Dovers Lane

I didn't notice the sign the first time I drove to the hunting area. This time, however, I didn't miss it. As I approached Midlothian, I saw the exit sign, "Dove Ln".

I was invited to an afternoon hunt today and my host informed me that we'd be meeting at around 5:00pm at the hunt site. I marked the site on my nav the last time I was there, so I knew exactly where to go. As I saw that sign, I thought to myself that we'd have a good hunt.

What I didn't know is how much fun we'd have. Most of my experiences around dove hunting is that to have a long walk through pasture, while carrying your equipment, all while suffering in the Texas heat. And, once you get to your spot, you may not see a lot of birds or get a lot of shooting opportunities. Although I hunted hard last year, I only harvested a single bird. Since it wasn't enough for even a snack, I saved it for my sister so she could try a grilled breast.

However, since I hunted this site last week, I knew there would be lots of birds. And, although there were less birds than last week's morning hunt, we had better shooting opportunities tonight. My buddy put out two mojo decoys and they really worked, attracting a good number of birds closed to us. Additionally, we decided to hunt together, so we talked, laughed and shared a couple of beers while we scanned the sky for our quarry. I ended up harvesting three birds and my buddy six. We both shot almost two boxes each...it was great fun.

In addition to all of this, there were another ten people hunting with us, so there was a lot of shooting going on. In all, I brought home sixteen breasts, all of which are now vacuum packed and in the freezer.

After the hunt and cleaning the birds, we told stories of our hunt - yes, there were probably some exaggerations - shared another beer and a cigar and planned another day in the field. Given another opportunity, I will always choose to hunt with friends, both old and new, rather than by myself.

It is the way it was meant to be...

SL

Stanniversary?!?!

As the recession reduced incomes, staying home for inexpensive vacations have become more popular. This phenomenon spawned a new term – staycation. I used this as the basis for a new phrase used to title this post – staying home to celebrate a wedding anniversary.

Since Angie and I are planning for a huge European 10th anniversary trip next year, we thought we’d do something on a much smaller scale this year. I told her to make arrangements for the kids and I would take care of everything else. I wanted to go to Las Vegas and take her to see the Elvis Cirque du Soleil show, but we just didn’t have enough time so I looked for something closer to home.

She’s previously asked me if we could stay at a Hilton hotel that is part of the Rockwall Harbor. The hotel is nice and is surrounded by a harbor on Lake Ray Hubbard with restaurants, shops and a movie theatre. I thought this would be perfect for our stanniversary. I booked the bed and breakfast package with a room overlooking the lake. My plan was to go to a restaurant that we went to as one of our first dates, then go to the hotel for some drinks. The next day we’d have a nice leisurely breakfast, go to a movie and then return home so I could go to work.

Last minute Sunday afternoon she asked me if we could go to dinner a little later. I said we could, so she made plans surprise plans for us earlier in the afternoon.

When we left, she told me where to drive. I didn’t know what she had planned and she didn’t know what I had planned, but her directions to me were to head towards Rockwall. Suffice to say, I was surprised when we ended up in the parking lot to the very hotel that I booked for the evening.

After a drink at the bar, she took me to the harbor and informed me that she had booked a sailing trip on the Seawolf – a catamaran that sails the lake. We boarded with several other people and proceeded to leave the harbor. We cruised for 90 minutes while enjoying the wonderful evening, wine, and each other. When we returned, I informed Angie that I had booked the hotel where we were and gave her a choice to head to the restaurant that I had planned (about an hour’s drive) or we could stay at the harbor and eat at one of the restaurants there (that we could walk to). She said she would prefer to stay where we were, so we went to the Blue Canyon and had an awesome meal.
After dinner we walked around the harbor and then retired to our room.

The next morning we had a nice breakfast and we went to the movie. I hate going to the movies and she loves to go, so it didn’t matter what we were going to see – she was happy. I had purchased tickets to the chick flick “The Backup Plan”.

We had a great time and a great stanniversary. Next year, though, there is no staying home. We are doing Italy, France and England.

Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.

SL

Fresh Fish

Yesterday, I posted about my deep sea fishing excursion off of the coast of Florida.

Today, I am going to share a much different fishing story.

The weather was so pleasant here in North Texas that when Cassie asked me if we could do something outside, I jumped at the offer. We had been talking about fishing because of my trip, so I just threw it out there, "Would you like to go to the park and fish? You could bring your scooter, too."

When she said yes, I was pleasantly surprised.

I packed up the poles and tackle box. Mom put together a cooler of snacks and Cassie got her scooter. We stopped at a gas station on the way, picked up some drinks and some minnows.

We got to the fishing area and noticed that the wind was up, and it was blowing very hard right into our faces. This was not going to be good weather for casting, so I added a couple of weights to each of the rigs. I baited one pole, then another. Cassie wasn't too interested in fishing to start, so she went off exploring and playing with the dog.

She quickly tired and came to me for a pole. I gave her one and kept the other and we waited. She then stated she thought she had a fish. Her line was not taught, so I told her probably not. She started reeling in and mom confirmed that she saw her pole bend. I was skeptical and took her pole. I reeled in a little and said, "nope, no fish sweetie." I gave her the pole back.

She continued to reel in stating she had a fish. I doubted it until we saw silver at the top of the water. She reel him in, a pretty good sized fish. I didn't know what kind of fish it was, noting that the mouth was pretty small. I asked someone else at the fishing area and he said he thought it was a small mouth bass. We took the obligatory pictures, and thinking he was too small to keep (small mouth are 14 inch minimums), we released him - he swam away and we hugged and high-fived.

I told Cassie how proud I was of her. In fact, the entire afternoon she was a very conscientious fisher. She watched her line and remained patient. She was rewarded, too - as she was the only person to catch fish in that area that we saw. Funny, but the guy that I asked what kind of fish we had was pretty pissed off at her, stating that he fished all day and didn't get a bite and we come and get a fish pretty quick.

I printed a big copy of our picture and I will be placing it on my trophy wall with all of my other trophies. However, as I started looking at it, I started doubting that it was a small mouth. There are just no vertical stripes. In fact, there aren't any real stripes at all. I pulled out the Texas Parks and Wildlife Hunting and Fishing Annual and now believe that she caught a white bass. The minimum on these fish is only 10 inches. I'm thinking she might have had a keeper.

All I know is that the memory of her first fish will stay with me. She may forget about it, but I was as happy as if I had caught the fish. I'm hoping that she wants to go more often...perhaps more outdoor type activities will be in our future.

