This Is Me.

As a lot of you know, I am a pretty open-minded individual. I would go as far as saying that I am probably one of the more socially progressive people in most of the local groups I volunteer with, my small circle of local friends, my lifelong friends from childhood and even my immediate family. I mean, one of my favorite shows on TV right now is "We're Here", a show that no one I know has probably ever heard of, or would purposely sit down to watch. It's a series on HBO that has ALL the feels and the best cast! Google it to learn more. I'm also an empath, I'm learning how to be a better ally, and I always pull for the people who feel like they don't really fit in. Mainly, because I know that feeling all too well.

I have very short hair, I have broad shoulders, not much to speak up for hips, I wear a t-shirt or hoodie every day and I rarely go without wearing a ball cap. I am a forty-four-year-old female, who has spent most of my life being mistaken for a male. This is my story about a struggle I have dealt with since I was about six years old. This very well may not seem like a big deal to some, and I have even laughed it off myself at times, but it's something that has left my heart hurting, left me feeling like I am not 'enough', and at times, just made me down right angry.

My brother Mike and I, early eighties, at Grandma's house.

I was a tomboy from the start. I was extremely interested in sports at a young age, believing that I was a better athlete than any boy I would face, in any sport I would face them in. I have two older brothers, and I often joked that I was more boy than both of them put together. They were both great brothers growing up, Mike and I were closer in age, having only three years between us, so we spent the most time together. He was always more interested in reading his Dungeons & Dragons books and watching science fiction movies, while I wanted to make big ramps for my BMX bike and practice my free throws. Mike always let me tag along though, when he went to the woods to make forts with the neighbor boys, when he went to play video games with his friend Jason, or when he went to catch crawdads in the creek. He never told me I couldn't do something because I was a girl, or his little sister. That's not to say he wasn't extremely protective, because he was. But once he watched the neighbor boy run home bleeding and crying, because I punched him in the nose for shoving me, my brother had a good idea I could hold my own, by the time I was seven.

My dad was and is, my biggest fan though. If you know me at all, you know how close we are and what he means to me. Like my brother, he never held me back or discouraged me from doing anything I wanted to do, solely because I was a girl. I think he got a lot of satisfaction from watching me prove people wrong and he always encouraged me to compete. I played Biddy Basketball and soccer, early on, and dad never missed a practice or game. When I was nine, I won the Montgomery County Youth Soccer League's Most Valuable Player award, out of a league almost entirely made up of boys. I think my dad was the proudest human on the planet when we got that phone call. I, was of course, very proud also, although I was most excited about the brand-new orange and black soccer ball I received for winning.

But those amazing childhood memories did not come without having my feelings hurt on a regular basis. I suppose it was almost entirely based on how I looked, or the clothes I chose to wear, more than how I performed on the court, or the field. I had short hair, cut similar to the way my brother wore his. I always had on shorts and a t-shirt, sneakers and socks pulled up to my knees, because that's how the guys in the NBA wore theirs, and if I was ever going to make it to the NBA, I needed to look the part, right? This drove my mother nuts. Granted, she would often remind me how disappointed she was, because she finally (and unexpectedly, yes, I was an accident) had a little girl, and I dressed and acted just like a boy. She would buy me yellow and peach colored tops and I would hide them in the back of the closet, like they didn't exist. She wanted me to have long hair and get a perm in it, so I would look more like a girl. I can remember her saying that she felt jealous, due to how close I was with my dad, rather than with her. Mom and I didn't have the greatest relationship from early on, for a variety of reasons. When mom left and my parents divorced, I was almost twelve, and Mike was fifteen, so we were given the opportunity by the judge to choose which parent we wanted to live with. We both chose to go with dad. For me it was a no brainer, he never made me feel like I wasn't who I was supposed to be or that I needed to be something else. For my brother, I think he just wanted to try to keep as much of the family together as possible, but he was more torn about everything than I was. 

My Biddy Basketball days.

During those years between about six and twelve years of age, I was accused of being a boy almost every single day. Back in the early eighties, there really wasn't a name for it, now days that is called being misgendered. Kids would approach me in the church parking lot, behind my Grandma Stites' house in Crawfordsville, where I used to shoot baskets most days. They would do a lot of whispering, then one of them would be pushed forward by the others and ask if I was a boy or a girl. I would tell them with much certainty, that I was a girl, but they never believed me. They said I looked like a boy and played basketball like a boy, so I had to be a boy. Sometimes I would get my brother to tell them I was a girl, I figured they would believe him, but other days, I felt like short of pulling down my pants, they weren't going to believe me. And no, I never went to that extreme. 

Things changed a little bit when I hit puberty and my body started to change. And by the way, I was mortified to have boobs and I am not going to lie, I still dislike them, immensely. I would wear baggy shirts to hide them, because part of me felt like they were ruining my life. Ridiculous, I know, but I was twelve and thirteen years old, so it felt like the world was ending. By the time I got through middle school, I had started to let my hair grow out, because you know, hormones and boys. I always liked boys, as friends, boyfriends, best friends, competitors and teammates. There was never any question regarding my sexuality, at least not by me. There was never an attraction for other girls, nor was there never a feeling that I wished, or felt like, I was a boy. There still isn't, so if you are reading this expecting a big reveal, you are going to be disappointed! 

