Tuesday, September 7, 2004


* if you think the 4 seasons in the year are deer season, rabbit season, waterfowl season and turkey season.

* if you cheered for the hunter when Bambi's mother got shot.

* if your favorite cookbook is '101 Things to do with a Dead Duck'.

* if your favorite color is blaze orange.

* if you know how old your dog is but haven't got a clue how old your children are.

Sunday, August 29, 2004


I went shopping for a walkie talkie to use at work.  My husband offered to go with me.  He suggested Specialty Sports because they have a lot of hunting supplies there and hunters use walkie talkies, right?  So, we go in and wouldn't you know, the first stop is ... those big fancy gun safes.  I leave him there and look for the walkie talkies.  My husband asks for me and we are informed that 1) they don't carry walkie talkies, and 2) I would need a license for a VHF.  Not for work I say, so long as I'm in the store.  Nope, the dude says, gotta have a license.  SO WHAT!?  You don't have any, so shut up and let me get out of here to find a real store that DOES have them!  But no, my husband has to have a clip installed on his pistol... AND he has to check out those room-sized gunsafes.  Mr. Information opens my husband's dream safe and gives him all the specs which has him drooling but I just roll my eyes.

Do you think all our guns will fit?  he asks.  Why does it matter?  If you don't have enough room you'll just buy another safe right?  And if you have too much room you'll just buy more guns until they don't fit, and then you'll have to buy another safe... right? 

The guy patted my husband on the shoulder and shook his head as if to say 'she's on to you man!'  and departed.  He knew he had lost the sale.

But honey, it matches the gumball machine!  my husband said in a last attempt to convince me that we had to have the wheel-less armoured car.  We actually managed to get out of there spending a whole paycheck, the the cost of the belt clip.  Thats a first for my husband, and I'm sure he didn't like it.  No doubt he'll get his 'fix' later on in the week when I'm not with him.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004


This story took place shortly after we moved here from North Carolina.  My husband had taken my oldest boy out hunting and they had both taken down deer by mid morning.  They rounded up the rest of their little hunting group and as was already customary, everyone met back at our house.  The animals were laid on the driveway and we all got to work skinning them.  Suddenly I remembered the time.... it was time to pick my youngest son up from kindergarten.  I jumped into the jeep and took off for the school just as the kids were pouring from the double doors of the classroom.  I got out of the jeep and rushed over to the group of waiting parents.  Something pulled the hair of my arm and I looked down.  To my horror I saw that both arms were covered with blood!  I quickly stuck them behind my back, but it was too late.  Several parents were already stepping back with wide eyed stares.  My son skipped up to me and held out his backpack as I routinely carried it for him.  I told him to carry it and turned back quickly, making my way to the Cherokee.  A couple of parents had stopped a short distance from the vehicle and were staring at something on the rear of the jeep.  I quickly forgot that as I neared the jeep and saw a glint of wood on the roof.  My swearing began then and there.  I tried as discreetly as I could to remove the shotgun from the roof of the SUV with my bloodied hands and tossed it into the vehicle.  As I hurried around I saw what the parents had been looking at.... blood stains steaked down the rear bumper of the Jeep.  I just smiled, still cussing under my breath, and jumped into my car.  By the time I reached the house my voice was no longer subdued and I repeated every 4 letter word I had practiced on the way home... out loud for all the guys to hear!  I had never been so embarassed as I had been there, driving up with blood all over myself, with blood dripping off my car and a shotgun on the roof!  Tell you what though... nobody bothered my kids at school!  NOBODY!


Its been a while since I last posted here.  I see the bunny-huggers have visited.  Sorry I missed them.  They don't find me funny, imagine that.  I've always wanted to ask them... if you don't like hunting, and you don't like the stories... why go to places like this?  And then after leaving a disapproving comment, end with 'Love'... whats with that?  Oh well, if it makes you feel better, come on back.  You may not find me and my stories amusing, but I on the other hand think you are very funny.

Saturday, June 5, 2004

The Birds and the Bees talk

My husband and I knew there would come a day when the kids would inquire about the birds and the bees, so we came to an agreement.  He would handle the boys and I would take care of the girls.  Sooooo, when my oldest boy, who was about 6 or 7 at the time, asked what the difference between a boy deer and a girl deer was, naturally I sent him to ask his father.  And this is what Daddy had to say:

"Well son, you see, the boy deer has antlers, and the girl deer doesn't"

End of discussion.