Now that would be a keeper.

SL

Salty Fish

I had the good fortune to have my travel to Amsterdam cancelled this week due to the volcanic ash cloud of 2010.

In fact, the ash cloud and the chaos to air travel that is caused was a blessing in disguise for a couple of reasons. The first that it kept me in the US. The second that it kept several others from coming to the US. These cancellations opened a spot at a vendor event to which I was invited as a last minute replacement.

The vendor event was in West Palm Beach and it was excellent. Great speakers, a good opportunity to get to know a prospective vendor better, a similar opportunity to get to know a colleague, and finally a couple of days of excellent food, great drink and some deep sea fishing.

Out fishing excursion closed the event. We boarded the bus from the hotel to the marina at 8:00am. At the marina, we learned that our boat was a no show, so we boarded another and were taxied to another marina to board a replacement. This may have been another blessing in disguise as our captain and our mate were top notch and put us on the fish.

We motored to our fishing area and I the mate placed our lines. We had six or even our with a couple of teasers and waited. We were going for sailfish, swordfish, dolphin fish, tuna and wahoo. The first strike ended with no fish on a hook, but that got all of our blood flowing. We also had to pick the order and as the prospective client, I was given the honor. A little while later, we had another strike. The mate coaxed the fish to bite again and it was fish on...he handed the pole to me and it was my turn to work.

The fish was taking line out fast, and I didn't realize I was supposed to be reeling in, so I let him take even more. I was yelled at for not reeling, so I started. Instantly, I was tired. It felt like a monster. I reeled for what felt like forever. As the line started getting closer to the boat I saw a glimmer of silver. I was instructed to step back with the pole and the mate brought the fish on board. It was a Bonita - a trash fish that is used for bait. I didn't care. First, I was exhausted. Second, I was ecstatic. Third, the fish was beautiful - blue and silver with these amazing black patterns on its back. He had the fish in the hold and I took a look at him. I commented how pretty its markings were, and the mate informed me that Bonita is Spanish for "pretty". Made sense to me. We made note of the time, 10:15am as I sat down with a celebratory beer.

As we progressed through the rest of the order, we caught more Bonita. The last of the five on the boat brought in a pretty, if not small, black fin tuna. We finally had a game fish on board.

I was up again and brought in my own small black fin. A very pretty fish and a little easier to reel in.

We ended up going through the order again and caught another black fin, more Bonita, and a blue runner (another trash fish used for bait).

I actually got to go again and brought in another Bonita. Not as big as the first and not as difficult to bring in. I was thankful, as my arms had had enough.

All in all, we caught twelve fish. Enough to win most fish on the boat. The next closest to us had only 5. One out of the six boats that went out was skunked. We also learned that my first was the first for all of the boats, so I ended up winning two wonderful bottles of wine.

As we shared fish stories over an amazing lunch of fresh seafood, we learned that the largest fish of the day went to someone who brought in a 13.5 foot tiger shark. The pictures of that were awesome.

There is a saying that goes, "a bad day on the water beats a good day on land". Thankfully, we didn't have to test its validity. We had a great day on the water.

SL

The Point

The last comment I remember was a question about why I would “give up” Facebook for Lent.

The implication was that it had no point.

The good thing is that it doesn’t have to have a point to that person, or anyone else for that matter. It made sense to me and frankly it was a good experience. Even now that Easter is here and that my Lord is risen and I am “allowed” back on Facebook, I won’t spend nearly as much time on it, or engaged in as much of those activities that aren’t a good use of time. Yes, we all need to relax and have some down time, but there is something wrong with the state of things when others are depending on me and I am wasting the day away on Facebook, or playing online poker, or shooting zombies, or watching TV.

So much of my life recently seemed to have a lack of discipline. The only area that I seemed to have under real control was work. That never really seems to suffer, maybe because I know so much relies on my paycheck. But, when my health is suffering from my lack of discipline, or my marriage is suffering because of my lack of discipline, then it is time to make a change.

Giving up Facebook and reclaiming that time for more productive pursuits seemed to be a good start.

First, I committed myself to quiet time with God every day. Reading scripture, prayer and journaling are typically the first thing to suffer in a busy day and I hadn’t done it regularly in a long time. That has been corrected. I am current in my bible reading and actually look forward to this time alone with God. In fact, for the first time, I miss it when I don’t have this time. And, the funny thing is that Angie can tell when I miss a day or two. She sees the change in me, and so have I. That alone is enough reason to ensure that part of my day, every day, is spent in scripture and prayer.

Second, Angie and I started the Abs Power Diet. Ultimately, the diet shows us to eat healthy foods and to build muscle. We are just starting week two and are feeling great. I’ve lost five pounds and have done abdominal workouts for the first time in years. Not pretty, or fun, but finally putting some discipline around what we are eating. The amazing discovery here is that what I eat actually tastes better than the crap I had been eating. Angie made me these chicken feta crumble things on wheat rolls and salsa for dipping yesterday. They were delicious and healthy.

Lastly, Angie and I have started to reengage around service towards others. We are mentoring a young pre-wed couple at church. We know that only through discipline in our lives will we have the time to do charity or other service for others. We both hope that this mentoring actually helps strengthen our marriage while we help a younger couple. We both used to be really involved in service, but because our lives got so hectic and disorganized we pulled back a bit. We have both felt that we should be doing on more, and only through creating more time will we be able to do so.

Ultimately, the last forty days have been transformational for me. And, that was the point. I heard a definition of disciple that I really liked (paraphrasing) “Discipline is doing today what we are able that will help us to the things we cannot do tomorrow. So, like an athlete who cannot bench two hundred pounds today, I will push as much weight as possible until I get there. That’s discipline and that’s why I took a break from Facebook.

I would venture a guess that the people who can relate do so because their lives are hectic, too. Perhaps they also feel the same pull that I feel – that we were meant for more in our lives than just living in our own small universes of ‘self’ or ‘mine’. And those that can’t relate – either they are already incredible disciplined, or perhaps no one is dependent on them.

Either way, I missed you and it’s good to see you. I hope you’ve been well and Happy Easter.

SL

N.B. – Angie gave up fast food for the duration, even to the point where she would watch Cassie and I eat lunch while she sat there foodless. Oh, and Cassie’s lunch didn’t include sodas, because those were her Lenten sacrifice. I am really proud of both of them and I think lunch at Whataburger, with a bunch of cokes, is on me on Monday (we get one cheat meal per week).

Cookie Time

It's that time of year again. Help support Brownie Troop #8459 and fill your tummy with awesome girl scout cookies. They only come around once a year, so stock up. They freeze well, too.