I got through high school, dating and a few serious relationships in my late teens and early twenties, and decided I wanted to cut some of my hair off, not super short, but just shorter. I got married to a shitty human, which in hindsight, wasn't one of my better life decisions, but his abusive tendencies didn't reveal themselves until after we married. During that eleven-year train wreck, he always wanted me to go get my nails done, he would buy me jewelry that I never wore, or even liked. He should have had ownership in Victoria Secret, as he was constantly bringing home bags of slinky bras and underwear for me. Much like the tops I hid in my closet as a child, they were never worn. He always wanted me to be more feminine, dress sexier, be more womanlike.  It reminded me so much of my childhood and how I was never the little girl that my mother wanted. I was never enough.

One day, in my late twenties, I was walking out of the mall in Lafayette, wearing a pair of mesh basketball shorts, a t-shirt and a ball cap. I was minding my own business, when three girls, who looked to be, maybe twenty years old, give or take a year or two, started making comments. You know when your friends are teasing you and they pretend to sneeze while saying 'bullshit', or whatever word that is fitting at the time, to mock you? Well, these girls did that, looking right at me, but instead of saying bullshit or something funny, they said 'lesbian' and 'dyke', while laughing and running into the mall. I looked around, not realizing immediately that they were talking to me, then I was mortified, when I realized they were. I sat in my truck in that hot parking lot for probably ten minutes, trying to process what had just happened. The longer I sat, the more pissed I got. But I wasn't pissed because they assumed something that wasn't true about me, I was pissed because in that moment, I realized that there are millions of people who deal with this hatred and vitriol on a daily basis, and they cannot escape it. I felt bad for feeling embarrassed about being mistaken for someone in the LGBTQ community. I had friends who were part of that community and it broke my heart to know firsthand, what they had to deal with, although I would never know completely.

Another incident that I remember well, happened in my early thirties, while working in Lafayette. A group of us were in the Garden Center, and since it was winter, and we weren't busy, we were standing around talking. I can't remember precisely what was being discussed, but someone said that they needed me to look at something, because they needed a woman's opinion on it. Without missing a beat, my best friend at the time said "Well, Cindy's opinion doesn't count, because she's not a real woman." My heart sank. I could not believe what she said, but I was more embarrassed that everyone heard her say it. I laughed it off in front of everyone, but I was very hurt, and I don't think I will ever forget it. I have also been told by someone else one time that it was refreshing that I wasn't a hot chick, that I was just a cool person, with a personality. Um...Thank you??

And now at forty four, I am a middle-aged woman, a girlfriend of almost eight years to Chance, a bonus mom to Cianni, and someone who has gained confidence in who I am and what I stand for, and I am still being misgendered, almost weekly. I have been called sir, as recent as last week, at Kroger. I went to vote in our state's primary last month and the older gentleman who signed me in, called me over to his table by addressing me as "sir, or ma'am, or whatever you are". No shit, I am serious as a heart attack that that is exactly what he said to me. I was in a t-shirt and shorts, with a ball cap. Yes, my hair is very short now, pretty much a pixie cut, but for Pete's sake, if you looked at me for even a second, from the front, it was obvious I was a woman. And who says that? Why not say "step forward please", or simply just "next" if you aren't sure? But he said it, and he said it in front of about ten other people. Not that it matters, but I was as nice as a human could be to that fella, I didn't want to return the nastiness in any way, shape or form. Usually, the people who have misgendered me feel more embarrassed than I do in that moment, because I am used to it, but it doesn't make it hurt any less, after the fact.

Chance and I on Lake Michigan

I deal with this constantly. Even at home. I love my boyfriend, he is always joking, rarely does he not have someone laughing about something. He thinks it is hilarious every time someone calls me sir, or mister, or mistakes me for a man. He has gotten in the habit of calling me 'dude' on a regular basis and made comments about how he would like to have a 'girlfriend with long hair.' I know that he is just saying what he does because he knows it gets my goat, and he's teasing, but it still stings when I hear that. Like I said, I love him, but I think I am making it abundantly clear, that while he is quite the funny guy, he can quit with the 'dude' jokes. 

So, why am I telling my story, and why now? In case you live under a rock, June is Pride Month for the LGBTQ+ community. I will never know what it is like to live as a gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or queer person, but I have a tiny sense of what it feels like to be ridiculed, bullied and and made fun of, as if I did. If there was ever a social movement, or group of people I felt I aligned with, the LGBTQ+ community is it. My experiences with people who are not accepting of others who don't fit their idea of social norms, has made me hyper aware of the hurt that words and assumptions can cause someone, even if it is meant as a lighthearted joke or it isan innocent mistake. I have always been more comfortable around guys, I have never felt like I fit in at typical female oriented event, like a wedding or bridal shower, Lularoe or Mary Kay parties, or a girl's shopping trip. I have never worn make-up, I don't feel comfortable in a dress, and I don't own a pair of heels. I knew as a young girl that I never wanted to have children, not a fiber of my being felt that urge, ever. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change the time I have had with Cianni for anything in the world, she is everything to me. I will live and die in my t-shirts and hoodies, I'd rather be hiking in the woods alone, then laying by the pool in a two piece with the girls, and if you challenge me in a free throw contest, I will still probably kick your ass.

