A Story About Buddy: The Dog I Was Meant To Find, Love, and Keep

Over the last ten years, I have ventured out to the woods more times than I can count. I usually go with a purpose; to hunt, hike, look for morels, and sometimes, just to decompress and get away from the daily grind. I feel like each and every time I walk back out of the woods, I have gained something. Some days that may be a few squirrels or some deer meat for the freezer, or maybe some great photos, other days it might just be some much needed clarity. But I don't think I will ever top what I walked out of the woods with on May 1st, 2021.

It was the last full day of a four-day hunting camp that I had organized for a group of new hunters and a few folks who simply wanted to learn more about the hunting culture. This was a work trip that so far, in my mind, had been successful. 

I was out for a late afternoon sit with one of our guests, August, who was turkey hunting for the first time. We didn't go too far from our base camp, which was Spring Valley Ranch, a nice retreat-type facility, that hosted us for the weekend. We figured since it was an evening hunt, and the birds had been scarce, we would just stay close, rather than venturing way down deep into the Spavinaw Wildlife Management Area, like we had that morning. 

We had a general spot picked out, but we still needed to decide where to set up my little mini blind and place a couple of decoys. We had been told that there were a few roost trees nearby, so we chose a place that we thought maybe the turkeys might pass through on the way back to the roost that evening. 

Our view after getting all set up.

I had August get settled in front of a huge oak tree, while I placed the decoys around twenty-five yards out in front of us. I walked back to where August was sitting and proceeded to set up the blind around us. I gave them their shotgun shells and and reminded them of a few safety items that we had went over in class, the day before. They loaded the shotgun, made sure it was on safe, and made sure they had a good line on the decoys. 

Since August is a right-handed/right eye dominant shooter, I sat to the left of them, making sure that I was concealed by the blind. I got my box call out, thinking I would let out a call, just in case there were any turkeys in the area that wanted to pay us a visit. Right after letting out a few yelps, I immediately heard the dry leaves wrestling over my left shoulder. Anytime you are hunting and you hear something behind you, the last thing you want to do is make a sudden movement or swing your head around and look, but since we had JUST sat down, I knew it wasn't a turkey creeping up on us. I never imagined what it WOULD be though, when I turned my head.

I couldn't immediately make out what animal was that was walking toward us, but I could tell it was really small and not moving too fast. Whatever it was, it was brown in color and blending in with the leaf litter, leaving me squinting while trying to identify it. As soon as it stopped, at roughly fifteen yards from where we were sitting, it turned in a circled three times and collapsed, I knew. It was a puppy. 

I told August that a puppy had just fallen over not far from our blind and they immediately said, "A what?". When I repeated that I thought it was a puppy, they were as shocked as I was. I turned to August and told them that I knew this was their hunt and their trip, and I didn't want to ruin that, but I had to get up and go check on this dog that had just fallen over a few feet from our blind. They didn't hesitate to tell me to go get the dog.

I stood up and slowly walked over to where the dog was laying, trying not to scare it, and when I got a good look at him, my heart instantly broke into a million pieces. This tiny animal just laid there, too weak to raise it's head, but looking right at me while wagging the very tip of it's tail. I yelled back to August that I thought the dog was dying right in front of me. I squatted down whispering "Hey Buddy, what are you doing out here all alone?", while carefully reaching for him, hoping I wouldn't get bit. After I felt like it was safe to do so, I picked the little dog up and immediately felt sick to my stomach. He was nothing but bones and sagging skin, covered in what looked like hundreds of ticks and filth. 

Once I had him up off the ground, he just laid limp in my arms, but looking me square in the eyes the whole time. I carried him back over to the turkey blind and sat him down in front of us. August took the lid off of their water bottle and poured some water into it, hoping the little guy would drink. He wouldn't. I knew we needed to get him back to where we were staying to find him something to eat and try to get him to drink again, so after making sure August was okay with ending their hunt before it ever really got started, we unloaded the shotgun and headed back to my truck, leaving my blind and decoys right where I set them up. 

A few minutes after finding the dog, trying to get him to drink some water.

Once back to Spring Valley Ranch, I went into the kitchen and asked the folks who were cooking the meals for our camp if they had anything I cold feed a puppy that I just found in the woods. After flashing me a surprised look, they told me there was some chips I could give him, if he would eat them. I ended up taking some cheese slices with me too, because what dog doesn't love cheese? I broke the chips up and gave him only a few little pieces at a time, same with the cheese. I didn't want him to devour a bunch of food and then get sick from it. It was pretty obvious, based on his bones protruding all over his body that he hadn't been eating much of anything for a long time. 

He sat on my lap and ate each little piece of cheese I broke off for him, tasting none of it, I'm sure. Then, he stopped. He looked up at me, reached up and licked my face, and then leaned back on my chest, as if he just needed to rest for a minute. So I let him rest. A few minutes later, he was ready for more to eat. Again, I didn't give him much, because I was worried about upsetting his stomach, especially given the fact that he was eating corn chips and processed cheese. 

Taking a break from some cheese to show his appreciation.

August and I then started looking for a way to contain the dog, so we could go back out and try to salvage the rest of the evening hunt. We went into a small storage shed and rummaged around until we found an old, purple Rubbermaid tote. We figured that it was deep enough that the little guy couldn't jump out of it, and honestly, I didn't figure he would've had the energy to do so anyway. I grabbed the towels out of my truck that I was using for seat covers and placed them in the bottom of the tote so he had something soft to lay on. Then we cut the bottom out of a plastic water bottle and put it at one end of the tote, so he had some water to drink. 

Neither August nor myself really wanted to go back out to hunt, but I was there to do my job, and August had paid good money on travel and a non-resident hunting license, so I was going to take them back to the woods and make an effort to get them on a bird. We went back out, sat back down in the blind, loaded the shotgun again, and gave it all of about forty five minutes before admitting to each other that we just wanted to go back to the dog. So, we packed everything up and called it done. Neither one of us could focus on hunting, and we probably knew that before we ever went back out there.