The new cookie this year is named, "Thank U Berry Munch". The name stinks, but the cookie is good. Think shortbread with a little hint of berry.

I'll ship as needed, or better yet - donate your order to the troops overseas!

SL

Texas Duck

I haven't had much success in Texas. In fact, the only two times I have gone have been brutal.

The second time we drove a couple of hours, then walked up and down hills for about an hour. Once we were situated, we sat in the freezing rain and saw nothing. It wasn't a total loss, however...the views were amazing.

The first time was not much better. Although much closer to home, we walked through calf-high mud to get to our spot. Once there we also saw nothing except a beaver (which was actually pretty cool) and a sunrise.

Some say that the third time's a charm. They may be right.

Dylan called me yesterday to tell me he and his dad were going duck hunting in the morning and that I was welcome to join them if I wanted. After the first two times, I wasn't overly excited. However, I knew that there would be little walking involved as Lake Lavon had recovered from its very low water level and that we could boat to where we wanted to hunt. Additionally, we have had pretty cold weather, so I was hoping we might do better than not see any ducks. I also knew that this may be the last opportunity I had to hunt this season so I accepted.

I tried to get to bed early but by the time everything was done it was around 11pm. I must have been excited because I slept like crap. After waking up for the umpteenth time, I rose at 2:11am. I met Dylan at his dad's at the predetermined time. We packed the boat and truck and were off.

Dan took us to his "good" spot. He hunted there a couple of days earlier and saw lots of ducks. We set up the decoy spread, hid the boat in the brush and waiting for sunrise. Dan was very optimistic that we would see ducks landing in the spread quite early and quite often.

He was wrong.

Although we saw ducks, they avoided the decoys like the plague. He'd call, the ducks would check us out and then leave. They often landed in areas close to us, but not in range to shoot.

After about an hour, or so, a flock of canvasbacks came in right towards us. Dan and I fired. I was to Dan's left (Dylan was back in the boat, complaining about cold feet) so I shot at the duck to the left. I hit him, and he coasted to the water. Although not dead, he could no longer fly. We shot at him again while he was on the surface. Dan and I both started to give chase while the duck swam away.

We'd run and fire again. I quickly got winded and Dan said he would get him. An hour later, Dan returned empty handed. He had walked perhaps 500 yards, or more, in 3ft deep water and never was able to recover the bird.

In the meantime, I had returned to the spread. I had no call, but that didn't seem to matter. A lone canvasback approached. I shot and missed.

Dan finally returned, but went to the boat to catch his breath. While there, a flock of eight mallards came into the decoys. I lined the closest and fired. The duck fell. It was a beautiful mallard hen.

Not the greenhead I have been coveting, but a beauty nonetheless. The blue-purple on its wings is stunning.

We finally had a bird in the boat and that seemed to do the trick. We stopped calling and the ducks started coming in.

A pair of widgeons came in. Dylan and I lined up the one on the left...it fell. We're not sure who hit it, but it doesn't really matter. Dan missed his on the right. His continued to circle, looking for its mate, but we never got a good shot. It was amazing to see him fly around and quack searching for the one we downed.

Dan finally got his when a gadwall hen came into the spread.

We stuck around for a while longer seeing ducks, but never able to get them close. We ended the session watching a huge "V" of Canadian geese fly high over head.

I finally got my Texas duck. More importantly we had a great time on the water enjoying a beautiful morning in God's creation.

SL

One Shot Wonder

We started stirring around 8am...we were all well rested and very hungry. After a wonderful breakfast from Jerry of eggs, chorizo, bacon, tortillas and the last of the tamales, we planned our day. Jim and I were going to score a javelina. I had originally planned on bringing the meat home and actually trying it, but had been dissuaded earlier by Jim and Jerry. Had they not convinced me that eating the javelina would not have been the most pleasant experience, I would have come to the conclusion on my own as we cleaned them - but that is for later.

Jim had mentioned a group of hunters that had come through a couple of years ago and how they planned on making a skull mount of a javelina. I thought that might be an interesting momento to my trophy hunt weekend. They grow tusks similar to wild hogs, so the skull has some character. Combine that with the fact that Jim knew of people who would appreciate the meat and I was convinced a javelina was a good way to end the hunt.

Now, we had seen javelina on the property and they didn't appear the be the most wary of game. In fact, some would approach the mule as they had learned to equate the sound of the engine with the dropping of corn. However, they typically didn't get too close.

We started driving around the property. We were both convinced that we would be back at the lodge in short order. It didn't turn out that way.

We drove, sat, dropped corn, drove and sat some more. We did this for the better part of two hours and had only seen one javelina. It was a small pathetic one with a hurt foot. We left it alone.

We finally happened upon a feeder and about 20 javelina milling around. Jim turned the mule to face them at about 100 yards.

We glassed them for a while watching them eat and fight. It is amazing that they aren't related to hogs and they look and act so much like them. I had read that they are actually related to hippos. We watched them for a while and Jim instructed me to find the largest of them. I instantly identified the largest and tried to acquire him in my scope. The problem was that there were so many of them running around that the one I had picked was always behind at least one other javelina.

Because we never had to get out of the mule, I had a perfect rest. I also didn't experience the same level of buck fever with these as I did with the deer. I knew I had all day to wait - the javelina weren't going anywhere as long as there was corn on the ground. In fact, of all the hunting I've done, this seemed the least sporting. It seemed a little more like shooting to me. The javelina weren't going to go anywhere. I could have gotten out of the mule, mooned them, did a song and dance and they still would have hung around.

I watched and the one I picked out finally became clear. Or, at least I thought he was clear.

What actually happened is kind of hazy. I fired true and the one that I had picked out dropped right where it stood. My shot was placed on the shoulder and instantly killed my target.

However, another javelina went flying off to the left...He was clearly gut shot and hurt badly. Jim noticed it first and instructed me to put another bullet into him to finish him off. Unfortunately (as we would discover later as we cleaned him), my second shot went through the back and out through the belly - he was now gut shot twice...although definitely dead as well. To my point about the lack of sporting nature of javelina hunting, the others who scattered were back eating around the two carcasses within 30 seconds of my shooting.

So, my one shot killed two javelina. I'm still not sure if the second one was actually behind the first and the bullet passed through both or if there was some strange ricochet off a bone of the first. Jim made the point, and I completely agree, that it doesn't matter. As the shooter, I am responsible for the outcome. If this had been two deer, I would have had paid a significant price for the error. As it was, each hunter is allowed two javelina a season, so I was done.