Tuesday, June 1, 2004


One thing I've never understood is why some hunters (my friends included) feel the sudden craving for sardines when they go hunting.  They spend all that money on trying to disguise their scent from their prey, and then they pop open a can of smelly sardines at lunchtime in the woods.  Yeah, I'm sure the deer think... "ah, its just some dead fish out there in the meadow, nothing to worry about, ain't no hunters nearby."  And canned chili or baked beans always seem to make it into the camper for the week long ordeal.  I always wondered about my husband's ability to bring home a deer or elk despite his gas and he explained that his farts are a natural odor and doesn't spook the animals.  I have my own theory, they just can't smell cos his gas will run me out of the house in 2 seconds flat!  As for his 'marking the trail', well, thats another hoot.  I swear he can't go 30 minutes without peeing or taking a dump along the trail.  He claims this helps to drive the animals right where he wants them to go.  Now there could be some truth to that one because I will avoid the bathroom at all costs after he's been in there warming the porcelain for more than a minute.

Friday, May 28, 2004

Recipe of the Day, Road Jerky


Peel day old carcass from road.  (I keep a spatcula and some heavy duty freezer ziploc bags in the car just in case).  The best time to harvest is late morning.  If you wait too long the flies will take over.  Let carcass age a little in bag to loosen skin and then peel skin off.  Remove bones.  Add choice of seasonings.  Set out to dry in sun but keep out of reach from flies and dogs.  After curing in the sun for 48 hours test for doneness.  If meat is too tough, throw back on road and run over with truck a few times until you reach the desired tenderness. Note:  avoid carcasses with black fur and white stripe down center.

Wednesday, May 26, 2004


Every where you look now days you'll see camoflauge.  They got camoflauge shirts, camoflauge pants, they even have camoflauge drawers and bras.  Huh?  Now what you gonna do with camoflauge underwear?  Can't recall a single time I was sneaking through the woods in my underwear thinking "man, this would be great if my underwear was camoflauge so's nothing could see me."  Okay wait, there was a time I was in Denver at midnight without a restroom in sight and had to make use of a natural alternative, and I suppose camoflauge may have come in handy... but you still got to pull them things down and theres no hiding a big white butt in the bushes in the middle of downtown Denver!

Kids wear camoflauge to school, and then slouch down in their seats so the teachers don't see them and ask questions.  Don't have the heart to tell them mossy oak only works in the woods.  You need a woodgrain-desk camo to fade into a classroom. 

Saw a Hummer painted Camo.  I yelled out to the driver, 'Hey stupid, your camoflauge don't work on the freeway.... I SEE YOU!'.  Why do you suppose someone would do that, get their vehicle painted camoflauge.  You know dang well that guy won't be driving that 50 thousand dollar truck into the woods to watch his little car-theater.  Might get it scratched or dirty.  Or worse yet, if he walks away from it he may never find it because the camoflauge paint will just blend into the woods.

I think camoflauge is way over rated anyhow.  Here where I hunt you can wear camoflauge, but just incase you blend in too well and the critters can't see you, they make you wear a bright fluorescent blaze orange.  Never realized how silly it was until one day while I was waiting on a ridge for legal shooting time.  As the sun came up I saw all across the meadow and valley.... and it looked like a pumpkin patch!  You couldn't see the hunters cos they were all wearing camoflauge, but you could sure see their blaze orange vest and hats.  Its no wonder nobody shot anything there that morning.  All the elk were on the other ridge shaking their antlers, yelling "Hey dummies, your camo don't work!  I SEE YOU!"

Saturday, May 22, 2004

Weird things hunters do.

When we first moved to Colorado my husband was so excited about the prospect of hunting elk and the great mule deer that he went out and bought all that junk they sell to help hunters' odds of bagging an animal.  (they were more interested in helping hunters empty their wallets if you ask me, but nobody asked me so I'm not saying nothing).  Among the hunting aids he brought home was a little 6oz bottle of doe urine.  Now I wasn't sure I was reading this right so I asked Steve about it and he confirmed that yes, he had in fact just paid $7.99 for a little bottle of deer pee.  That comes out to $170 a gallon!  Deer pee for $170 a gallon, are they nuts?  Its PEE!  Heck, if I knew he wanted pee that bad I would have given him some of mine in a cup for just $5, and there's plenty more where that came from!