Deer Camp, 2018 (photo by: Lindsey Mulcare)

Deer Camp in Montana is the only place I have felt like I truly belonged, with regards to an event welcoming all women, including cis and transgender women, and nonbinary folks, and ironically, it's based around an activity that has traditionally been dominated by men. I was mortified of going and hanging out with a bunch of women, but I quickly realized that at camp, we are all just hunters, and anglers, and foragers, and storytellers, and we aren't expected to act any certain way. I also feel proud that, as a mentor back home, I can teach young girls AND boys how to hunt, shoot archery and skin a squirrel. We need to stay true to ourselves and go out and do things that make us happy, regardless of the activity being considered by society as masculine or feminine. Thank goodness for my dad and my brother for instilling that in me from a very young age, because of them, I have never wavered with who I am, and I have never felt obligated to change, because society thought I wasn't doing 'female' right. I only hope I can instill that in the young people I get to work with in the future.

My biggest supporter, my dad.

I will be called sir again, I am sure of it, but I will continue to wear my favorite ball caps, whenever I choose, and I won't apologize for it. I will not grow my hair out, because this is the most "me" cut I have ever had, and I do not think I should have to have long hair to be accepted as a woman. Everyone has the right to feel good and be themselves. Everyone has the right to live their best, most authentic life. 

I am doing just that, and so are my friends in the LGBTQ+ community, and I bet it hasn't hurt YOU, or complicated YOUR life in the slightest, so why not just let people live and love the way that makes them happiest? The world would be a more joyful, peaceful place, if we did. Halleloo!

Volunteering: Discovering Your Purpose, Finding Balance and Knowing When to Step Aside

I have spent the majority of my adult life trying to figure out what my purpose was, why I was put on this earth. I had friends who were nurses, doctors, teachers, and the like, and in my mind, they were doing things that mattered. I have worked in the horticulture industry for twenty-five years now and it has been a struggle to feel like I have made any kind of impact during that time. I can't claim that I saved anyone's life by planting a tree or taught any kind of life lesson to anyone while scheduling a big commercial landscape project. Yes, I have trained folks on the finer points of pruning and planting, but has it made an impact? I sure hope so, but I just don't have any proof, and that has left me feeling unfulfilled for many years.

In the last eighteen months I started volunteering for various causes. I had never volunteered for anything significant before, and I entered this new world with an immense amount of trepidation and uncertainty. I was first asked to get certified to be a 4-H archery instructor, and then almost instantaneously, asked to get certified to be a Hunter Education instructor. I said yes in both instances, a move that for an introvert, was very unlike anything I would have ever done before that moment, and I still can't explain what made me agree to do either.

A brand new Hunter Education instructor 2018

Around that same time, I was part of a conference call with some fellow Hoosiers who were interested in starting a Backcountry Hunters & Anglers chapter in our state. We had reached the threshold for number of members needed in order to start a chapter, so we had to form a board of directors. I had zero intentions on being on any type of board, I was certain of that going into the phone call. I simply wanted to have a chapter in Indiana so I could get involved in some work days and be part of something that was gaining steam across the country. BHA was growing exponentially and I believe in the mission of protecting and advocating for our public lands, I just didn't intend on doing it in a formal manner. However, once again, in a move completely out of character, I threw my name in the mix when they were asking for anyone who would step up and be a board member. A few months after that, I was invited to be a 2% for Conservation Regional Committee Member, a position I applied for, being that I was already a 2% Certified individual.

2% For Conservation Certified

One of the cool things about volunteering, is that you get to meet so many amazing people along the way. One of those folks asked for one or two new BHA board members to attend, or be apart of, groups that he was involved with, to make sure we were able to give input or be made aware of things going on in the state legislature, regarding sportsmen and women. So, I started attending quarterly the Indiana Sportsman's Rountable meetings and that led to being looped into the Indiana Conservation Alliance. There were so many great people involved with these groups and organizations that I had a hard time saying "no" to anyone who asked me to give my time for their cause. I am also a Hunt To Eat Brand Ambassador, which is something I am very proud of, and happy to do.

Hunt To Eat booth, BHA Rendezvous, Boise, ID - May 2019

Meetings and conference calls started to add up, in addition to work days and pint nights, emails and app notifications that needed prompt attention. I spent the better part of four consecutive days last February at the Indiana Deer, Turkey and Waterfowl Expo, splitting time between the BHA booth and the Hunter Education booth. I gave the keynote speech at the Indiana R3 Summit not long after that and vowed to never speak in public again, only to turn around and stand in front of the Indiana Natural Resources Commission a few months later, on behalf of BHA, and read an official statement in defense of keeping Salamonie State Forest, a state forest, instead of the proposed state park. I wasn't real shot in the ass about doing it, but I was the only one who could sneak away from work and make our statement in the middle of the day. I went to Boise in May to represent Indiana BHA and to volunteer my time helping Hunt To Eat, in their booth. I spent every Tuesday night at the fairgrounds for fifteen weeks, from six to eight pm, working with the 4-H archery kiddos and then worked the fair during their tournament. I spent entire weekends this past fall, in August and September, at Ross Camp, for Hunter Ed Advanced Academy and then the fall Shooting Sports workshop. I helped teach fall and spring Hunter Education classes in my county, which run Friday evening and all day on Saturday, I volunteered a Saturday in October to teach archery to the public at the Fall Colors Festival, at McCloud Nature Park. Then I was asked to give the keynote speech at the Indiana Pheasants Forever State Meeting in January, and with a knot in my stomach, I accepted. I was back at Ross Camp for the weekend at the beginning of February for the Shooting Sports planning meeting. Right before I went to Ross Camp, I was contacted and asked to join the International Caribou Foundation's Board of Directors as their Communications Advisor. And just this past Saturday, at the Hoosier Outdoor Writers Annual Meeting, I was approached about joining the Citizen's Advisory Board for the Indiana Turn in A Poacher (TIP) program.