Javelina are known as stink-pigs and they are aptly named. In fact, these were two of the more nasty creatures on God's green earth. First, you have to leave them alone after you kill them to give the fleas a chance to make their escape. I'm not sure we gave them enough time because I have a bunch of nasty bites on my hands. Additionally, they stink. Forget the fact that one was gutshot - they both stunk and stunk bad. Javelina have a musk gland on their back that they use when they are alarmed. This gland really gives off some odor. Also, while we were cleaning them I brushed off three ticks that had travelled from the javelina to my hands.

We finally got done with that nastiness and took pictures of the javelina and a couple more of buster. We washed and drew up plans for the meat and the trophies and prepared to say our good-byes and Angie and I were anxious to get home and had an eight hour drive in front of us.

I told Jim that I had planned on a trophy hunt weekend and got the added bonus of making a friend.

I'm not sure which was the greater pleasure, but in the end, it all made up a weekend and a birthday present that I will never forget.

SL

Buster and I (The Dressing)

After taking some pictures, we finally got Buster out of the field. Jim has an area for cleaning that has winches, water and tools.

After weighing the deer (220 lbs), we hung him and field dressed him pretty quickly. I helped as much as I could, but Jim did all the areas where its important to be careful. Because I am shoulder mounting the deer, we had to keep the cape intact which made it difficult to finish the dressing. Angie stayed with us, but tried not to look at any of what we were doing. At one point she looked up and got a good look and didn't enjoy the experience. Frankly, I think she was surprised that I was, literally, up to my elbows in it.

Jim kept telling her that she had to take a bite out of the heart, but when we realized where my shot was placed, there wasn't much left to bite. Although the shot hit about an inch or two to the left of where I wanted it to, it took out the shoulder and the heart for a clean ethical kill. Buster traveled those 50 feet on adrenalin only. I felt good about that.

We finished cleaning Buster, and Jerry and Jim scored him while Angie video taped (she conveniently did NOT tape the dressing). His scores were:


We returned to the lodge, our work done for the night, to finally sit down to dinner. Jerry put some steaks on and we had an amazing dinner over the story of my deer. It was after midnight by the time we went to bed, so I told Jim we could sleep in Sunday morning - there was no reason to get up early - a doe would have been anticlimactic at this point.

The plan for Sunday was to score a javelina, but we could do that at 10am just as easily.

I dreamed about Buster.

SL

Buster and I (The Harvest)

Jim asked me if I marked the spot. I had, so he informed me that he was going to get out of the blind and I should yell to him when he gets to the spot on the road where the buck was when I shot.

He walked about 75 yards down the road and I stopped him. He waved me down and began to look for blood.

The shot occurred with about 15 minutes of legal shooting time left. As we looked for blood it became dark. Jim couldn't find a single drop. Neither could I, but this was only the second time that I ever looked for a blood trail, so I knew if Jim couldn't find any that I wasn't going to be of much help.

We looked for what seemed like an eternity - the whole time I got more and more frustrated and fearful that we weren't going to be able to find my deer. I started to think that perhaps my shot missed. I thought the shot was true, and I was confident that I knew where my shot impacted the deer, but with no blood trail, it seemed as though I was wrong.

Jim gave up looking for blood on the road and entered the brush to look.

He appeared to be too far from the spot, so I started looking in the brush, too - but closer to the blind (about 50 feet closer than Jim). I noticed something shiny on a cactus right near the road and shiny means wet - it could have been blood.

I crossed the road, but couldn't find that shiny item again so I started looking further into the brush. I heard something move about 50 feet into the brush. It scared the hell out of me and I yelled to Jim that something was in the brush. He took a couple of steps closer to me and I took a couple of steps further intro the brush. I heard the noise again. There was definitely something in the brush with us and I said the same to Jim. I moved further in, and could see the deer. It was down, but still kicking. I yelled for Jim that I found it. He yelled to me that if it gets up I should shoot it again.

He came over and sure enough, my beautiful buck was lying still under a mesquite about 50 feet into the brush from where he was shot.

We waited several minutes before approaching and brushed the eye of the deer with my gun to make sure it was down for good. It was then that I got a good look at him and he was absolutely amazing. Jim shook my hand and congratulated me on a successful harvest of an excellent deer.

Now that we found him, we had hard work to do. First, Jim and I dragged him the 50 feet back to the road. We were careful not to drag him over cacti or through mesquites, which made our 50 foot drag more like 100. We noticed one thing...the deer was extremely heavy.

We got him into the road but quickly realized we weren't going to be able to get him into the mule. Jim suggested that we go back and get his truck with the winch. I thought that was a great idea. We drove back to the house (passing a very large rattlesnake crossing the road on the way) and picked up the truck and Angie.

The hard work was about to begin...

SL

Buster and I (The Shot)

I've affectionately named him Buster. He is the most beautiful deer I have ever seen and I will enjoy him on my wall for many many years; not to mention enjoying him on my dinner plate for many many meals.

It might sound strange to a non-hunter that I think he's beautiful, but the truth is that he is a magnificent creature. His death, by my hand, is honored by the fact that he will help feed my family and that I will remember the wonderful time I had on my trophy hunt - which just happened to be my 40th birthday present from Angie.

In fact, the entire weekend was perfect, in every way.

Angie and I arrived at Las Tejanas Ranch thirty miles outside of Laredo at about noon on Friday. The drive from the front gate to the lodge took what seemed like fifteen minutes. While we drove, we noticed acres and acres of mesquite brush, cactus and other hardy desert plants. The country is foreboding, but also beautiful in its harshness. Las Tejanas Ranch encompasses over 1,000 acres of this rough terrain, surrounded by high fence and sports whitetail, feral hogs, and javelina. The owner, Jim Winch, met us along the way to show us to the lodge.

Once at the lodge, we settled in. He had lunch waiting and Angie and I unpacked our gear and ate a little bit, all while taking in the sights of the lodge, it's decor of old pictures and signs and antlers everywhere. Most of the antlers were castoffs, but several were taken as part of harvests and Jim had a story for all of them. Jim ended up being one of those very kind souls wrapped in a tough exterior hardened by a life of physical labor and the Vietnam War. He also was quite sentimental and had a number of items and pictures from his past, each of which also had a very interesting story. In fact, when we weren't hunting, we enjoyed Jim's stories, or those of his cook for the weekend, Jerry.