He also bought some of those camoflauge outfits.  Thing is, the folks that made the print are from the southeast where there are trees and grass and stuff.  He looked like a grassy, leafy green hill that got picked up from the south by a tornado and dumped in the middle of a desert full of rocks and cactus.  It would take several washings before he blended in with his surroundings.

I think the funniest things I've heard of was from my favorite Women Hunter's board.  We were discussing scent cover-uppers and one lady said she used panty liners dabbed with deer scent (probably that $170 a gallon deer pee) on the bottom of her boots to leave a scent trail.  Another lady mentioned dipping tampons (unused of course) into the scent and tying them to trees and bushes along the trail.  Hmmm, thats one thing I would NOT want to see hanging from a tree while walking through the woods.  But they are tried and true methods and I'm not knocking them. 

My biggest pet peeve with my husband is his need to buy a new gun for every different species he hunts.  He got a shotgun for shooting ducks but wouldn't you know, it wasn't good enough for geese so naturally he needed to get a good goose gun.  Then his deer rifle was fine for deer in the field, but not for deer on the hill, so he had to get a deer on the hill gun.  And elk, well, they're a bigger animal so he needed a more powerful rifle, which he got but it was only good for shots within a 300 yard range.  He still needed an elk rifle for getting those elk standing on the far meadow there in the next state... and a good scope to go with it.  So he got a highpowered scope to go with his highpowered rifle, and his first shot wouldn't you know, was a 35 yard shot that was too close for the scope so he had to aim down the side of the rifle!  Amazing!  Simply amazing!

Thursday, May 20, 2004

Alternate forms of TP

I must admit that in all of the years I have been hunting, I rarely have to actually 'use' the great outdoors.  But when I do, you can be sure that I have a big wad of toilet paper with me.  My guys are the opposite.  They almost never have any with them.  Infact it is so apparent to others in our hunting group that he has been given the nickname 'Short-Shirt' for all of the tee-shirts he has shredded over the years to use as toilet paper in the field.

Okay, I'll admit that I once used some leaves, and once I was in such a hurry to pull my drawers back up that I broke off a bunch of small branches from a tree I was squatting next to and ended up with hundreds of pine needles in my britches.  But I have never been so desperate as to use snow... or worse yet, rocks!

Yes, I said rocks!  One trip my son had a real bad case of stomach cramps and took off over the hill to clear his intestines.  He used a few dry leaves to clean up and went back to where he was watching for elk.  A minute later he was hit by another urge and he ran back up and over the hill.  This time he didn't have time to be picky and he did his thing...  Unfortunately for him he was no where near any foilage.  The only thing handy was a bunch of ... rocks!  Boy, I don't know if these hunters of mine are adaptable and hearty, or just plain stupid!  Their friends are all proud of them though.  Must be a guy thing.

Sunday, May 16, 2004

Luckiest Snake in the World!

It was opening day of quail season and a bunch of the 'regulars' decided to go out to try and rustle up a few birds.  Where we hunt its dry, rocky and covered with cactus, yucca, pinon, and scrub oak.  We'd been walking for hours it seemed and my husband decided that it was time to 'mark his territory'.  When he asked for the toilet paper I knew to place some distance between us.  I wandered off towards a pile of rocks and sat while the others checked around for imaginary birds.  Suddenly we heard a loud, startled 'Whoa!'.  I jumped up and hurried over to where Steve had disappeared in a grove of pinon.  He was coming out, pulling his camo jeans up.

Whats up?  I asked and he pointed to the place he had just recently occupied.  Now I'm not stupid, there was NO WAY I was going in there after him to see what he'd made!  'I didn't do anything' he insisted, 'Just look in there, real slowly'.  I peered into the clearing at the base of a group of trees and there was a small rattlesnake, shaking his tail at me in warning.  Suddenly it dawned on me... my husband had dropped his drawers and had almost squatted over that rattlesnake!  He almost got his butt bit, and that poor snake almost got dumped upon.  The image of the possibilities was too much and I burst out laughing.  By now the others had run over and joined in the laughter. Buddy, all I can say is that if he did get bitten, there was no way I was sucking the poison out from THAT wound.  As for the snake, he has no idea how lucky he was that day!  (yes, that is a picture of the actual snake)

Saturday, May 15, 2004

Family Von Camo

Some families go shopping together.  We go hunting together.  Our family tartan, camoflauge!