The little dog was still in the purple tote when we got back, which was a huge relief for both of us. Alfred, the manager of the property, was all too familiar with stray dogs showing up at Spring Valley, or seeing them out in the wildlife management area. He said that Spavinaw was a notorious dumping ground for dogs. He believed that people would regularly take the access road to the very back of the property and dump dogs of all shapes and sizes, leaving them to fend for themselves. He imagined the same was true for this dog.

He stayed right where we left him.

And I should mention, there was already a stray at camp the first day we arrived, which was Thursday. That dog was a larger mixed breed, also skinny as a rail and very skittish around people. Well, skittish until we all started feeding her, then she warmed right up to everyone. Someone else at camp that weekend mentioned that they had seen two other small dogs, neither looking like the one that found August and I, but they only saw them once and then they disappeared. 

Alfred went to his house, which was nearby, and soon returned with a small container of dog food and a flea and tick chewable pill that he just happened to have on hand, for a tiny little dog that he and his family owned. He said the weight requirements were probably right in line with what this little guy needed. I was hesitant at first to give the dog the pill, just because he was so weak and had very little food in his system. But after weighing our options, and looking at the dog laying in the tote with zero energy, I knew we had to take the chance to try to get the ticks that were sucking the life clean out of him, off of him, and as soon as possible. This pill was either going to kill him or save him, and I hoped for the best while I sat there and watched him chew it up and swallow it.

We had brisket for dinner that night, and if you are wondering if I saved some for the dog, the answer is yes, I absolutely did. The staff all had our own rooms, and I didn't even think to ask before I carried that purple Rubbermaid tote right over to my room and straight inside. I spent the next hour or so watching that little dog cautiously walk around the room, sniffing, investigating, and checking every few seconds if I was still there. He shook constantly. I imagine it was due to the combination of hunger, exhaustion, and being scared. I talked to him to try to make him more comfortable, I fed him little bits of brisket and dog food, off and on, and made sure he was drinking some water. 

I put the tote right next to my bed, knowing darn good and well that there was a possibility that he may not make it through the night. He was eating and drinking, but he just didn't look good. I got into bed, still trying to figure out what had happened that evening, and what I was going to do with this dog. My partner, Chance, made it very clear on an earlier phone call that evening that keeping him was out of the question. I agreed, but only because we already had two Catahoulas, which are fairly good sized dogs, living in the house, and one of them simply doesn't like other dogs. Plain and simple, I was afraid this little dog would be eaten by Ady and Teddy.

Getting ready for bed.

Throughout the night, I would roll over and shine the light from my phone down into the purple tote, to check on the dog. I truly never knew if he was going to be alive or not, but each time, he would open his eyes and look up at me. This little guy was a fighter, no question. The area of Oklahoma we were in had black bears, coyotes, bobcats, eagles, hawks, and I imagine a handful of other wildlife that could have easily caused the demise of this tiny little brown dog. But somehow, someway, he didn't let it happen.  

Sunday morning, I had a responsibility to take my new hunter back out to try again for a turkey. This would be our last hunt of the weekend, so we were going no matter what. I took the dog outside to try to use the bathroom, then I gave him a little more brisket and dogfood, before putting him in the bathroom with a towel to lay on and a bowl of water, and shutting the door. August and I went hunting but between the complete and utter lack of birds in the area and our focus being on this dog, we really just ended up sitting under a big tree and having great conversation.

After we got back to camp, and I made sure everyone else was doing ok, I headed back to my room to check on the dog and to start packing up my belongings. The camp was ending that afternoon, so I needed to get a plan in place for this little guy, and quick, because I knew I couldn't take him all the way back to Indiana with me. 

I walked into my room and opened the bathroom door to a sweet little dog wagging his tail and crying for attention. He had messed on the floor, but other than that, he was fine. I cleaned up the mess while he wondered around my room, and then I fed him again. Sitting on the floor, watching him eat, and looking into those two different colored eyes was hard, knowing I would have to eventually part ways with him. I had a FaceTime call with Chance and Cianni, his twelve-year-old daughter, and the first thing Cianni said was, "You're going to keep him aren't you?".  I immediately said no, and Chance echoed that sentiment. 

My next task, since I had some down time before the other hunters and mentors came back to camp, was going to be removing ticks. There were probably thirty or forty that were laying dead in the purple tote that morning, when I lifted the dog out of it. I am so glad I took the chance and gave him the medicine the night before, and I am also so glad for Alfred's generosity. That pill probably saved this dog's life.

The amount of ticks I removed from him in about fifteen minutes.
This wasn't nearly all of them.

I started picking the ticks off one by one, and it was heartbreaking just how many there were. Many were dead or dying at this point, several were still going strong, but all of them were attached. The saddest thing for me was watching this little fella wince or hearing him yelp when I tried to remove a tick that was in a sensitive spot like his "arm pits" or around his muzzle or eyes. There were just SO MANY. While I was working on him, August ventured down to my room and offered to help. I think they were as smitten with this little dog as I was, which is why I tried to convince them to take the dog home with them. August really considered it, but after careful consideration, they had to decline. 

I talked with my dear friend Stacey, who had the idea of bringing the dog back to Indiana, and taking him to a rescue that her friend owned. The rescue was located roughly twenty-five minutes from my house, so I would potentially have the option to visit the little guy if I wanted to. One of our camp guests, Hillary, also considered the idea of one of her family members taking the dog. Her brother was a student at I.U. in Bloomington, so I could take the dog to him. But she wouldn't have an answer for a few days, so I was still going to have the dog until then. 

When it was all said and done, I had no takers with our camp guests, and camp was over, I decided to take the dog back to Indiana and to the rescue. I loaded up the purple Rubbermaid tote into the passenger seat of my truck, strapped it in with the seatbelt, and plopped the little brown dog in it for a long drive home. I wasn't the only one leaving Oklahoma with a dog. Gabby, my co-worker at the time, took the larger dog that had been hanging around camp, back to Colorado with her. She really bonded with the dog over the weekend and just decided to keep her. 

I made a stop not long after leaving Spring Valley Ranch, at a Dollar General, to pick up a small bag of dogfood, a collar, leash, two little dog beds, two small dog bowls and a few new beach towels. I had no idea what to expect driving this dog over eight hours back home, but I wanted to be prepared for accidents and possible car sickness. Thanks goodness for preparedness and for the container this little guy was riding in. There was no sickness, but there were a few times I didn't get stopped in time for him to pee, so he just peed right where he laid. He'd get up, move to the other end of the tote and go right back to sleep. The extra towels and the second dog bed came in mighty handy.

