I have just returned from a 4 day hunting trip. It trip itself had been in the works for the better part of a couple of months, but my thoughts and reasoning for wanting to do this trip have been in the works for a number of years.
I don't believe there is a short way for me to explain everything that happened during the hunt so I am going to try and break this up into 2 sections: The Event and What Now?
The Event
It was with some trepidation that I accepted the invite to go on this trip in the first place. The reason being that by going on a hunting trip it would force my hand with regards to finding out if I have the ability to kill another mammal. Again I stress, the point for me of killing a deer is two fold; 1) to at least once in my life see what it is like to follow a meal from a living breathing creature to something that ends up on my plate 2) to gain some objectivity on what it is to be an omnivore.
The area where we went to hunt is in the southern interior of British Columbia. We hunted at an elevation of between 1200 and 1400 metres (roughly 4500 feet) which we accessed via a maze of old logging/fire access/cattle roads. Most of these roads were older with a few that showed signs of regular use by logging crews. I was quite surprised by the quality of the roads as you could tell that a number of them were not regularly maintained but were none-the-less in great condition. Where I come from on the coast if you ignore a road for a year it will pretty much disappear underneath a canopy of alder.
I didn't know much about hunting and what little I did I learned from looking online and reading some articles in magazines. Most of the information I found pertained to whitetail deer and in that case it seemed that most people liked to ambush them. That is to say, park themselves in a deer blind somewhere in an area where a deer was likely to wander, and then shoot it. However, I was to learn that hunting can be quite different when looking for mule deer.
There were four of us on this trip and I was the only one without any hunting experience. The least experienced apart from me, still had probably 1/2 dozen trips under his belt. The most experienced had been hunting for over 50 years.
We woke up at 5am and were in place for our hunt by 7am. The fellow whose truck we were all in had to do a bit of back tracking to find the spot where he wanted us to try as he hadn't been on those roads in a few years. The truck stopped, we got out and loaded our rifles. My fellow hunters spoke in soft tones and tested to see which way the wind was blowing. As it turned out the wind was out of the north coming down a wooded slope ahead of us. We agreed to spread out about 200m from each other and head off in a northerly direction. The agreed upon time for return was 2 hours later.
It felt surreal to me as I held my rifle and slowly moved into the bush. I took only a few steps at a time before pausing for a moment to listen. The experience of moving like this is extremely intense. I heard the sound of the breeze moving through the beetle killed pine needles. I heard the rhythmic whooshing of a raven's wings beating the air. I heard the 'tock, tock' of a pilated woodpecker as he searched for insects. I could hear the scrambling feet of a chipmunk as he worked around the outside of tree.
In the space of an hour I had moved probably no more than 1km up the hill and had found myself on an old de-activated logging road. I hadn't seen my hunting buddy on my right in about 1/2 hour and I hadn't seen my buddy on my left since leaving the truck. Suddenly, and without a sound, a grey shape glided across the road about 70m infront of me. I paused and immediately my heart started to hammer in my chest. A second shape slipped out from the trees and then paused in the middle of the old road to eat something on the ground. I slowly dropped to one knee and flicked the saftey off my rifle. My heart was still pounding in my chest as I raised the rifle and peered through the scope at the flanks of the deer. I realized in that moment that all my thoughts and wonderings about what I would do in this exact instance were about to be realized. I had difficulty keeping the recticle still on the vitals area just behind the front shoulders of the deer.
Suddenly, it dawned on me. I don't know if this is a male or a female and my deer ticket is for a buck only.
I lifted my eye out of the scope to try and get a different view just as the deer raised it's head and walked off into the woods. At the time I thought I saw small antlers, but now upon reflection I am pretty sure I was only seeing the very large ears of the mule deer. I tried to move foward and flank the deer on the right side, but I didn't see them again.
It took some time before my heartrate returned to normal and I continued on with my few steps, pause, listen and a few steps more technique. At one point I thought I saw the flash of a tail to my left, but I couldn't be sure that it wasn't either my imagination or a small bird taking flight.
I returned to the truck and eventually met up with the group. As it turned out we had all seen deer - between 2 to 4. They had all been female but we were pretty encouraged and were sure it would just be a matter of time before we came across a buck.
Over the course of the day I saw 18 deer. Of which, I could positively confirm that 15 were female and the other 3 I just couldn't be sure. Needless to say, it seemed to defy odds that there could be so many females without at least a handful of bucks somewhere around.