First Flintlock Elk

(October 28, 2000) Almost didn't get up this morning, it was one of those mornings when bed just seemed too good to leave. So Steve and I made a deal. If the neighbor's light was on (he was to go hunting with us) then we would go hunting. If not, we would jump back in bed. Welllll, it was on so we grudgingly got into our camo. Now I KNOW most of you hunters have all had mornings like this, it isn't natural to be up at 4am! 6-Shot rode with our friend Elkman, while Steve and I  scaled a sheer rock face on the west side of a valley. Okay, maybe it wasn't a cliff, but it sure felt like one. The only thing that kept me going as I wheezed in the early morning cold was the thought that if I climbed uphill now, it would be all downhill on the return trip. It was chilly and my breath froze in front of me as I panted uphill. Steve didn't even break a sweat, don't know how he does that... As the sun rose we had a wonderful glimpse of the valley below. And elk were running all over the place. Steve was confident that we were near their bedding area and said that we would stay put and wait for them to come to us rather than to chase after them. We watched 6-Shot and Elkman cross a far meadow. It was exciting because judging by their speed we knew that they were on to something. Later we found out that they were on the trail of a herd of 20+ elk. Unfortunately they were unable to catch up with them. We had a small buck and two does pass within 30 yards of us. They looked right at us, but didn't seem alarmed and took their time moving through the trees. We waited for them to pass before moving on. Not long afterwards we heard the sound of loose rocks. I got ready but nothing appreared. Apparently the animals had scented us and took another route around us. Steve quickly picked up their trail, it was probably a cow and two calves. The trail was easy to follow since the ground was still damp from the dew. Ohhhh, let me tell you about the dew, those of you who have never seen frozen dew in the
sunlight are missing one of the most beautiful sights in
the world. I was delibrately kicking the clumps of grass and sage just to watch the frozen crystals drift up into the sunlight, sparkling like a million tiny diamonds. I know Steve probably thought I was dragging my feet and making too much noise, but it was sooooo pretty! It was about 10:30 when Steve froze and told me to set up. I didn't see a thing but I pulled back the flint, setting the trigger and raised the rifle. I looked to where Steve was pointing. 'Get ready!' he whispered. By now I knew him well enough to know that if he says something is coming, then its coming! And right on cue, in a clearing about 100 yards across the ravine, an elk steps out. 'Thats your shot, take it!' Steve said then blew on the cow call. The elk looked right at me. Everything everyone had ever told me about muzzleloading and the flintlock flashed through my head, and it all made sence. I don't remember breathing, just squeezing the trigger. I do recall that the barrel jumped to the right, and I saw the elk whirl around and disappear behind some trees. And I remember a huge feeling of disappointment. I had missed! But keeping my eyes on the spot, I began reloading.
'I missed!' I whispered. Steve thought otherwise, but I was sure. The barrel had moved way too much. I hadn't hesitated with the shot, didn't waste time thinking, I just aimed and fired, but it jumped and I just knew it had thrown off my aim. For now we would wait. It seemed like an eternity. But to rush in after a shot could drive a wounded animal off when it would have rested had it been left undisturbed. Finally Steve indicated that it was long enough and he cut across the ravine. I stayed behind to guide him to the exact spot. We figured that it was approximately 90 yards as the crow flies. It wasn't long before Steve got to the area. Unfortunately he didn't find any blood. He waved me over. By then I was dragging my boots, why did I take that shot, I hadn't practiced enough on my long shots. There was no sign of blood. I blew it I thought. Then, about 25 yards away Steve finally found blood. My first reaction was disbelief. Are you sure its fresh? I asked. He gave me one of those 'I can't believe you just asked me that' looks, after all he has been tracking animals for almost 3 decades now. We started following the trail and my heart grew heavier and heavier every step we took. With such a small amount of blood with such a long space in between I had probably only wounded the elk. Steve tried to give me confidence, after all, the blood though sparse, was a dark red. But even he was concerned about the small amount. Until we found a grass with a very small amount of bloody foam on it. A lung shot! And the drips though small, were falling on both sides of the trail, indicating that the animal was bleedingfrom both sides. Deep tracks suggested that the elk was stumbling. A million prayers went through my mind, please, oh please let it be a fatal shot, please oh please let it be quick, please oh please let me see it behind the next tree. My answers were finally answered about 100 yards later, when Steve turned with a big grin. I looked beyond him and saw the elk. I couldn't believe it. Then I was thanking God, and the Great Spirit, and Steve, and all you guys, all at once, and silently, but mostly, I thanked the spirit of the elk.  It was a young antlerless male, but weighed about as much as a full grown deer.