I found a hotel on the southwest side of St. Louis that would allow dogs and was cheap, because with how physically, and by now, mentally exhausted I was, I knew I needed to stop for the night. We got into the room and got situated with food and water for him, and Pizza Hut delivery for me, before calling it a night. I knew this dog still had living ticks on him and I knew he was dirty and smelled, but you can bet your ass that not only did he sleep in that hotel bed with me, but he slept on my chest, all night. I never thought twice about it. 

Waiting for pizza at the hotel.

The next morning is where things got complicated. He did great for the remainder of the trip, he slept almost the entire four hours of the drive, while only having one accident. I, on the other hand, did not do great, in fact, I started crying the minute I put him back in that tote and got back on the road. I didn't just cry a little, I cried a lot, and for the entirety of the drive home. There were times that I was sobbing, all while he was sound asleep. I wanted to keep this dog. I knew I loved him, after only roughly thirty six hours of knowing him. But I knew I couldn't keep him, it would never work with my other two dogs and Chance had already said no. It was his house after all, even though I had lived there for almost nine years. He didn't want another dog in the house, and I understood that. 

I drove straight to my friend Stacey's house. I was sobbing when I got there, and I never stopped sobbing. I followed her to the rescue that her friend owned and pulled in the driveway. The man, John who runs the rescue with his partner, Wendy, came outside to meet us. I got the dog out of the truck, still sobbing, mind you, and walked toward the house. The dog got scared by the other animals that were there and peed all over me, but I wasn't about to let go of him. We took him into the house and he wouldn't stop shaking. They had four other, bigger dogs and they were all coming at him, as dogs do, and he wasn't having it. He growled and snapped at two of them. I felt the pit in my stomach grow deeper. I couldn't leave him here. 

Right after arriving at the rescue.

I handed this tiny, brown dog who I was now in love with over to John to hold and get to know, as we all sat on the floor together, and he came right back to me. John said "Wow, he's really attached to you.", which made me cry harder. I finally made myself get up off the floor and walk to the door. I had to force myself to walk out the door and leave. I was devastated. I am actually tearing up right now just thinking about that moment. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. 

I drove home, crying all the way. Once there, I unpacked my truck and hugged Ady and Teddy tighter than I ever have. Of course, they smelled the other dog all over me and had questions. I unpacked, started laundry and cleaned the house up a little, hoping for a distraction from my heartache. Nothing made it any better. Chance puled into the driveway an hour later and I met him at his vehicle before he could even get his door open. "I'm keeping the dog", I said with tear streaming down my face. "No, you aren't", he replied. I pleaded with him, and tried to convince him that it would all be ok. He finally said "Fine", although I knew he wasn't happy about it. 

I immediately called Stacey and asked her if she could go pick the dog up and keep him for the night at her house and I would pick him up the next morning. I needed to go buy a crate, and some other necessary items for him so he would be comfortable when I brought him to our house. She laughed and agree to go get him. He was at the rescue for all of an hour and a half. I was so grateful that John and Wendy understood and were kind enough to hand him back over after agreeing to take him into their home in the first place. 

A few hours later, Chance had changed his mind. He had time to think about the situation over a few beers and came into the house to tell me about it. He looked me straight in the eyes while I was sitting on the love seat in our living room and told me that if I brought that dog to this house, I would have to find somewhere else to live, and he was dead serious. I looked up at him and without hesitation and replied "That's fine, but the dog stays with me until I can find a place to live and get my things packed", and I was just as serious. His face went blank, He knew I wasn't backing down. His expression changed almost immediately and his jawline started to soften. It was obvious to him in that moment how much I cared about this little dog who randomly stumbled upon me, in a forest of northeast Oklahoma, just a few days earlier. He knew there was no sense in arguing with me, the dog was coming home to live with us.

That night was the longest night of my life and while I was completely exhausted, I could barely sleep. I picked him up the next morning after a trip to Walmart, and we headed straight to the vet. He weighed barely nine pounds, he was emaciated, dirty, had one eye that he couldn't open all the way, a back leg that worked only half the time, a singed spot on his tail, and he just laid on the exam table. The vet tech's took such good care of him, carefully removing the remaining ticks, checking him over and giving him all the pets. The reason he couldn't open his eye all the way was because he had two tiny ticks on the underside of his eyelid. I felt terrible for him when they found those. 

The vet himself, listened intently as I told him how I found this dog, and he couldn't believe he survived the environment. He estimated based on how the dog looked and how many ticks were on him initially that he could have been out there for a month or better. A MONTH. How did this little guy survive that? He had blood drawn so he could be tested for three different tick-borne diseases and heartworms, and he received a shot of vitamin B12 under the skin since he was so malnourished. He yelped out in pain when he got that, but it would help him absorb nutrients as he began to eat more in the coming days. He ended up testing positive for only one thing, thankfully, which was Ehrlichia, from the ticks. It can cause various symptoms like lethargy, depression, fever, and the most dangerous issue, spontaneous bleeding. Ehrlichia can be treated with antibiotics, which is what we started immediately, as well as a de-wormer.

Our first vet visit.

Once home from the vet, I carefully introduced him to Ady and Teddy, and to my surprise, he never acted aggressively to them like he did to the dogs at the rescue. Maybe because he was able to sense that I was comfortable with them, I don't know. Even more surprising though, was how Ady and Teddy reacted to him. They were both scared of him. Like to the point that they went down the hall and hid from him. Eventually they came around, but refused to get to close to him. It was pretty comical, but more than that, it was a big relief.

Cianni came to visit the next evening, and I met her at the door with our newest family member. As soon as she opened the door she gasped and said " I KNEW you would keep him!", and in that moment I admitted that I wanted to keep him the moment I laid eyes on him. That is just who I am.

I decided to name him "Buddy". Chance wanted to name him "Steve", which is what he tries to name every dog we get, for whatever reason. I considered a name tied to Oklahoma that was catchy, but nothing fit him. I settled on Buddy because the first time I talked to him out in the woods on that Saturday afternoon, as he laid there so desperate for help, hanging on to whatever life he had left in him, that's what I called him. The name just fit.

