted for the past 6 years is no longer available for me. The memories I hoped to make with my sons there is not available, but, there will be new places to explore, new places to see, and new memories to make. It will be a good year and I am excited to see what it brings.

And for the season of 2008, I can say without hesitation, it was certainly a collection of many other "Times Well Spent."

New Type of Wing Shooting

After many months of discussing, scheduling, and planning I finally was able to schedule a hunt with my brother (Dondi) he loves hunting crows, and I have from time to time called them in with a mouth call. But Dondi is hard core for crows. Electronic calls, decoys, the whole works. We were finally able to get together and spend a day chasing these crows.

We had three good stands and set the caller out in a semi-open area, hiding among the trees we turned on the caller and got ready. It was not an onslaught as I pictured, but it was steady shooting, these crows come to the call like ducks, coming in circling and presenting shots, the biggest issue we faced is that neither of us can shoot worth a dang. We missed many more than we got, but it was a lot of fun.

On one setup, we stoop among some planted pines and the turned on a "come here" call. The caller blared out for a few minutes and the crows started coming in one at a time, every minute or so another crow would appear. On one ocassion, I spotted one coming from the right, drifting in very slow, Dondi was on my right, and I did not see him throw up his gun, we fired at the crow at almost the identical time and we both nailed him. There was no doubt about it, he was dead instantly, getting hit with two loads of 7 1/2's at the same time.

All in all we got 4 crows, not a big shoot, but still a lot of fun. I would really recommend it, if you have access to crows, it is worth the effort to pursue them. While the electroic calls are nice, a good mouth call is all that is needed to get some to commit to shotgun range.