Talking with my friend and ICO, Tony Mann, whom I met through Hunter Education

I never imagined that I, the girl who didn't like crowds, the girl who would rather keep to herself, and the girl who had never volunteered for practically anything in her life, would be so involved after saying "yes" that one time, almost a year and a half ago, would actually have to scale back and start saying "no". Knowing what the last eighteen months have been like, and how thinly I have spread myself between the non-profit groups I dearly love, and my family, whom I happen to love even more, I knew something had to give. This however, is the hard part. The constant going and doing is easy for me because I love what I am doing. Walking away from something would be really tough.

Working with students in the Hunter Education classes that I have helped teach and working with my 4-H kids each week at our archery shoots, are the two most gratifying things I have ever been a part of. I never imagined that I would feel so strongly about one program, let alone two. The people I volunteer alongside in the Hunter Education Association and the Indiana 4-H Shooting Sports State Team are the lifeblood of these organizations, they are a family, and they are the folks who make it all work. The Indiana BHA team is a strong one and we have learned a ton in the last year. Our chapter is growing and more folks are becoming aware of who we are and what we want to protect.  I am impressed every single day at how in tune these guys are with current legislative issues and how they take action when it is needed. I have been reading up on Caribou, where they once were, and why they are no longer there. The more research I do, I find myself being drawn to learn even more. I find myself feeling a loss for an animal from what seems like a far off place, that I knew nothing about, only a month ago. This is a cause that needs more attention, one that needs to be discussed and talked about in the same way people once talked about the declining deer herds, or the almost extirpated bison. Can you imagine if the Mule Deer or Whitetail were suddenly gone from the lower forty-eight states? How different would our mindset be? What urgency would we, as hunters, suddenly feel?

What it comes down to is choices. A wise man named Jared Frasier reminded me, that when you try to give your time and resources to too many orgs., you are not only being unfair to yourself, but you are being unfair to the orgs. Volunteers are critical to non-profit organizations, and you can make a huge difference by just giving a little bit of your time to a group you feel passionate about. You don't have to go "all-in" like I have, as a matter of fact, I don't recommend it. Before you realize what is happening, your calendar fills up and you are being pulled in multiple directions. And no matter how much you are enjoying the process in that moment, it can, and it will, catch up with you. It's called BURN OUT. So I have decided to step down, and back, from one of the two most time consuming commitments I have, in order to not only give my best to the remaining groups, but so that I can also spend more time with my boyfriend of seven and a half years, Chance, and my bonus kiddo, Cianni. Balance is critical in all aspects of life and I was leaning harder toward my volunteer obligations, and leaning away from the very people I love most. Weekend after weekend away from home, speaking engagements, meetings, working events, etc. were starting to wear thin on my other half. So before I ruined a relationship with the very person who got me into hunting to begin with, I took a step back to evaluate the situation and my priorities, and to make some important decisions.

Myself, Cianni and Chance

I will be focusing and spending my time on the groups that I feel like I can have the most impact and where I can hopefully make the biggest difference. The Hunter Education Association and the Indiana 4-H Shooting Sports programs are local, state based organizations that don't have the immense backing, whether it be volunteers, donations, or the notoriety, that a lot of the national organizations like NWTF, Pheasants Forever, or BHA do. Some of the folks who have been Hunter Education or Shooting Sports instructors have been giving their time and their dollars for upwards of thirty years. The amount of hours that this small group of volunteers is giving is to be applauded. But they need help. They need more people to step up, and quite frankly to just say "yes" to volunteering. There are spring and fall Shooting Sports workshop weekends, Hunter Education classes to be taught all over the state, putting on the Becoming an Outdoors Woman camp, two conservation based summer camps for kids than run over three weeks, the weekly shoots at the local 4-H clubs, work weekends at Ross Camp, Hunter Education Academy weekend, NASP tournament, State Fair and Deer and Turkey Expo booth volunteer opportunities and so much more. And it's always the same people showing up to make all of these things happen. My heart tells me that my time is best spent where it is most needed.

Volunteering in the archery booth at the Fall Colors Festival - October 2019

I recently joined the Board of Directors for the International Caribou Foundation as the Communications Advisor. I have a lot to learn, but like I mentioned before, I am now aware of the importance of bringing awareness and attention to these animals. If we don't give them the same attention and funding that we do other species who were once in decline, they will be disappear before our very eyes, and I'm not just talking about what we have already lost in the lower forty eight.

I plan on being a Hunt To Eat Ambassador until they kick me out, so there's that. The clothing designs are fantastic and tastefully done, I could seriously live in the hoodies, but that's not the best part about this company. The ethos that surrounds the Hunt To Eat brand is something that I feel and believe, in the depths of my soul. Hunting is for everyone, food and the outdoors can bring everyone together, regardless of your skin color, your religion, your sexual orientation, or your social class and we need to encourage that. And it should be noted, the amount of time and money Hunt To Eat puts back in conservation is a business model many brands could, and should, follow.

Lastly, against my better judgement, and at the risk of embarrassing myself, I will continue to do speaking engagements and accept podcast invitations to tell my story. It makes me horribly uncomfortable to speak in front of a crowd, but if it will encourage folks to not only become volunteers for cause they believe in, but to also give anyone who has faced an unimaginable situation in their life, the hope they need, to fight through it and move on to bigger and better things in life. Because if I can do it, anyone can.