After we settled in and had lunch, we went to a clearing on the property and sighted in my gun. After nine shots, we were confident that when it was time to shoot the bullet would go where it was aimed.

We returned to the house and decided it was time to get in the blind. Angie planned on sitting in the blind with us for this afternoon session, video camera in hand, in case there was any action to capture. We got into our cammo and into our snake chaps and headed to the blind in Jim's 4x4 gas powered mule. We got into the blind around 3:30pm and got ready.

Two does came in and we watched them eat, get spooked, and return to eat some more. I've seen many does before, but I was still mesmerized. The are so graceful and skittish, it is fun to watch them. I think Angie enjoyed it, too. We hoped for a buck, but we only saw those two until darkness.

That evening, we met Jerry and he prepared a wonderful meal of tamales, rice, beans, and tortillas. It was delicious and Jerry added to Jim's stories. We sat outside talking, smoking a cigar, and enjoying the campfire under the stars.

The next morning, Angie slept in while Jim and I headed to a ground blind. Although the days were in the low 90's, the morning was surprisingly cold. We sat and watched a doe and her yearling buck come in and eat. Another pair of does came in, as well, so we had four beautiful deer in front of us, but no shooters. The mom and son pair got spooked and left, and we watched the doe pair a while longer. A javelina joined them until they all ran off. We didn't see anything else, so we abandoned the blind at around 9am.

We returned to the lodge and had a wonderful breakfast of bacon and eggs and the left overs from dinner the night before. Jim kept saying that the afternoon session would be the one where we scored the buck I was hoping for. I had no reason to doubt him, so I was confident, as well.

After a nap, we left for another blind. This elevated box blind was located at the junction of six trails and Jim instructed me to keep my eyes out on the four in front of us...one had a feeder and he had scattered corn on the others. For several hours, all I did was count dove. Had I had my shotgun, I could have had a nice meal and there were many dove flying around or landing and eating the corn. At this point, I was getting a little frustrated. We hadn't seen a single deer this session and it was getting close to time to go in. But, that's when it happened.

In a whisper, Jim goes, "Scott. There's one to the right. It's a doe."

I raise my binoculars, but I really didn't need them as the deer was within 100 yards. A buck had walked into the middle of the road to eat. It presented a perfect broadside shot. I whisper back, "that's no doe. It's a buck."

Jim replies, "Shoot it". I hear "DON'T shoot it".

I look again through my binoculars...it looks pretty big to me, so I don't understand his instruction. I ask, "is it a shooter?"

"Yes. Shoot it when you are ready. Just don't bang your gun."

I put my binoculars down and move to get my gun. Maybe because Jim warned me not to do it, I bang my gun on the window sill. The deer hears the clang and looks at me. I remain motionless and the deer looks away. I slowly move my gun into position, resting on the ledge of the open window. I am starting to breath very erratically and the buck fever starts taking over. I look through my scope and it is all blurry. I cannot see the dear clearly, and the crosshairs are invisible. I do notice that he is a very nice buck with a big rack, but that just makes my breathing even worse. I blink to clear my vision and the sight picture becomes clear.

I take deep breath after deep breath to slow my breathing and my heart rate down. As I do this, the crosshairs on the scope move less and less. I finally have gotten myself under control and the scope is still. I exhale, hold my breath, hear Jim say "don't jerk the trigger", and slowly squeeze. The gun fires. I believe that my shot is true. The deer jumps straight up in the air, lands, and bolts into the brush. Jim says, "I think you got him".

I breath again...

Das Ladenstraße

It's every man's nightmare. The very thought of it makes me break out in cold sweats. The 'it' I am referring to is accompanying his better half during a shopping spree.

When Angie first informed me of my birthday gift (a trophy whitetail deer hunt in Laredo), we knew that we would have a long ride on our hands. I thought it would be fun to do some sightseeing together on that ride. Fredericksburg was a destination that was often mentioned as a neat little city (and, by chance, it is about the halfway point in the journey). So, we knew we were going to want to stop and spend the night.

I thought this was a great plan. We were going to stop in a German town in the middle of Texas. This meant two things to me: beer and wiener schnitzel. I am not a huge beer drinker, but when I drink beer, I prefer a flavorful German import. I have since I started sucking down 7 ounce nips of Lowenbrau as a much younger person.

We got there pretty late, so much of main street was closed. That was fine by me. In fact, there were only a couple of restaurants open, we were hungry, and I could smell the hops...we found two restaurants side by side. One was indoors and one outdoors. It was a beautiful night, so we opted for outside. We both ordered a Spaten pilsner and all was good. In fact, Angie didn't like hers, so she gave it to me and all was better. She ordered a glass of German white wine to make up for the difference. I ordered the wiener schnitzel and she got a wonderful country fried quail. The meal was great and wasn't completely ruined by the live music which wasn't very entertaining. Angie mentioned going store to store tomorrow, as well as a bunch of other sight-seeing items, but I didn't really understand what she meant.

We got up and ready and left for main street. We parked about halfway down as to keep the full car in sight of a lot of traffic and entered the first store. It was a holiday collectibles store. We entered and didn't come out for over 30 minutes. The store went on and on and on and on and Angie needed to look at everything little thing it offered. I started thinking at this point, if we take 30 minute for every store we'll get out of Fredericksburg sometime in 2012 - just in time for the end of the world which, by then, would have been welcome.

We did the next store and the next. Angie really looked at the stuff and took her time in each. At this point, I noticed that I was neither inclined to keep up nor capable. So, I did the next best thing...I sat on the husbands benches while she shopped. Each time she reached me, I'd move the the next bench. If I needed to stretch my legs, I joined her in a store. This went on, store after store until we reached the end of the block....several hours later.

We decided to have a late lunch in a brewery and then some gelatto in a small shop. We purchased some cigars for the other side of the block and started it all over again. Antiques, collectibles, toys, clothes and touristy stuff...she is like the energizer bunny when she shops (think Lithium) - she just keeps going and going. I went bench to bench, cigar in hand. Sometimes I would talk to another husband, sometimes just play on the phone. She was happy and I was patient, or rather, she was happy because I was patient.

Unfortunately, there is a ton more to do and see in Fredericksburg and that will be for another trip. For now, understand, that the cost of my hunt was not only turning 40, but also shopping with my baby.

SL

Finally!

As I approached my 40th birthday this summer, I told Angie that instead of a big party that I would prefer a guided hunt as a present. She had had her 40th birthday blast about a year and a half earlier and she wanted (and got) the big surprise party. I opted for some quality time in the woods.