The Millenium Muley

(October 1, 2000) Sunday started out my 4th season hunting mule deer. In the previous seasons I had only seen one young 2x2 buck, but had to pass the shot because my husband and his friend were tracking an elk in the woods behind the deer and I didn't want to risk hurting them. Had to pass on hunting all together when Steve was in Korea so I was really chomping at the bit to get out
this year. It started all wrong too. Because of unforseen circumstances I was unable to go out with the muzzleloader and my 30.06 to practice the long shots as much as I wanted. At 100 yards with the flinter I wasn't even hitting paper. The decision was to leave the rifle home until I could practice more so I only packed the 30.06 the first morning. We almost hit a couple of cow elk on our way out, they were nice sized, but I wanted to hold off on my elk until it was cooler since I would have to hang the meat in my garage, That would also give me the practice time I'd need with the flinter which is what I want to hunt the elk with. We find our ridge about 200 yards across a yucca field, just off the road. Easy, we just sit up top and wait for something to come by. Nope, too easy! We saw
them, 6 bucks, but they were in a valley way over on the other side, across about 4 ravines. No problem! And off we go. The brush and scrub oak was so thick it was grabbing at me and I half expected them to start chucking apples at me (circa The Wizard of Oz). Steve scared a little rattler and left it shaking its tail at ME! It really didn't want any trouble, other wise it would have bit Steve on the butt as he stepped
over... so I just walked around it. I'd never heard one rattle before, I thought it was a grasshopper in the brush and would have stepped right on through if Steve hadn't stopped me. Steve slipped once onto some cactus and I had to yank the spines out of his butt...I sure hope nobody was watching us cos it sure looked bad! The ridges and fingers were getting really trecherous now, and I began to wonder if we were tracking deer or mountain goats! We finally made it to the saddleback to the right of where we last saw the deer. Steve was hissing orders...look left, look ahead, be quiet, stop, go! I lost my footing on the loose shale and almost slid down the side... the wrong side! The only thing that saved me was my determination NOT to have to climb back up that stupid ridgeface! We figure the deer will be in one of two places. Steve peeks around the
rock then motions for me to drop. I do, automatically lowering the bipod. I raise my head and there he is, looking right at me... a nice husky buck! I'm on a narrow 'goattrail' and am squatting, its real uncomfortable but I get the crosshairs where I want them and shoot. STUPID! The shot when high as my body fought the un-natural position. Steve is hissing for me to reload. The buck moved a little ways, then stopped and stared. But I was going to take my time this time. I sat down and scooted around. Steve was telling me to hurry, but I was mad at myself for taking that first shot and was going to do it right this time. I settled in, took a deep breath, and squeesed the trigger. And he went a few yards before dropping...and rolling into a ravine! Agh! NO! NOT ANOTHER RAVINE!
We knew as soon as the shot hit that the deer was dead. Steve was beaming bigger than me. We were laughing and hungging when he says 'Holy Cow!', I looked to where he was looking, and 3 more big bucks were watching us carrying on. We looked below the ridge, and two more were sitting down watching. They had bedded down right where Steve thought they would, and didn't budge until the buck I had shot had fallen! My buck had been the 2nd largest, there was a massive 5x5 bout near across at the shoulders as a truck! He casually got up as if to say..'Its okay guys, they got Bob.. if they had another tag they would have shot Billy by now, its safe to come out!' These bucks trotted about 50 yards away, then stood on the hill and watched us for about 20 minutes before finally moving away. They would come back later, while I was gutting the buck, and they watched for a few minutes on the back ridge. Thanks to modern technology we were able to call some friends over to help get the buck out of one ravine, across the meadow, down and up another ravine, and then into the truck. I had the honors of skinning it in the garage, and there was so much fat on this deer, it filled a 5 gallon bucket! But the meat smells real good. Steve offered to get a head mount for me, but I just want a European mount.