Our first Indiana BHA Chapter Pint Night 2018

So, this means I have to give a few things up. I am stepping down as Co-Chair for Indiana's BHA chapter and resigning from the Board of Directors. I hate to do it, but there is a group of guys steering the ship for Indiana that are as sharp as a tack and they are going to take our chapter to great places. This means I will no longer be attending the Indiana Sportsman's Roundtable meetings, nor will I be involved with the Indiana Conservation Alliance (which I was failing miserably at, by the way), as a representative of Indiana BHA. My goal, with regards to BHA, was to get a chapter started in my state. I, along with others, hounded Ty Stubblefield with emails, until he finally gave us the green light. We worked our tails off to meet the requirements needed and I was proud as a peacock to be sitting in the crowd, in Boise Idaho, during the 2018 BHA Rendezvous, when he announced that we were official. I won't soon forget that feeling and sense of pride. But now it's time for me to step aside and let the next passionate public landowner get in there and get their hands dirty. I will continue to advocate for our public lands both near and far, but I will do so from the sidelines.

Randy Newberg and I, BHA Rendezvous, Boise, ID - May 2019

I will leave you with this concept, as described by someone whose actions unknowingly guide me as a newer conservationist, Mr. Randy Newberg: Conservation is never easy, it is always difficult. It is never convenient, things pop up at the worst, most inopportune times. And it is never comfortable, it causes conflict at times and not everyone will agree with you. Randy is right, but another thing I agree with Randy on, is that conservation is absolutely worth it. We aren't giving our time and our dollars for ourselves, or what we are going to get out of it, we are doing it for the generations to come. I told Drew YoungDyke last week while recording his podcast, that I honestly don't feel like I am doing anything special by volunteering for the different conservation-oriented organizations, because anyone can do exactly what I am doing. I also told him, and I am absolutely sincere when I say this, I don't care if anyone ever knows my name or can pick me out of a line-up. I only care about the possibility, that by sharing my volunteer experiences with others, via social media or this blog, and spreading the joy it brings me, along with the real impact volunteering can make, that it will encourage someone else to do the same.

Volunteering in the Hunter Education booth at the Deer, Turkey & Waterfowl Expo - Feb. 2019

I mentioned at the beginning of this piece that I had struggled to find my purpose in life. And while it may have taken me a little longer than some, I finally feel like I have an idea now, what it is. Volunteering is no longer something I am afraid of doing, it is something that I look forward to, and get excited about, because I believe in the causes I am working hard for, and I believe in the people I am working alongside. Lives are being changed every time a volunteer gives some of their time to help someone else learn a new skill, or teaches a new hunter to be safe in the woods, or educates someone on a species that is in trouble, or how to advocate effectively for our public lands. Be a volunteer, one of the lives you change, might just be your own.

Five Women, Four Mule Deer, and a Dog Named Butch

Photo credit: Lindsey Mulcare

We parked the truck and filed out into the wet, cool air. We had to make sure that we knew exactly where we were and what direction we could go, in order to stay within the property boundaries and stay in areas open to hunting, within the property. After checking the wind and chatting a little, we chose to all head off to the southwest, to see if we couldn't stumble upon some Mule Deer. I had never hunted with this many people before, so it felt a little strange and not entirely real stealthy. But for whatever reason, I didn't really mind. I was hunting with four women, a young lady, and a dog, whom I may never have the opportunity to hunt with as a group again, so I was totally just going with it. But to just say I was hunting with them, and then not tell you how amazing they all are, would do them a serious injustice. So, I'll give you a little insight, just a tiny fraction of the attributes that make these women who they are, and you'll understand why this very unplanned, and unexpected group hunt, meant so very much to me.

Sarah K.
Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare

Sarah is someone whom I look up to immensely. She is someone who has known hunting her entire life, literally moved away from it, but found herself wanting to get back to her roots and ended up coming back to be an active participant, in her twenties. She is a confident, strong outdoorswoman, who isn't afraid to go out and hunt solo, but she is also patient enough to offer a new hunter valuable guidance. She lights up a room with her amazing sense of self, and she makes me insanely proud to just be exactly who I am, without reservation. She is someone who makes everyone else better. Sarah is also a freelance writer, covering numerous topics, including the hunting culture and the outdoors, and she is very good at it.

Lindsey and Anna

 Lindsey has an incredible family history when it comes to hunting and conservation. Her Grandmother was an avid hunter and staunch supporter of conservation, passing that on to Lindsey's father, who then passed it on to Lindsey at an early age. She had to put hunting on the back burner for a while, but has returned as an adult, and done so, keeping the family history close to her heart. She was wearing her grandmother's wool coat and carrying her Grandmother's rifle while taking her first elk, so it's no surprise that she is now passing her hunting heritage on to her daughter, Anna. And she is doing a bang-up job of it! Lindsey is also an amazing photographer, who graciously lent her talent to this entire experience, capturing special memories for all us, over the course of those five days in Eastern Montana. To say I am grateful for those photos, her talent, and her friendship, is a massive understatement.

Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare

Anna is an amazing young lady who came to Deer Camp last year with her mom (Lindsey), with no real desire to become a hunter, but after leaving the Crazy Mountains last November, she asked her mom if she could take Hunter Education. She did, and this time around, she was experiencing her first hunt. I couldn't have been more excited for her, or proud to be hunting with Anna, and watching her soak it all in. This young lady is going to do big things, and I have no doubt, going to be an excellent outdoorswoman as she continues to learn and spend time in the field. And a huge shutout to her, for jumping right in to help when things got gritty, with zero apprehension, but I'll get to that here shortly.

Nicole is the reason we were all there in the first place, this idea of Deer Camp is hers, and we are all grateful. She is someone who picked up hunting as an adult to feel that connection with the animals that she often found herself surrounded by, while out hiking or camping. She, as a newer hunter and much like the rest of us, is learning every time she goes out, but she has an amazing way of sharing those experiences with others through her writing, and her ability to tell a story. She isn't bashful when it comes to talking about emotions and what it means to take the life of an animal. We need that voice, we need that honesty, we cry, we celebrate, we feel remorse, but we also feel an immense amount of respect for the animals we kill. She offers a woman's perspective, but it's a perspective that is not felt solely by women, I believe all hunters have these emotions, but she has a way of reminding everyone that there is nothing wrong with expressing them and doing so openly. Nicole is special and I am proud to call her my friend.

Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare

And I would be remiss if I didn't mention Nicole's best boy, "Butch", the only dog I love as much as my own. Butch and I bonded last year at Deer Camp. It sounds absurd, but he calmed the fears and anxieties I had about camping in the mountains, thousands of miles from home, with complete strangers. I knew if I felt freaked out, I just needed to find Butch, and I would be fine. Dogs, they really are something, and this guy is something special. Butch rounded out the crew that day, a crew I couldn't be more excited about hunting with, but also a group I was confident hunting alongside, for my last full day in Eastern Montana.

We didn't necessarily have any sort of plan, we just started walking and glassing from time to time, as we continued to hike further from the truck. After hiking for about forty-five minutes, we decided to climb up a ridge to glass for a minute before heading off in a different direction. Not long after I got sat down, Sarah said she had four does in sight, about three ridges over. We all got eyes on them and watched for a few minutes to see which direction they were feeding. I was sitting on the hillside, smiling ear to ear, my heart starting to race, and I looked back at Sarah and said, "What do you think"? And without hesitation she said, "Hell yeah, let's go for it"! We immediately started descending that steep, rocky hillside that just moments ago I had been sitting on, enjoying the relief of not having my pack on my back or my rifle on my shoulder. As we dropped down, we needed to move swiftly through the wet grass and the marshy area below us because we no longer had eyes on those does and it would be very easy to lose them completely by the time we reached higher ground.

The moment Sarah and I decided to go after the does. Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare

After hightailing it about three hundred yards, we climbed up a small crest, and just as we reached the top of it, I quickly stopped and told Sarah to "get down". There was a decent buck across the way, on a small hillside. I knew that she had an either sex tag, so I wanted her to get eyes on this deer. We had dropped just behind the hillside and after taking our packs off, we crawled back up to find that buck again through our binos. Sarah got eyes on him and ranged the distance, it was something like 268 yards, "I'm totally comfortable with that distance" she said, now looking through her binos again. I suggested that she get set up and take the shot. She had apprehension though, she knew that if she took a shot at that buck, my chance at one of those does was gone. "Cindy, what about your doe, we all want you to get a deer so badly"? I looked at her and told her that I wasn't concerned about those does, there was a buck standing less than three hundred yards in front of us, and it would be ridiculous for her to pass that up. About the time she conceded and started to get set up on the buck, he laid down, facing away from us. She didn't have a clear shot. Sarah said she could be patient and wait him out if that was good with me, which it was. But right after he laid down, there was another development, Sarah spotted three does laying there in plain sight, right next to him. This threw a wrench in our plan.

After laying on our stomachs for a few minutes, watching these four bedded Mule Deer, Sarah asked me if I thought I could get to the next small hill, closer to the Muleys, without getting busted. I honestly didn't think I could get in that specific spot without being seen, but there was a much higher ridge a little bit further away and more to the left, that I felt was a better option, if I was going to put a stalk on these deer. She asked me if I was sure, and I said "No, but what the hell, I might as well try". We came up with a plan where she would stay on the buck while I was making my move. If he got up or moved, she was free to take the shot, if he didn't, and I could get into position to take a shot at one of the does, she would immediately follow with a second shot on the buck. Neither of us had ever tried to double on deer, or have ever been in this situation, so we really didn't know if it was even a good idea, but we went with it anyway, because like I said "what the hell"?

Sarah lining up on the
buck before he bedded.

I scooted back down the hill in the direction we had come from initially, put my pack back on and grabbed my rifle. I had to get around the bottom of the hill we were on and across a flat, wet, grassy area in order to sneak up the ridge that would get me closer to those does. Off I went. I was excited and I started to almost jog, but I remembered that if I got myself in a good position, I was going to have to shoot fairly quickly, and gasping for air once I got my rifle up, was going to make a steady shot much more difficult. So, I slowed my pace a little and started to think through what I needed to do as I approached the ridge. I kept looking back at Sarah to make sure I was never between her and the bedded Mule Deer, and I wasn't. I was angled off to her left, in a safe area where it wouldn't interfere with a shot if she needed to take it. Lindsey, Nicole and Anna had moved off in the opposite direction, and stayed up high on a ridgeline, my eye caught their blaze orange just before I started to creep up the hill in front of me. Now I needed to focus on getting to the deer and not getting busted, my biggest fear was ruining this for Sarah.