A few days after getting settled, he was so incredibly thin. 

He slept for about two weeks after I brought him home. He had terrible separation anxiety, which made complete sense, given his situation. He wouldn't let me out of his sight and if I went anywhere without him, he cried and howled until I came back, regardless of how long I was gone. He and the dogs bonded, it was much quicker with Teddy than Ady, which we expected. He has gained weight and is now up to eleven pounds, which is most likely where he will stay. We did genetic testing and he is 49.7% Beagle, 36.1% Chihuahua, 7.4% Cocker Spaniel, and 6.8% Super Mutt. He definitely presents as a Beagle, no question, but if you ask me, I think he is 100% Super Mutt!

We only had one scare with him, and that was when I took him to get neutered. Long story short, he almost died on the operating table. Basically his breathing fell off and once that was stable and they were going to proceed, his heart essentially stopped. They gave him emergency meds to get it going again and made a wonderful decision to abort the surgery altogether. They think he had a bad reaction to the anesthesia. So Buddy will stay intact, after everything he did to survive in the wilderness after being dumped by some heartless monster, I sure as hell wasn't going to kill him with an unnecessary surgery. 

Buddy and Teddy play as if they are the same size, even though Ted has about ninety pounds on him. Buddy grooms Teddy constantly, sometimes too much for Ted's liking. He and Ady are becoming closer now that we don't crate Buddy anymore. They have the run of the house together during the day, and Ady has never once acted aggressive toward him. Buddy loves to hunt in the yard for anything he can catch a scent on. I keep him on a leash though, due to the way people drive on our road and for fear that he will jump a rabbit and I'll never see him again. Occasionally, Buddy gets nasty with Ted, but I think that's because he wasn't neutered and they are both males trying to be in charge. But we all know that Ady is really the one in charge around here, and neither of the boys ever mess with her.

Ady, Buddy, and Teddy.

And if you are wondering if Buddy ever grew on Chance, all you have to do is see them together. Chance is obsessed. He wants to pick Buddy up and hold him all the time, whether Buddy wants him to or not. And a year later, Chance still calls him "Steve".

Chance and Buddy on day four. 

Buddy is my best little friend.  I still see how grateful he is every time he looks at me. But I wish I could get him to understand that I am equally as grateful that he found his way to me that day. I have had dogs all my life and I have loved every one of them deeply, no question, including Ady and Teddy. But there is just something different about Buddy. He's got a huge personality, he's so expressive, and he is very affectionate. I never thought I could love a dog this much, but I do, and I make sure to tell him, every single night as he's falling asleep on my chest.

2021, The Year I Almost Drowned

 

It's the time of year that many of us take some time to reflect back on the year that was, and think about the things that brought us joy, the times we struggled, and how we ended up where we did when it was all said and done.

I've had a few weeks off work to ponder many things, and while we are only a few days into the new year, I feel like I have to set my intentions right now. I'm not going to lie, it's not an easy thing to do when I don't even know what direction I am going. It's even harder to look to the future after having what was undoubtedly one of the most difficult years I have had in a long time. 

I have a tendency to get scared when good things are coming my way. I live with the idea that the other shoe will inevitably drop. Blame it on anxiety, blame it on the occurrences of this happening throughout my life, blame it on self-sabotage, or blame it on a multitude of other ridiculous thoughts that run through my mind. The fact of the matter is, I get scared regardless of where I place the blame.

I rolled into 2021 knowing that there were going to be some significant challenges, but I didn't know it would be a year that could have easily sunk me, and almost did. I was starting a new job in a new career field after twenty-five years doing something else. I was designing and building a program from the ground up, learning about event planning, logistics, talking to loads of people I didn't know and making big asks of them, calling state agencies all over the country trying to make sense of the many different regulations in each state, scheduling events, canceling events, vetting mentors, vetting hosts, sending invoices, issuing refunds, answering non-stop emails all hours of the day and night, hitting non-stop roadblocks, keeping non-stop frustrations from turning into meltdowns, working alone, almost 1,100 miles from my co-workers, who often met face-to-face, and working for a minimal salary. 

Like I said, challenges. Add a completely unexpected addition to our family with the cutest dog on the planet, who just happens to have some challenges of his own, and we have ourselves a real party. 

Buddy, the little lost dog who stole my heart.

I believed in the mission that was my job, at least initially. It was only six months earlier that I was trying to figure out how I could start a non-profit to build out workshops to teach people what it meant to be a hunter. It was only six hours before I was offered the job, that I was sitting in a deer blind after mentoring a new hunter the night before, daydreaming of a way to turn what I was doing into a career. Imagine my shock when I was given the chance to do just that, that very same day. I kept trying to figure out if there was another shoe and what may cause it to drop, but finally, I just decided to take my chances and accept the position. 

Without going into many details or disparaging anyone for why I walked away from what I thought was my dream job, I will just say this; it simply wasn't the right fit for me, for a multitude of reasons.

I surprisingly made that realization early in the year, specifically after learning that the idea of a non-profit model, grant applications, eliminating barriers, and truly making the program accessible for "everyone", had shifted to a "pay" model, one I wasn't comfortable with, nor believed was right. I struggled to plead my case in a way that would change my employer's mind, after all, this was new to all of us, we truly were building the airplane while we were flying it, as one of my co-workers would always say. I just knew that in the pit of my stomach, I felt uncomfortable. Turns out, that feeling would grow as time progressed, and take me down a road I had never travelled and never want to travel again. 

If you know me very well at all, I think it's fairly easy to see that I have a passion for taking new hunters to the woods. I have said many times that I feel like I owe the outdoors so much for what it has given me in the way of  helping me heal from years of trauma, in building me back up to the very best version of myself, and for giving me a purpose in this life I never would have imagined. I have also said many times, both privately and publicly, that I will take anyone hunting if they genuinely want to go. No strings attached. 

Colby, waiting for a whitetail

However, the new found "strings" that were attached to doing so as part of my job, caused me the most anguish. This was the proverbial shoe that was dropping and I couldn't stop it. 