In May, she shared with me a hunt idea that she was pursuing. She was looking to get me out to the desert of west Texas for a trophy mule deer hunt. Although this sounded awesome, I thought perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for two reasons: 1) the hunt was VERY expensive and included only the deer and perhaps whatever predators we came across and 2) a desert mule hunt can be very difficult usually consisting of spot and stalk hunting across rugged terrain and ending with a long shot. Truth be told, I am a little intimidated by this kind of hunt, so I suggested she call her cousin Steve.

Steve is my 20-minute Turkey caller. He called two gobblers in within 10 feet of us and we had NO cover with four of us sitting in the wide open. He is a very gifted hunter – knowing the game very well. He always puts his son in a position to harvest a big deer and I trust his opinions and instinct. We shared the lease last year and I hope to get to hunt with him and his son many more times.

Angie called him and he put us in touch with his friend Jim in Laredo, Texas. This friend owns 1,100 acres of high-fenced ranch outside of Laredo. His hunt is all-inclusive and is about half the price of the muley hunt and includes a trophy whitetail. Now, the whitetail will likely be much smaller than the muley I might have gotten, but considering I’ve never even scoped a buck, I will be more than happy with anything that I get. Add the fact that he has hogs, javelin and predators on the property that I may shoot at and I think this hunt is a much better value. Add a possible doe harvest and it could be a very productive weekend.

Jim has been sending us pictures from his trail cams. The deer are VERY large and quite numerous. He’s also regaled us with stories of the hogs and javelin and a very mature diamondback rattlesnake that accosted him in one of the ground blinds. I am very much looking forward to the hunt that begins Friday afternoon. Angie is coming but is not too happy that it will be warm and that the snakes will be active (we’ve both purchased snake chaps for protection).
Angie will be coming with me on Friday afternoon’s hunt. She will cammo up and she will be in the blind. However, the only thing she will be shooting is the video camera.

Her anticipated part of the trip is the ride to Laredo. We are planning on taking two days to get down there with a stopover about midway in Fredericksburg. I’ll be updating Facebook and this blog the whole time. I have told her that she is in charge for these two days. If she says turn left, I turn left. If she wants to stop in a small town and go antiquing, I pull over and go shopping. For her birthday, I gave her an itinerary of small towns and printouts of their antique stores. She is definitely looking forward to the first two days…

…Friday afternoon, not so much (although, truth be told it’s the whole idea of the possibility of coming across a rattler that is what she’s concerned about).

Me? I’m going to enjoy the whole time. Being alone with her and hunting are two of my all-time favorite activities. Whether we score a big buck or not, this will be a 40th to remember, even if it is six months after the fact.

Some things are worth the wait.

SL

Exchanging Pheasant Trees

On Saturday, Utah opened its pheasant season. I didn’t think much of it as we were scheduled to hunt ducks that day.

When the ducks didn’t materialize that morning, we decided to cut out and get a big breakfast at the nearest Cracker Barrel. Fortunately for us, the trip took us through the fields of rural Utah County. We passed many lines of hunters carrying shotguns, retrieving dogs, and families enjoying the beautiful weather.

However, as we drove away from the lake, the most incredible sight any of us ever saw happen right in front of our eyes…about fifteen pheasant flew in front of the truck from the hill on the right to the brush on the left.

Jeremy immediately pulled the truck to the side of the road and got out. He stated putting his waders on. I asked him what was up and he informed me that he was going after those pheasant as there were plenty of roosters in that flight. I didn’t fancy putting my waders back on and he informed me that it was pretty marshy where they landed, so I told him I’d wait for him at the truck. However, Rob said he was going in without waders, so I grabbed a gun and a couple of shells and dove in with the rest of the group. We lined up about 30 feet apart…Rob on the left, Rob’s son next, then me and finally Jeremy on the right. We began walking forward.

After several minutes, we knew we were getting close – we had to be as the lake was fast approaching. Another step and out came a bird. It was literally 10 feet directly in front of me. Unfortunately, it lacked the beautiful red color of a rooster and was obviously a hen. You are not permitted to shoot the ladies, so I let it go.

In an instant, pheasant after pheasant flushed. Shotguns blasted.

When the smoke cleared, we all missed. The several roosters in the group had flown away safely.
We walked back to the truck amazed at the experience that we just had…a five minute pheasant hunt in the middle of our duck hunt.

Perhaps next year we will plan on a real pheasant hunt as part of our waterfowl weekend.

SL

Ducks and Cover

This weekend I participated in my annual Utah duck hunt hosted by Jeremy and Robert Hunter…I’ve worked with Jeremy for almost a decade and we share a real passion for hunting. He’s appropriately named, for sure.

We met at 5:00am at the park and ride – I was waiting as the Hunter’s pulled up with their boat. They have a great little john boat with sides that popup as blinds. About a month ago, Rob’s wife painted the outside of the boat in a cammo pattern so it looks real sweet. It’s got three seats and although a little unstable for three people to hunt from, but it is perfect to use to get out to where we are hunting. They’ve got a very large number of decoys, mojo’s and feeder-butts, so they added a sled this year. They pull the sled full of decoys behind the boat. Additionally, Jeremy jerry-rigged a step on the front of the boat so you can step up and get into it without fear of tearing your waders. I don’t know what they will have next year, but some kind of chair for standing/sitting in the water or some kind of stabilizer to shoot safely from the boat is a good bet. Oh, and they were waxing wishfully about something called a muddy–buddy motor to get them through the shallows much more quickly than the 5-hp lawnmower engine they have today.

Ultimately, I was just happy to be in a boat. My Texas-based experience of duck hunting is that it is very hard work, often trudging through waist-high water or knee-high mud for an hour to get to your spot. And, after getting to your spot, not seeing any duck not to mention shooting at any.

So, it doesn’t much matter to me that we went out three times over two days and got skunked twice.

On our first morning we got out into the water and set up pretty late. In fact, it was after 7am by the time we were ready to go. However, the duck that flew into our decoys while we were setting up told us we were going to have a great day. It was to be a lie.

Jeremy and his brother are great hosts and allowed me the first shot. A swimmer entered our decoys. Most of the time, the ducks that swim in are coots; a duck that forages in the mud and tastes appropriately bad. This time, however, this was a real duck. As the duck took off I shot. We had blood in the boat, a golden-eye hen. As I retrieved my duck, I got stuck out in the open. As it usually happens, when someone is not prepared, the ducks come. In fact, two came in a buzzed right over Jeremy and Rob back near the boat. Unfortunately, they flew right in my direction and no one could safely shoot. The circled and crossed us again, everyone taking a shot but all of us missing. They flew off and I hurried back to the boat.