I stopped just before I started my climb. I dropped my pack, I took off my bino harness, but took the binos and started up the hill. Once I was about halfway up, I got down on my knees and started to crawl. I got a little closer, so I chambered a round. I still couldn't see over the ridge, so I had no real idea where I was, in comparison to the four bedded deer, but I knew I was getting closer to finding out. I got on my stomach and started to belly crawl. I didn't want to pop over the top of this ridge and immediately spook these deer by getting skylined. Right before I got to the top, I looked back at Sarah one last time, she still had her eye to her scope, still in the same direction. I looked over at the rest of our crew, they were far out of harm's way if I or Sarah were to fire off a shot. I took a breath and eased my head up over the top of the ridge, and there they were. I was shocked, as they were literally right in front of me, still bedded.

I panicked for a split second because it dawned on me that I would have to shoot in the prone position, something I have only done once or twice at a target, and I hated it. I didn't have my bi-pod on my gun due to how heavy it was and how much it bothered my shoulder to carry the added weight, and it wouldn't have worked in that instance anyway. The deer were slightly downhill from me so this prone thing might work out after all. Without hesitating, I flipped my binos over and made a "cradle" or "rest" to set my rifle in and found the doe in my sights. I then found the buck who was bedded ever so slightly down, and to the left, from where she was. There were two other does but I didn't even take the time to find them, they were on the opposite side of the buck from where this one was, and they were laying one right in front of the other, not a shot I could take, for fear of hitting them both. I quickly moved my scope back to the doe I was targeting, slid the safety off, and for some reason started to squeeze the trigger two different times but didn't. I took my breath, I put my finger on the trigger, and I removed it both times. I can't explain it, but I had this horrible fear of missing. I was afraid of missing in front of my friends, I was afraid of failing, after all of this work, after driving over a thousand miles to hunt, after hiking ten to twelve miles a day the few days prior to this, I was afraid of being embarrassed.

Binos for a rest and shooting prone, both new ones for me.
The red highlighted spot in the distance is where the doe was bedded.

But I suddenly didn't have a choice, if I was going to attempt to shoot this doe, I had to do it right now. I had to do it now, because the buck had just stood up, and he looked like he was getting ready to bolt. I quickly found my doe in my sights and this time, without hesitation, I took a deep breath and I squeezed that trigger. I kept my eye in the scope, something that I have a bad habit of not doing, and her head dropped the instant I heard the rifle go off. It was that quick, she didn't get up and run, she didn't flail, she didn't suffer, she didn't move a muscle, it was over just that quick. Just as fast as I heard my own rifle, I heard a shot come from off to my right, Sarah had fired on that buck immediately after I had fired at the doe. I stayed in my position for a moment, not knowing if Sarah had hit the buck or not. She fired again, but I couldn't see the other deer anymore, so I didn't know what was happening. Once I saw her come off her rifle, I was able to breathe again. I sat up and, in that instant, the emotion hit me. I started to cry, but it was more of a huge sigh of relief, mixed with exhaustion, mixed with elation. But there were a few tears shed before I left that spot on that ridge. I went down the hill to grab my pack and other belongings, but for some reason left my rifle up top, so I had to go back up after it, this time, I WAS jogging, actually, it felt like I was floating. When I got to my rifle, I ranged the deer where she lay, 112 yards, I was a little surprised I was that close, but thankful for sure, that it all worked out.

Once at the bottom where I met back up with Sarah, I saw her act like she was jokingly throwing her hat down and she said something along the lines of "Well, crap"! I asked her if she hit the buck because after I shot the doe, I lost track of the other deer. She was like "No, I missed because I punched the trigger.... Wait, what? Did you shoot that doe"? I told her I did, and she almost let out a holler and started laughing and said "Oh, well I don't even care about missing the buck, I didn't know you got the doe"! She was genuinely happy for me, and that takes quite a person to be that way after things on her end not working out. This is why I love this woman, she's amazing. And so is Nicole, and Lindsey and Anna. They were all so happy and excited for me when they learned that I had taken the doe. Huge hugs and a lot of smiles were present when we all met back up. We walked up toward the hillside that the doe was laying on, and like always, I felt a little bit of panic set in when I didn't find her right away, I mean, I knew she was there, but still, I was anxious. Then Lindsey yelled out "Here she is"! I climbed higher on the hillside and saw the brown hair laying beneath a clump of sagebrush. She was beautiful.

The moment we met back up with Lindsey, Nicole and Anna, after I shot my doe.
Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare.

After looking her over, thanking her for her life and all of the meals she would provide in the coming months, and getting some pictures, I mentioned to Nicole that I felt weird about shooting a bedded deer. I had never done that before, and to be honest, the previous October in Wyoming, I had spent almost two hours crawling toward a bedded Mule Deer buck, while waiting for him to stand up before I shot him. I told myself I wouldn't shoot a bedded animal, and I'm not sure what changed between then and now, but something did. I think hearing the rationale from people I trust, from a hunting ethics standpoint, and look up to, like Randy Newberg and Steve Rinella, has made me less judgmental about that set of circumstances and what is acceptable. Not everyone will agree with what I did, and some days I still question my actions, but at the end of the day, I didn't do anything wrong. That doe was awake and as alert as she would have been if she had been on her feet, it is no different.