Imposter syndrome is when you are afraid that people are going to find out that you are a fraud, like you don't really know what you're doing, and you got to where you are by dumb luck. I have talked about suffering from imposter syndrome in the past, but this was something different, this was real.

I started having trouble sleeping back in May. It wasn't due to the stress of building a worthy education curriculum, or trying to find gracious landowners who would host us for events so I could continue to schedule into the fall and winter seasons. I mean, it could have been due to those things, but it wasn't, those things were just part of the job. This was way more personal than that. It was because I really was a fraud. I was promoting something that I didn't believe in. I was selling my soul for $375 a week salary, and it was killing me on the inside.

I read a post on Instagram recently, it was from one of those self-care type pages I follow, and it was a picture showing a list of things that could indicate you are depressed. After all of the things I have dealt with in my life, I never once considered myself depressed. Anxious, yes, depressed, never. At least not until that moment, or so the list suggested. It mentioned things like withdrawing from friends and family, loss of interest in things you enjoy, change in sleep patterns, re-watching the same movies or television shows over and over because they bring comfort, etc. I can honestly say I could put a big green check mark next to all of those I just listed.

I stopped answering phone calls from friends, I never wanted to leave the house, I stopped taking care of myself, I didn't go hiking, I didn't go fishing, I didn't work out, I barely even hunted this year. I feel like I have a personal relationship with Paul and Prue from The Great British Baking Show due to how many times I had the same episodes playing in the background while I worked. I was so consumed with my job and how conflicted I was about how that job was making me feel, that I didn't know what to do with myself. I could see what was happening to me, but for whatever reason I couldn't pull myself out of it. 

The weird part of it all, is that as a result, I worked even harder, because I thought if I did my job well enough, if I gave the attendees that very best experience possible and sent them home feeling like their lives had changed in a significant way, it would justify me sticking it out. It would help me look past the intense feelings of guilt I had every time I posted a new event that, due to the price tag, was alienating the very people I thought I would be helping when I signed on for this gig. My hard work didn't justify a damn thing, it just made me more resentful.

I recorded a handful of podcasts this year that I refuse to listen to, because while on them, I spent a good portion of time talking about how great these events were and why people should attend. Don't get me wrong the events were in fact great experiences, but that wasn't where the issue was for me. The last podcast I recorded, I specifically asked the host if we could NOT talk about my job or what I do for a living.  I just couldn't stomach talking about it anymore. She was gracious enough to have me on the podcast anyway and we ended up having a discussion that was way more meaningful to me in the big picture.

I worked every day during my early October hunting trip to Wyoming with Chance, and believe me, he is still pissed about that and he has every right to be. I'm pissed that I did it. That is supposed to be our time, but I responded to every email, every voicemail, sent invoices, and gave updates on Slack, rather than completely "checking out" the way I should have. I needed that break, and I didn't take advantage of it, I regret that. 

By the time I made my way to Montana, the first week of November, I made a decision that I was going to check out this time, because at that point I had already decided I was going to quit my job. I debated going to Montana at all, Chance had been laid off and my miniscule salary did very little to keep us afloat. Chance insisted I go, I think by then he realized I was at my breaking point and seeing a few of my Montana friends may do me some good. I barely had the money to drive to Montana in the first place and once there, I was sleeping in my truck, eating snacks for my meals, and praying I had enough money to get back to Indiana. 

Eastern Montana block management area, November 3rd, 2021 

Most all of my friends canceled their trip to Eastern Montana that week, due to life events that couldn't be avoided, so I was alone for much of the three days I spent there, chasing mule deer. I was insanely disappointed the plans had fallen apart, but the time alone gave me the clarity and the courage I needed to walk away from something that I was never going to agree with, no matter how hard I tried. 

So that's what I did. But first, I worked extremely hard to get everything ready for the remaining events. I had poured everything I had into making these experiences the best they could be for people who dished out a ton of money to attend. I may not have liked what I was doing, but I was still going to do it well. I didn't attend the December events after learning my dad was having some health issues, but I had every intention of going to both of them, I was committed to working until the end. I prepared everything for the January events so all anyone had to do was show up, I also made and submitted notes on how to finish the last few tasks hanging out there. There were a few challenges that would have needed to be handled for one of the camps, but it could be done. In the end, I was unable to complete my commitment of staying through December 31st, but that was not my choice. 

So it's over. The other shoe dropped, I picked them both up, slipped them on, and walked away.  

I have no idea what is next. As I sit here I am awaiting a phone call to tell me whether or not I was chosen for a position with a non-profit organization here in Indiana. I want the job, I really do. I didn't meet the requirements that were listed on the job description, but I applied anyway. I figured after the hurdles I have overcome over that last year, I could battle through and do this job very well. I am one of three finalists, but even if I don't get the call I am hoping for, it's not going to crush me. I did the very best I could do, I'm proud of that. 

I also did the very best I could do for the other employer. I drank from a firehouse for about twelve months and while I almost drowned, I resurfaced at just the right time. 

My intentions are pretty simple moving forward into 2022 and beyond. I will always stick to what I believe in, regardless of what opportunities I may lose along the way. I will make sure I am compensated equal to what I am worth, I know my value and I will never work for pennies on "good faith" ever again. I will care for myself, and get back to doing the things I love. I will give my family my undivided attention when I am "off the clock", and trust me, there will be a clock. I'll continue to take new hunters to the woods, and there will never be strings (or a price tag) attached.

A friend recently told me that he had hopes that after I have time to reflect on this last year, that I would find there was a "net gain", rather than a "net loss". I realize that there was indeed a net gain, I learned so much about so many things, and I have come to the conclusion that all of the knowledge I am walking into 2022 with, will help me succeed in whatever I decide to do next. I also met some amazing humans at our events, and I was incredibly fortunate to join some of them on their very first hunt. Those relationships and those memories made the hardest parts of the last year, just a little bit easier. 

To those folks, I say thank you and I hope to see you in the woods again someday.  