As you would expect, as I returned, the ducks stopped showing up. For a while, ducks would fly around the perimeter of our set up, ignore our calls, and fly off. Rob got bored and took the boat to see what else was going on. While he was away, a flock of gadwalls flew directly overhead. Jeremy and I dropped one each. While he was scouting, Rob bagged a pintail. Later on, I took a coot figuring I would try and eat it – but I was dissuaded from my plan.

We stayed out for a little longer enjoying the beautiful weather and the amazing scenery. Even if the hunting is slow, I can just look around and enjoy the beautiful mountains that surrounded us on every side. We decided to call it a day and motored back to the car.

We decided when we were finished in the morning to return for an evening session. We were a little disappointed with the showing, so we thought we’d try again. Last year, we scored three in the boat, so our five actually an ok day one.

That evening however, and the next morning, for that matter was more of the same – ducks either completely ignoring us or taking a look by flying the perimeter, but never coming in. It was a completely foreign frustration. Last year, Rob was able to turn any duck and convince it to flair into our spread for a good shot. In fact, we killed fifteen ducks on day two last year…this time? Nada. Nothing even came close. The only interesting thing about our evening was a couple of flights of Canadian geese that flew overhead. We shot at them – all of us unloading our weapons, but they were out of range.

By then, the sun was beginning to hide behind a mountain to the west. A beautiful site for sure, but one that also let us know our day was over. Beside, the mosquitoes started swarming by that point, so it was time to go.

The morning of day two (our last hunting opportunity) was more of the same without the geese or the mosquitoes. We gave up early and decided to call it a day.

That was before we realized it was opening day of pheasant season – but that is a story for another time.

SL

Change of Scenery

I guess all that was needed was a change...

I decided to hunt section #2435 tonight. It's in Blackland, TX and I had scoped out the field last week. It is a 160 acre field with a V shaped border facing a couple of farm roads. It's unimproved pasture, so it doesn't have anything to pull in the doves other than a small tank, which is where I parked, with my back to the boundary (and a tree to provide some cover and shade).

I set my decoys up at the edge of the water and waited. I got their about 4pm, so I expected some company but there was no one there. I began to wonder if this was going to be a good spot after all. The fact that I didn't see any dove and didn't hear anyone shooting in the distance and I really started to wonder if this was going to be a continuation of the slow action from last week.

About thirty to forty-five minutes later others started arriving, and so did the doves.

It's amazing to see the difference in some people. Some were very courteous, apologizing as they walked past me to get to their spot. Others - they just took up a spot that was well within shooting distance and within the range of fire. I couldn't believe this idiot twosome who sat right along the water not 50 yards from me. As they eyed my decoys, I spoke up - I was afraid they were gonna shoot them, they moved on...what a bunch of bozos.

Regardless, having other shooters in the area helps stir up the birds. In fact, the one I bagged tonight was driven right to me from another group of shooters who missed. I used to not want to see others around - like all of the dove were just for me and I didn't want to share the area with them. Now, I want to see others around and hear them shooting. If often means that the birds are headed in my direction. The fact of the matter is that some of the nicest people I have met are the hunters with which I share public land. They are friendly, helpful, willing to share information and tips, and (for the most part) are respectful of rules, courtesy, and fair chase.

I ended shooting about a box worth of shells. There was a lot of stop and go action. The bird I harvested approached me head on (after being fired on). As I stood up to take aim, veered to my left a little. I led him perfectly and fired. He folded and dropped. Unfortunately, he dropped on the wrong side of the boundary fence by about 15 feet - and in some pretty thick stuff. I decided to quickly jump the fence and look for him. About twenty minutes later, I gave up - frustrated again.

I went to sit and hunted for about another half hour when I got up and searched some more. I was so pissed that I couldn't find another and I knew about where he landed, I really spotted it well when it fell. After about five minutes I found him - my first of the season. Unfortunately, some fire ants found him, too, so I had to clean them off of him - getting stung a couple times in the process. It was worth it.

After hunting several more hours and shooting and missing a lot, I called it a night. I know it's only one, but hopefully I'll add to him and turn a small snack into a meal. I used my vacuum packer that Angie bought me last Christmas for the first time, so I have one little dove breast in the freezer. This one has my sister's name on it, but I'm hoping for many more.

SL

Half The Battle

I was back at it this morning. I'm lucky - I can go hunt for a couple hours and still be at work around 9AM.

I went to the same location as on Wednesday, location #2266 in Royce City. I brought my dove decoys with me on this one. I'm not entirely convinced they work - certainly not like duck decoys, but hey - any little bit helps.

I set the mojo dove with a couple of still ones and prepared for the action. I immediately noticed that it was very still - not a breeze to speak of which made it a little steamy. I soon found out that the birds were as still as the wind. There was nothing for at least an hour.

In fact, I didn't even hear a lot of shots around me. There was a father/son duo to my right about 100 yards away and I never heard them shoot - not once. There were only a couple of shots in the distance. Apparently, there were no doves flying. Perhaps the thunderstorms that moved in last night changed their behavior.

After a couple of hours, and as many birds you could count on one hand - A pair came in - they approached me a little left to right. As they entered into range, I shot. The dove folder and fell. Unfortunately, it fell into about 5 foot high grass and weeds about 20 yards away. I marked the spot and started to retrieve. I had to cross a very steep dry creek and when I took my eyes off the location I lost the spot. I knew the general location so I headed over and started the search. I looked through that stuff which was very thick for a half hour. I couldn't find my bird. Their coloring makes them disappear on the ground and unless the field is tilled, it is very hard to find them. I hate that. It seems wasteful, and frankly I don't get enough not to harvest what I shoot. Makes me really want a dog as shooting them is only half the work necessary to harvest.

I returned to my spot empty handed and continued for a little while longer, not seeing any more doves.

I did check out a new spot about 20 minutes to the south, in Blackland. As I drove there, I saw a great many dove...on the power lines, on the side of the road, on fences and in flight. By the time I got to the new spot it was passed the good time to hunt, but I hope to try it out this weekend. Maybe a afternoon hunt on Sunday.

In addition to that, Angie agreed to a weekend dove hunt/camping trip. Not sure where we will go yet, but we're thinking of taking a road trip down south a little.

Anyone have any suggestions as to where there's good dove numbers on accessible land?

SL

Optimism Remains

The first time out is preceded by an optimism like no other.