Now it was time to work. I have never broken an animal down in the field, so I relied heavy on the guidance of these amazing women who had, and they helped me every step of the way. There were four of us in there skinning and quartering, which could make a person nervous with that many knives going in that many different directions, but I was loving every second of the process. This was a team effort and my heart was bursting at the seams watching each person doing their part. Especially Anna. She asked for gloves, she was wielding a knife, she was full of questions and she had zero apprehension about jumping right in to help. She hadn't done this before, but she was amazing. She helped skin, quarter, remove the backstraps, help me gut the deer and go in for the inner loins. Blood on her pants, her jacket, she didn't care, she was all in. That made me proud, I can only imagine how proud Lindsey was, watching it all in real time.

Look closely, that smile never left my face. I love this picture so much.
Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare

Anna was a rockstar! Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare

We all took some meat, put it in our packs, celebrated one last time with a big high five, and started our hike back to the truck. A heavy pack felt amazing, it was all I hoped it would be, but with two defunct shoulders, I was so happy that we were sharing the load that afternoon. I realized after walking about two or three hundred yards that I had lost my phone. For real, lost. I went from the highest of highs to instant panic. I know no one's phone number. not even Chance's, I need my phone to get home, because Lord knows I don't own a map, and all my pictures from this trip and my Wyoming trip from the month before, were on that phone. Holy shit, I need my phone. Lindsey and I backtracked to see if we could find it while everyone else headed for the truck. Thankfully Lindsey had turned on the "Tracker" option on her OnX Hunt app on her phone, so we knew the exact path we had taken. Long story short, we looked, we couldn't find it, we looked some more, and finally I said "Forget it, we need to get out of here before it starts to rain harder, and it's just a damn phone". We started to walk back, yet again, in the direction we had come from, and low and behold, I glanced over and saw it out of the corner of my eye. Just dumb luck if you ask me. We laughed, I thanked her for helping me look and we made our move back toward the truck, which was another mile or mile-and-a half away.

Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare

We got to the truck, loaded up, and slipped and slid our way out of that amazing property before the roads turned to complete gumbo. I sat in the backseat of Nicole's truck, exhausted, with Butch snuggled in on my lap and the biggest smile on my face that you could imagine. I didn't even care that I still had a flat tire to deal with on my truck. That could wait until tomorrow. Once we got back to camp and got the meat into a cooler that I would leave cracked open in the bed of my truck over night to cool, it was time to relax. Nicole asked if we could cook up the inner loins for everyone to have a bite of as a ceremonial celebration, I didn't hesitate in saying yes. She laid out some tin foil on top of the wood burning stove, melted a little butter, set the meat on there and added a few herbs and let it cook. It came off the stove, she sliced it on the top of a cooler and everyone took a piece or two. Maybe it was the moment, maybe it was my pride, or maybe I was just so damn hungry, but I thought that Mule Deer inner loin, cooked in the simplest way possible, was the best I had ever eaten.

People were leaving during the course of the day on Sunday, I missed a few goodbyes, and I had hoped for more pictures of the entire group, but people had lives to get back to, jobs to show up for, and families waiting at home. And so, did I. On Monday morning, I woke up early, got dressed and went out to change my tire. I needed to put the spare on so I could limp into town and hopefully get my tire fixed. I did all the above, and fifteen dollars later, I was heading back to camp to pack up.

Once everything was packed into my truck, I hung around for a bit hoping Nicole, Lindsey, Anna and Sarah would get back so I could say goodbye in person. I chatted with Courtney about her hunt the day before and we talked about the struggles we had both had, but we also talked about how we both needed to be more confident in ourselves and to put the 'fear of missing' out of our minds, because no one is perfect and people miss all of the time. We can't miss out on opportunities just because we are afraid of missing the animal. One of the Game Wardens from Saturday night showed up again, asking if we needed to send any sample with him for CWD testing and I said "Yes, please"! He took my doe's head and filled out a form with my information and where I had killed her. He gave me a card with a reference number to check online in a few weeks to get my results. Which I did (thankfully, my doe did not test positive).

I couldn't wait any longer, so I said my goodbyes to the girls who were at camp and just then, Sarah pulled into the parking lot. And I was elated to find out she had a doe in the back of her truck! This made my day. This somehow made me feel better, even relief, because I felt terrible that she didn't get the buck the day before. Now she was taking meat back to Bozeman and I couldn't have been happier for her. Lindsey, Nicole and Anna were still out, but I had a long drive ahead of me and I couldn't wait for them to return to camp. So just like that, I was headed home. 

The Badlands National Park was amazing. This guy was my favorite.

It was a long trip home, one with an amazing stop in the Badlands National Park, in South Dakota, where I saw the one animal I hoped to see there, a Bighorn Sheep. And to make it even better, I saw five of them, two up close. I saw a herd of Bison, which were beautiful and enormous, I saw a Coyote and some Mule Deer. And those views, I just couldn't believe the views. It was well worth the added two hours to my drive. But I'm not going to lie, once I got into Indiana, the home stretch, I was hanging on by a thread. It was a rough last few hours of driving for sure. I made it home Wednesday morning about 2 am. I woke at 5 am and went to work. By 7 am, I was missing all the women I had spent the last five days with, camping and hunting in eastern Montana. As of today, it's been 58 days since I left Montana and Deer Camp, and guess what, I still miss every one of those women, especially the four that helped carry the weight on that special Sunday afternoon that I'll never forget. And Butch, I miss Butch too.

Photo Credit: Lindsey Mulcare