My last event, Wisconsin, Oct. 2021

 

The (Hunting) Social Dilemma

An eastern Montana sunrise on public land

I hesitated even addressing this whole idea that is being promoted by Montana hunter Matt Rinella, regarding his opinion that if you are a hunter and you are on social media talking about hunting, you are in fact ruining hunting. But I happen to be a hunter and I happen to be fairly active on social media, so I felt like my opinion on the matter holds just as much weight as his (which let’s be honest here, neither his or mine holds much weight at all, in the big picture).

If the name Rinella sounds familiar, that’s because Matt is one of two brothers to outdoor media mogul and author, Steven Rinella, of MeatEater fame. It is a strange situation with these two Montana transplants, as they are on very opposite ends of the spectrum on making hunting a public spectacle, and even more split on the idea of financial gain one may get from the act of hunting. I have met both brothers, they are very different on the surface, but it is clear when you listen to them have a conversation on Steve’s podcast, they are certainly cut from the same cloth. So how did they end up with such polarizing viewpoints on this issue? I don’t have the slightest damn idea, and I am not in a position to call them up and ask. It’s a peculiar family dynamic though, that is for sure, and also none of my business.

I met Steve Rinella at a Live MeatEater Podcast
recording in 2018.

What I can tell you is why I have a very different viewpoint from Matt entirely, and I can’t even say that my take on hunting in the public eye matches with Steve, either. What I am about to describe is simply my experience as a hunter who shares their experiences in a space for both acquaintances and strangers alike to see, to judge, to criticize, and at times, even troll. 

I should start by pointing out that Matt repeatedly uses the word “influencer” both in his article “Unfollowing Hunting Social Media Will Make Hunting Better”, and while defending his opinion on the Blood Origins Podcast he recently recorded which was released on November 22nd. I am not a social media influencer, and I don’t necessarily know what makes someone qualify for that title, but I know I don’t. However, he also repeatedly grouped anyone who hunted and posted about hunting on social media into the same destructive, evil group, so that is where I come in. 

If you have read the article or listened to the Blood Origins episode, you probably had some of the same thoughts I did, specifically “Dude pull it together for crying out loud, you’re off the rails.” You may have also been like me and really struggled getting through the podcast. I know he will be on an upcoming MeatEater episode where he will address all of this again, and while I bet it will be highly entertaining in some regards, I don’t think I can go down that road twice. But I will give my thoughts on the article itself, in the order that he makes his arguments as it is written.

The first point Matt attempts to make is pertaining to hunter numbers, hunter recruitment and how more hunters are making public land so overcrowded that in his mind, it’s “no longer worth it”. I am going to pass on the subject of new hunters in the field and his take on hunter recruitment, because if you know me, you know that my passion lies in teaching people how to hunt. Plus that fight has already taken place earlier this year, via a few different articles, and it’s a whole different subject than this social media argument. 

Teaching the daughter of a friend of mine firearm safety in my garage a few months ago.

But I will say this, when Matt talks about the public land that he hunts being overcrowded, he is not at all considering public land everywhere else in the country. He fails to recognize that he comes across very selfish and almost entitled when he constantly complains about seeing trucks at the trailhead. Has he forgotten where he came from? East of the Mississippi is an entirely different planet when it comes to the amount of public land available compared to the west, and specifically, Montana. He has more than we in the east could ever dream of. He is in his little bubble, which is a theme that carries throughout his opinion piece. 

Matt blames the “influencers'' on hunting social media for the increase of hunter numbers on already crowded public land. As I mentioned, I am not an "influencer", and to be honest, I'd have to go look to even know how many Instagram followers I have, but I will absolutely encourage someone to hunt if they have a genuine interest in learning. Not only will I encourage them, but if they are in my local area, I will take them out and teach them myself. I ask for nothing in return, except for them to be a good example of an ethical hunter moving forward.

As a side note, if I showed the list Matt cited in his essay, of the top 250 Instagram hunting influencers (https://blog.feedspot.com/hunting_instagram_influencers/) to a random selection of 1,000 hunters in my home state of Indiana, there is an excellent chance that 99% of those asked wouldn't know who any of those influencers are, including his brother Steve. So there needs to be a realization on Matt's part that just because this is the world he knows, his "bubble" if you will, whether by default because he is a Rinella, or because he associates with a lot of folks in the industry (both paid and volunteer), his accusations of those who share their hunting escapades on social media as the people who are "ruining hunting", would likely fall on deaf ears for vast majority of hunters in the U.S., outside of about six states in the west.

Matt addresses the concept that if you are a hunter who posts on social media calling yourself a conservationist, you are essentially a liar. He claims that you are actually doing more damage than good in the big picture. The fact that you are posting about hunting on public land, you are in turn, inviting thousands of other hunters into that very space and therefore you are ruining the resource. That’s a stretch in my opinion. I always post about my hunts and the general area I am hunting. I can honestly say that In the last six years that I have been doing so, I have seen zero increase of hunters where I hunt. I am speaking specifically to public land in southeast Wyoming and in eastern Montana, so obviously my viewpoints are quite limited, but at the same time, so are his. 

And while I am no Doug Duren (whom I greatly respect, met, and became friends with on social media, so therefore he must also be the enemy in this scenario), I absolutely like to think I am making a positive contribution to conservation. While I can’t be everywhere I would like to be for fence pulling events, or counting animals for game and fish agencies, I do what I can by contributing to the non-profits who are out there doing the work and volunteering locally to teach others about the importance of conservation and how they can also get involved. 

Rinella goes on to claim that social media has severely damaged our reputation among non-hunters, as well as reduced hunting opportunities. I am going to offer a big “hold up, wait a minute”, right here with the reputation part of that claim, because in my personal experience, that couldn’t be further from the truth. The notion that social media has severely damaged our reputation among non-hunters in bunk. Anti-hunters, maybe, because they are just looking for a reason, but as far as non-hunters in general, I don't think so. I have had many non-hunters reach out to me and confess that they feel differently about hunting due to how I talk about it on my social media pages. They feel that before reading my thoughts on hunting, they didn't fully understand all of the work or thoughtfulness that went into hunting, or they always thought of hunters as people who just like to kill things, with no real moral code. I even had one woman tell me that the only reason she is a non-hunter rather than an anti-hunter, is because she follows me and appreciates my passion for not just the act of hunting, but also for the animals I hunt. So, I staunchly disagree with this idea from my personal perspective.