On our way home that evening I came close to shooting again when I thought I saw a buck. It was a grey, had a white patch on its rump, and small antlers coming out of its head. However, when you want to see something, sometimes your mind can play tricks on you. As I slowly started to put pressure on the trigger I realized suddenly that the antlers were not going upwards but curving backwards. It was a female mountain sheep. I flicked on the saftey and stood up. If someone told me that I would come close to confusing a mountatin sheep for a mule deer I would have said they were nuts. However, I did feel very good about the fact that I wasn't in such a rush to solve my philosophical dilema that I would shoot a beast without making 100% certainty of what it was.
Over the course of the next number of days I would personally see well over 30 does and not one buck that I could confirm. I spoke with another hunter who had been there for 5 days and who had the exact same thing. He had seen 2 bucks, but a chosen not to shoot one and the other had leapt away before he was able to shoot.
I wasn't able to fully resolve my dilema this hunting trip, but I did make some progress when I took a shot (and missed) a ruffed grouse with my .22 that I brought along on the trip. I was going for its head from about 25m away. The ground just behind the bird burst in a cloud of dust, but the grouse just stood there. I tried to get a bit closer but it flew away. My intent had been there and I had tried (and rushed) the shot. While I didn't get a chance to gut and clean the bird I do realize that I don't have too much difficulty with trying to kill and eat a chicken-like creature. I think by the end of the trip that I had see well over 30 of these birds as well.
What now?
I don't know if I will go out again this year - but I have made the decision to try again at some point. I feel that I have a greater appreciation for all animals that make up my diet now having had the chance to try and track one in its natural environment. I have no idea how many cows I saw during this trip as they just wandered through the feilds where we were looking for deer. The animals where I was live a pretty healthy and natural life. While ending a life with a rifle is not a natural end, you can be sure that all the animals I saw during my trip will die. I couldn't help but think of the stories I have heard about cattle who are not allowed to range free - living and dying in a pen.
I have for a number of years tried to my best to eat only free-range and natural meat. I am even more resolved to do the same now having experienced a hunt.
BB
Monday, November 3, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
My first hunting trip...
While this was indeed my first hunting trip, it was not a hunting trip in the classical sense. At least I don't think so...
Late one night last week, my wife and I were lying in bed talking. She, while resigned to the fact that I want to go try hunting, is not totally keen on the endeavour. However, that night I got to talking about food and the fact that since I have my hunting number and license for the year, I am legally allowed to go hunt for upland game birds. She paused, and asked a bit more about if I was prepared to do everything that was required to gut, clean and bring the bird home. I said that I was pretty sure that I was. After a little more discussion, I decided that I would head off early the next morning to go try grouse hunting and be back before noon.
I had trouble sleeping that night and a number of times I got up and went to the computer to look into the process of hunting, gutting and cleaning grouse. There is quite a bit of information out there on the web and while I didn't have the right firearm (I was going hunting with a .22), nor did I exactly know where I was going to go (I have never been hunting for anything before, let alone grouse), I still decided that I would give it a go to see what would happen.
I awoke very early and was out the door by 5:45am. I ride a dual sport motorbike and I knew it was going to be quite cold, so I put on a balaclava to protect my neck and bundled up under my motorbike jacket. I filled up the gas tank, and headed out on the highway headed north.
It was freezing!
My hands were like clubs as I topped a hill just past Fury Creek and pulled over at the entry to a logging road. As I was hopping around in the early morning light to warm up I heard a rumbling behind me, coming from up the logging road. Although it was Sunday, a logging truck came lurching down the road and stopped just past the gate to check his load. We got to talking and he asked me what I was up to. Now, it is pretty obvious that I am up to something as I have to strap my rifle over my shoulder in a travel bag on the motorbike. He wondered if I was fishing or hunting. I told him I was looking for grouse but that I didn't really know what I was doing. He said he loved grouse but that the pickings were pretty slim this time of year as the season had already been open for a month. Those grouse that weren’t dead were going to be pretty gun shy. He gave me a few pointers on where to look. I thanked him, got on my bike, and headed north.
The early morning sun was striking the peaks around me - lighting them up that wonderful alpine pink colour. With the fresh snow of the day before it had a Himalayan feel. I turned up a logging road about 20km past Fury Creek and started my hunt.
Now, my plan was to go reasonably slow on my motorbike, hoping to startle a grouse that would then fly up into a tree. I would then get off my bike, load my rifle, aim at the bird's head, and hopefully hit it. I thought this a reasonable plan as many times before while riding my motorbike along logging roads I had startled grouse who had scattered in an explosion of flapping to the nearest tree. However, I was to find that I would not be seeing any grouse along the road that day.
I did see a number of other birds, however. The first birds that I saw were red-breasted nuthatches. I only know that, as while one got scared by my bike, he flew right beside my head for a few moments before pealing off into the bush. I got a good look at him and identified him when I got home.