I figured since this was only the second morning of the season and I've seen a lot of dove all over the place that I would have fast and furious action for a while. As I drove to my spot, I scared up a good number of dove that were feeding in the road. In fact, within 10 minutes of legal shooting time, I had my first shot at a dove crossing from right to left. I missed, but the familiar adrenalin rush was back and thoughts of a freezer full of dove breast began to coalesce in my mind. I was sure that this is the year I get to try out my vacuum sealer to keep a couple examples of that wonderful dark meat dove breast in good condition for my sister's visit in November.

We'll, that was at 6:40am and a lot changed from that point. I sat and scoured the skies for flights of doves for several hours this morning. I took four shots in total, all misses. All of the doves I shot at were singles flying right to left. I saw several more flights, most out of range and one pair that snuck up on me. By the time I saw them, my chance to shoot was gone.

However, there were a number of shotgun blasts all around me. Clearly, there were doves flying - just not so much in my area. Although I was well concealed, the recently harvested field I was hunting over must not have provided enough food and the trees to my back must not have been roosting spots.

Even without a ton of action and with no success, I still love being out in the field. I enjoyed the orange sun as it rose through a clearing in the trees to my back. As I sat there, I thought of what being outdoors means to me. After a long hot summer, being outside before the sun came up was a wonderful change. In fact, it was a little cool this morning. There was a breeze which made the temperature perfect. It was so refreshing - sort of like an ice cold glass of bottled water. The tap is good, but not nearly as much as a glass from the bottle (at least here in Dallas). Being outside was like that. It IS like that. Especially after being cooped up all summer.

Maybe that's why I love dove hunting so much - or all hunting. I am outside, not in a centrally air conditioned house or outside sweating my you-know-whats-off, but outside drinking in the fresh air, the sounds of nature and connecting with the earth, and with God. When hunting alone, I can spend much of my time in prayer conversing with the Almighty. When not alone (usually with Dylan), dove hunting affords an opportunity to talk - as silence isn't nearly as important as concealment.

So, although I got skunked today, it was great to be out. I don't know if I will have a lot of success this year, but it won't be for lack of trying.

And, as I departed the hunting area, I passed a field of milo that hasn't been harvested yet. I know where my next hunting spot is going to be.

It would seem that my optimism remains.

SL

See, I Wasn't Lying

Not a day after I posted about public hunting in Texas, the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department (TPWD) posted this video. They say a picture is worth a 1,000 words and they are right. This video covers public land availability better than I could. And, it's got some neat dove hunting video, too!

I'm going to show this to Cassie and see if she changes her mind about coming with her dad into the field. She's been reluctant, even with promises of pink guns and special time with dad. Maybe seeing another girl with her dad will help convince her.



SL

Hunting In Public

It begins again.

A wonderful thing happens in Texas beginning with September 1st; the date marks the beginning of hunting season - more specifically, the beginning of mourning dove season in North Texas. This is a time of year that I look forward to and it goes all the way into January - which is typically the end of the winter hunts. In fact, other than for spring turkey season, the winter contains almost all of the hunting we can do in Texas.

For September and October, my time will be spent in fields with shotgun in hand watching for doves to come into range. Dove hunting isn't so much as hunting as it is shooting. Unfortunately, shooting and missing is more common as doves can fly extremely fast, they seem to have an innate ability to shuck and jive when being shot at, and become extremely wary as the season progresses. In fact, even with a great deal of time spent in the fields, I only bagged one dove last year. The year before I scored significantly more, but had better spots. This year, I will be dove hunting public lands exclusively as we did not renew the lease in Honey Grove from last year.

Because Angie arranged for my trophy white tail hunt in November, we decided that spending additional money on a lease wasn't in the budget for this season. That means that except for two and a half wonderful days in Laredo, I will likely not be hunting mammals this winter - unless, of course, I get selected for a public hunt.

Texas puts aside over 1 million acres for public hunting. Several of the areas are by permit only and the only way to obtain a permit is to win the lottery for a particular area. Last week I spent several hours putting together my entries for permits. I entered Dylan and I in several deer hunts, a wild hog hunt, a javelina hunt, and a spring turkey hunt. If our entry is selected, we'll have a three day weekend in the particular unit.

The state does a good job of managing the entire process. Each entry cost $3 per adult and the chances of getting selected for some units are actually pretty good. Each year you aren't selected, you get an additional entry point in that category for the following year. At some point, we'll get selected and have an awesome weekend adventure. The javelina hunt, for example, is in the mountains of West Texas near Mexico. If we get to go, it will be a long drive but a great adventure.

Our entries for this year include the following:

Pat Mayse Wildlife Management Area (WMA) - Gun Deer, either sex (limit: 3 deer, one buck). There are 60 permits available and last year they had 150 entries. Hunter success in bagging a deer was 30%.

Cooper Lake WMA - Gun Deer, antlerless or spike (limit: 3 deer, one buck). There are 12 permits available and this is a new location, so there were no hunts last year.

Gus Engling WMA - Gun Deer, management either sex (limit: 3 deer). There are 120 permits and last year they had 833 entries. Last years success was 32%.

Elephant Mountain WMA - Javelina (limit: one javelina and one elk). There are 8 permits available and last year they had 564 applicants for 10 permits. Hunter success was 0%.

Fort Boggy - Feral Hog (limit: unlimited). Last year there were 133 applicants for the 20 permits available with 22% hunter success.

Pat Mayse WMA - Spring Turkey (limit: one gobbler). Last year there were 140 applicants for 32 permits. This year there are 30 permits available. Hunter success was 7%.

As you can see, the state manages an excellent public hunting system. In addition to these hunts, there are several others - including Mule deer, exotics, alligator, and others - including several youth only categories. All are affordable and are located throughout the state so they are reachable regardless of where you live. Except for the Javelina and Hog hunts, all of the hunts we put entries in for are within a couple of hours from the house.

In addition to the hunting opportunities above, the state puts aside a significant portion of land for public dove hunting. A $48 annual public license gets you access to these areas - typically 60+ or more acres of harvested farm land that may, or may not, get a ton of dove fly overs. There are about 1,000 acres close by in Royse City (about 30 minutes from the house) and an additional several hundred acres up north near where the lease was last year. I'm sure I will be out there as much as possible.

Add a possible goose/duck hunt in Wyoming this winter and it should be a full season, even if I'm not in a blind every weekend like I was last year. Unfortunately, if we are going to get a freezer full of meat we'll have to get lucky twice - once to get selected and once to bag some game.

Either way, I will report all of the goings on right here.

SL