The next claim, if you are following along in sequence, is that as hunters who kill multiple animals, we are seen by the non-hunting public as full of greed and we don’t believe these animals are a valued resource. Again, he is blaming only the hunting “influencers'' for this, but I myself kill multiple animals every year, if I’m lucky, and if anyone wants to question what I do with the meat, I will tell them. I eat it. Not only do I eat it, but I eat a lot of it. In our household, my partner, Chance, and I may put anywhere from five to nine deer in the freezer on a good year, between hunting in Indiana, Wyoming, and Montana. We eat venison four to five nights a week, we share it with friends and none of it goes to waste. 

Meat from my Montana mule deer doe I shot on public land this fall.

I like to think I surround myself with solid, ethical hunters and I can tell you that none of the hunters I know take animals that they don’t fully intend on utilizing to the fullest. And in the instance that I am introduced to someone who likes to hunt but doesn’t enjoy the meat, I make every effort to take that meat off their hands for our own freezer, or for someone in need. I can see where, if you didn’t know any better, there could be an assumption that TV personalities who kill two or three elk and a handful of deer every fall couldn’t possibly eat all of that meat, or even need it. But Matt knows as well as I do, that those “personalities” are sharing that meat with their crews, either the guys who are filming or the guys back at the office who work in post production. So again, that feels like a stretch to accuse hunters of waste in that manner.

Matt then goes on to say that he believes that hunting social media is bad for public access. This one doesn't resonate with me at all. Of all the landowners I have talked to in my ten years of being a hunter, none have ever told me that they wouldn’t give permission because social media made their land too valuable. What they did tell me, and I imagine this is the case for many private landowners across the country, is that disrespectful people are what made them stop giving permission. Hunters who left gates open that they should have closed behind them, hunters who shot things they didn’t have permission to shoot, hunters who stepped over property boundaries, causing disputes between neighbors, hunters who left garbage, hunters who didn’t remove tree stand or blinds in a timely manner, and a plethora of other reasons. 

Hunting leases have been a thing for ages, especially in states with minimal public land opportunities, dense hunting populations, and prime hunting properties that are owned by people with no interest or knowledge of hunting. All it takes is a broker to reach out and wave a price in front of their nose and they are in. Social media didn’t cause this, irresponsible hunters who once had permission but then screwed it up for the rest of us is what caused landowners to stop granting permission. For the others, it's simply dollars and cents. 

The last two things I am going to address are the two opinions of Matt’s that really irritated me the most, his claim that private land hunters deceive the new or non-hunting public because it’s like shooting domesticated livestock, and that overall, hunters on social media are blatantly dishonest. Believe me, this is just as exhausting for me to write, as it is for you to read it, but we are nearing the end, I promise.

I hunt private land in Indiana. Some of it is farmland owned by my partner’s father, which offers mediocre deer hunting at best, some of it is land that the landowners contacted me and asked me if I would be interested in hunting. Yes, you heard that right, lightning struck twice, and I jumped at the opportunity both times. So I have to ask, if I go out and hunt this private land that is surrounded by timber on all of the neighboring private properties, and I happen to kill an incredible, mature buck that was passing through, on absolute happenstance, am I to believe that by sharing that experience on social media I am deceiving new hunters or non-hunters, by trying to make them believe that that can happen to anybody? Absolutely not. And do you want to know why? Because it CAN happen to anybody. 

I shot this buck in 2020 on the very first sit on a piece of private property I had
 never stepped foot on before that afternoon. It was total happenstance.

The notion that private land hunting is a sham, is disgraceful, and somehow duping everyone, when there is absolutely no way of ever assuring what animal is going to pass through at any given time, is complete and utter bullshit. Unless it is a high fence operation, I don’t believe hunting is a sure thing no matter where you are, public or private, and it is incredibly insulting to those of us that don’t have any other options close to us, other than the private land we have been lucky enough to have permission to hunt. And as far as the people who lease land, at least around here, a small percentage get out and put in food plots or make improvements to those properties, so it is a crap shoot for them as well. Hell, most of them are only able to get out and hunt three or four times a year and even then, they may have to drive three to four hours just to get to their lease. In a state with limited public land, it may be their only option to hunt at all. I guess I’ll just keep on deceiving my social media followers, sorry Matt. 

Lastly, let’s talk about dishonesty. I personally am the first to share when I have screwed up, I mean if you do it enough, it becomes second nature. I’ll tell you that I missed the buck of a lifetime in my first season hunting because I wasn’t paying attention. I will confess that I had to shoot an animal more times than I should have, because I was lazy and didn’t check my rifle when I arrived in Wyoming one year. I always tell you if I fail to fill my tags and why. And most recently, I told everyone who follows my social media pages that I put two bad shots on a deer and lost him. I described my heartache, my frustration, my disappointment. I talked about my inability to sleep that night due to the dreams I was having about finding him, but being jarred awake each time just as I walked up on him. I talked about how I searched for him for fifteen hours over three days. I also talked about how I won’t hunt another buck this year because I know I wounded that one, and that was my one buck tag.

These bone fragments are all I found of the deer I lost two weeks ago.

My social media is not a highlight reel, whether I am posting about hunting or life in general. Being guilty by association, according to Matt, because some folks only show the positive outcome, is a broadly false accusation directed toward many of us, on his part. 

Look, I have gained some of the truest friends I could ever ask for, through social media, Nicole, SJ, I see you. I have had long, meaningful phone conversations with people I have never met in person, because we met on social media, I’m looking at you Travis Thompson. I randomly meet people for coffee as they are passing through my town, Amy, let’s do that again. I have driven across the country to sleep in the mountains and hunt with complete strangers, because of social media. I have been contacted by new hunters who just need some encouragement, because of social media. I have had writing opportunities put in front of me from people who said I talk about hunting in a way they have never heard anyone else talk about it before, and that meant something to them. I have had vegans and vegetarians reach out and thank me for attaching emotion and respect to the act of hunting, because they believed all hunters were simply cold-blooded killers that killed just for fun. 

The inaugural Deer Camp. I drove solo from Indiana to central Montana in 
2018 to camp and hunt with 17 women I never met. I was invited through social media.