After the 15 mile mark along the logging road I found a reasonably sunny spot. The coniferous trees in this area had been logged out and were in the process of coming back, but there were quite a few deciduous trees that were mixed in as well. I got off my bike, loaded the .22, put on my blaze orange toque, and headed up a deactivated logging road.
It was quite the experience. I walked slowly and cautiously. My senses were very alert, but I couldn't help but see some humour in my situation. It felt a bit like I was pretending to be a hunter as opposed to the real deal. My intention was to shoot a grouse if I could find one (and get a good shot at it). I saw a number of other animals that day - but no grouse. What I did see in great numbers were mushrooms; all different types, colours and sizes. I guess the fresh rains had brought them out of the mottled forest floor and the conditions must have been very good. I don't know much about mushrooms, but I picked a few that I thought might be chantrelles to identify when I got home.
By 9:30am I had decided to turn around and make my way back to my bike. By 11:15am I was back at home.
Reflecting upon the day I had to admit that I really enjoyed myself. It didn't matter that I was unsuccessful in the hunt. I enjoyed the walk, I enjoyed spending time by myself, and I enjoyed the heightened awareness of trying to take everything in around me; all sights, sounds, smells and even tastes in the air.
I plan on learning more about edible mushrooms and plants so that regardless of whether I find my intended quarry for the day, I will always be able to return home with something. I look forward to my 'real' hunting trip that is to happen in a few days time. But, I also look forward to more excursions by myself into the outdoors.
BB
Late one night last week, my wife and I were lying in bed talking. She, while resigned to the fact that I want to go try hunting, is not totally keen on the endeavour. However, that night I got to talking about food and the fact that since I have my hunting number and license for the year, I am legally allowed to go hunt for upland game birds. She paused, and asked a bit more about if I was prepared to do everything that was required to gut, clean and bring the bird home. I said that I was pretty sure that I was. After a little more discussion, I decided that I would head off early the next morning to go try grouse hunting and be back before noon.
I had trouble sleeping that night and a number of times I got up and went to the computer to look into the process of hunting, gutting and cleaning grouse. There is quite a bit of information out there on the web and while I didn't have the right firearm (I was going hunting with a .22), nor did I exactly know where I was going to go (I have never been hunting for anything before, let alone grouse), I still decided that I would give it a go to see what would happen.
I awoke very early and was out the door by 5:45am. I ride a dual sport motorbike and I knew it was going to be quite cold, so I put on a balaclava to protect my neck and bundled up under my motorbike jacket. I filled up the gas tank, and headed out on the highway headed north.
It was freezing!
My hands were like clubs as I topped a hill just past Fury Creek and pulled over at the entry to a logging road. As I was hopping around in the early morning light to warm up I heard a rumbling behind me, coming from up the logging road. Although it was Sunday, a logging truck came lurching down the road and stopped just past the gate to check his load. We got to talking and he asked me what I was up to. Now, it is pretty obvious that I am up to something as I have to strap my rifle over my shoulder in a travel bag on the motorbike. He wondered if I was fishing or hunting. I told him I was looking for grouse but that I didn't really know what I was doing. He said he loved grouse but that the pickings were pretty slim this time of year as the season had already been open for a month. Those grouse that weren’t dead were going to be pretty gun shy. He gave me a few pointers on where to look. I thanked him, got on my bike, and headed north.
The early morning sun was striking the peaks around me - lighting them up that wonderful alpine pink colour. With the fresh snow of the day before it had a Himalayan feel. I turned up a logging road about 20km past Fury Creek and started my hunt.
Now, my plan was to go reasonably slow on my motorbike, hoping to startle a grouse that would then fly up into a tree. I would then get off my bike, load my rifle, aim at the bird's head, and hopefully hit it. I thought this a reasonable plan as many times before while riding my motorbike along logging roads I had startled grouse who had scattered in an explosion of flapping to the nearest tree. However, I was to find that I would not be seeing any grouse along the road that day.
I did see a number of other birds, however. The first birds that I saw were red-breasted nuthatches. I only know that, as while one got scared by my bike, he flew right beside my head for a few moments before pealing off into the bush. I got a good look at him and identified him when I got home.
After the 15 mile mark along the logging road I found a reasonably sunny spot. The coniferous trees in this area had been logged out and were in the process of coming back, but there were quite a few deciduous trees that were mixed in as well. I got off my bike, loaded the .22, put on my blaze orange toque, and headed up a deactivated logging road.
It was quite the experience. I walked slowly and cautiously. My senses were very alert, but I couldn't help but see some humour in my situation. It felt a bit like I was pretending to be a hunter as opposed to the real deal. My intention was to shoot a grouse if I could find one (and get a good shot at it). I saw a number of other animals that day - but no grouse. What I did see in great numbers were mushrooms; all different types, colours and sizes. I guess the fresh rains had brought them out of the mottled forest floor and the conditions must have been very good. I don't know much about mushrooms, but I picked a few that I thought might be chantrelles to identify when I got home.
By 9:30am I had decided to turn around and make my way back to my bike. By 11:15am I was back at home.
Reflecting upon the day I had to admit that I really enjoyed myself. It didn't matter that I was unsuccessful in the hunt. I enjoyed the walk, I enjoyed spending time by myself, and I enjoyed the heightened awareness of trying to take everything in around me; all sights, sounds, smells and even tastes in the air.
I plan on learning more about edible mushrooms and plants so that regardless of whether I find my intended quarry for the day, I will always be able to return home with something. I look forward to my 'real' hunting trip that is to happen in a few days time. But, I also look forward to more excursions by myself into the outdoors.
BB
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Hunting Trip Countdown...10...9...
In 9 days I will be heading off on my first deer hunting trip. In fact, it will be my first hunting trip - period. I have never killed another mammal in my life apart from putting one poor Colombian Ground Squirrel out of it misery that had had its back broken by a car. Even that was a little traumatic for me at the time (I was in my late teens). In fact, it was probably at that point that I realized that I was facing a bit of an ethical problem.
You see, I have been an omnivore my whole life. I once spent 6 weeks being a vegetarian just to see what it was like. The rest of my years have been spent eating meat at least 1-2 times a day. When I was young, I remember it being more like 3 times a day 7 days a week. The only exception to my omnivoreness growing up was veal which I decided to stop eating back in the late 80's once I learned that it came from calves. I hate to admit it, but I only realized quite recently that the rack-of-lamb that I love so much does indeed come from a sheep that doesn't see its 1st birthday. Now I think about it, I have also been reluctant to eat pig after learning about how intelligent they are. The argument being that if I could consider an animal to be a loyal pet I probably shouldn't eat it.
All this thinking has left me in a bit of a bind. Am I a speciesist? That is to say that I rank animal's intelligence as a major criteria for my decision to eat or not eat them? What of ethics? Does and animal deserve a chance to live a full life, or at least a chance to grow into adulthood?
So, I have decided to go out and be on the sharp end at least once. That is to say; go out into the woods, shoot, gut and clean a deer, then butcher it (or in my case - help the butcher out).
I fully realize that evening being able to think this way is a luxury of our times. For most of humanity's existence humans have tried their level best just to make sure they made it through the winter – never mind trying to take the high ground when it comes to what they put in their stomachs. However, I can afford the luxury of putting thought into this matter. I have the economic means with which to eat meat regularly if I wish. I even have the means to be able to afford ‘free-range’ and ‘organic’ meat (which I do my best to do). I don’t think of hunting as something that will account for all the meat that my family and I eat through the year. However, I do think that it would be impossible to get anything that is more ‘organic’ or ‘free-range’ than something that has grown up in the woods.
You see, I have been an omnivore my whole life. I once spent 6 weeks being a vegetarian just to see what it was like. The rest of my years have been spent eating meat at least 1-2 times a day. When I was young, I remember it being more like 3 times a day 7 days a week. The only exception to my omnivoreness growing up was veal which I decided to stop eating back in the late 80's once I learned that it came from calves. I hate to admit it, but I only realized quite recently that the rack-of-lamb that I love so much does indeed come from a sheep that doesn't see its 1st birthday. Now I think about it, I have also been reluctant to eat pig after learning about how intelligent they are. The argument being that if I could consider an animal to be a loyal pet I probably shouldn't eat it.
All this thinking has left me in a bit of a bind. Am I a speciesist? That is to say that I rank animal's intelligence as a major criteria for my decision to eat or not eat them? What of ethics? Does and animal deserve a chance to live a full life, or at least a chance to grow into adulthood?
So, I have decided to go out and be on the sharp end at least once. That is to say; go out into the woods, shoot, gut and clean a deer, then butcher it (or in my case - help the butcher out).
I fully realize that evening being able to think this way is a luxury of our times. For most of humanity's existence humans have tried their level best just to make sure they made it through the winter – never mind trying to take the high ground when it comes to what they put in their stomachs. However, I can afford the luxury of putting thought into this matter. I have the economic means with which to eat meat regularly if I wish. I even have the means to be able to afford ‘free-range’ and ‘organic’ meat (which I do my best to do). I don’t think of hunting as something that will account for all the meat that my family and I eat through the year. However, I do think that it would be impossible to get anything that is more ‘organic’ or ‘free-range’ than something that has grown up in the woods.
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