Now I will tell you what I haven’t gained from social media, because these are the things Matt claims drives hunters who post on social media. I haven’t gained any sponsorships. I have never been offered free gear by a company, not once, not ever. I do not make money from posting about hunting on social media. If anything I have lost money, due to my relationship with hunting, and a substantial amount at that. If anyone wants to bring up my most recent stint of employment in the “industry”, I think it's safe to say that my entire yearly salary of barely $18.5k would be a good indicator that I'm not posting about hunting to social media to get rich. This last year has been a struggle like no other, so tell me again what my motivations are?

Matt’s opinion is his own, as is mine, and let’s tell it like it is, there are some self-serving, shitty people on social media who really only care about making money. They will lie, cheat and steal to do so. There are some whose motivations are skewed. They post for the ‘Gram and for the fame they hope they might achieve someday. But to cast that negative light on all hunters who post to their social media accounts, regarding their hunting experiences or the latest tag they filled, pictures included, is wrong and irresponsible.

But there are also a lot of amazing, honest, good people, who just like to share their experiences in the hopes that they connect with other folks who may be going through the same things in life, or in their hunting journey. I personally choose to follow real people, mostly those with jobs having nothing to do with the hunting industry. Those people aren’t selling anything, they are not out to gain social media fame or notoriety, they hunt when they can, and they are seeking knowledge from friends. They fess up to their mistakes, because they want to help someone else realize that shit really does happen to all of us and how we learn from it is what matters the most, not how many likes or followers we gain or lose because of it.

Turkey hunting on public land this last spring in Idaho.

I will keep hunting and I will keep sharing the whole damn thing on social media, you can take it or you can leave it, I really don’t care either way. But that’s just my opinion. 

Would I continue hunting, fishing, mentoring and everything the outdoors has to offer just as passionately as I do right now, without social media to share it all to? You bet your ass I would, and you know what, I wouldn’t be destroying hunting either way.

Mentoring: More Than Just A Morning in the Woods

There is a feeling one gets when they see someone fulfill a lifelong dream, or even a goal that they have been working toward for relatively short amount of time. The feeling is hard to describe, but plainly put, it’s a mix of immense pride and sheer happiness. Parents feel this when their children accomplish something, spouses feel this when their partner receives that promotion at work, and if you’re like me, you may feel this when you witness a new hunter take their first animal. 

I have had the privilege of taking several folks to the field over the past few years for their first hunt, and have experienced the “feeling” I described above, a handful of times. It could be that I simply enjoy watching other people succeed, but there is also a feeling of satisfaction that is a little self-serving at the same time. But not how you may think, this isn’t about being able to run to social media and proclaim “look what I did for so-and-so”, this goes so much deeper than anyone knowing, or even caring, that I sat in the woods with someone. 

Cianni showing off her first turkey at age 10

If you have ever gone on a journey with someone who truly wants to accomplish the taking of their first animal, but they are overwhelmed with apprehension or self-doubt, you probably understand where I am going with this. If you have never participated in the journey of a new hunter, I highly recommend it and I am happy to explain how it could completely change your relationship with hunting. 

There has been an ongoing, sometimes tumultuous discussion in a portion of the hunting community related to getting new hunters in the field. This isn’t about that, this isn’t about statistics, it isn’t about trailheads being full of pick-ups trucks, or someone taking your “spot”. This is about changing a person’s life by simply taking the time to help them learn a new skill, to encourage them, and to give them the confidence they need to continue their journey as a hunter, long after you walk away from each other. 

I think we should all make the effort to take someone new to the woods, field, or duck blind, if we are able to do so. The reason I feel that way is because I have experienced first hand the full range of emotions while watching a new hunter take it all in. There is nothing more rewarding than knowing that the time and effort you volunteered to someone, enabled them to be confident and potentially successful in a space that was so foreign to them in the beginning. You have passed on something to them that you cannot place a value on, nor is it anything that anyone can take away from them. 

But understand this; it is work, it is time consuming, and it needs to be done the right way.

If you know me, you have probably heard me say that I will take anyone hunting that genuinely has an interest in going. And that is the truth. Being a Hunter Education instructor, I am a little biased, but I want my new hunters to go through hunter education before I start mentoring them. It gives me the piece of mind that they are not only serious about this venture, but I feel safer knowing they have had their basic firearm safety course before they get in front of me with a rifle or shotgun. 

Noah with his first Whitetail.

When you agree to spend time with a potential new hunter, it goes beyond teaching them how to shoot at a target or spending a morning with them in a blind. There needs to be thorough discussions about why they want to be a hunter, about ethical decisions and what that even means. You should make sure they understand the laws and the consequences of violating those laws, and without a doubt, there needs to be a discussion about death and dying, prior to ever placing a firearm in their hands.

It is my experience that emotion is a big part of a new hunter committing to killing a living thing, and it should be. You cannot take back what you have done after you pull the trigger or let that arrow fly. You have fully and completely committed to ending a life, and you need to be in the right place mentally and emotionally, to be okay with that. 

By taking the time to have these discussions and really doing a deep dive into this person's motivation, you make a connection and develop a relationship that allows them to trust you and feel comfortable that you are going to steer them in the right direction. This isn’t a task that can be taken lightly and I have to wonder if that’s why more people shy away from it, than not.

Most of the people that I spend time teaching on a personal level are youth, although I have taken a few adults out for their first hunt. For my current job, I work specifically with adults, but for the purposes I am writing about, I’m going to stick with what I do on my own time. I have taken kids as young as eight to the woods and I have taken grown women to the woods who have their own children at home. Obviously, you approach people completely differently depending on their maturity and what they are capable of at that moment. 

Despite the uncertainty in her face, Ava loved going fishing this summer!

Nonetheless, they are all introduced to hunting the same way when we start out. We sit in my garage and have “the talk”. I remind them; boy, girl, man or woman, that death is final, and if they have any apprehensions about killing something, we need to take a step back and take a little more time until they are comfortable with that. If they assure me they fully understand the consequences of pulling the trigger, we move on. 

I always go over firearm safety at nauseum, almost to the point that they could go home and confidently teach it to their own family members, and I won’t ever apologize for my emphasis on that. We also talk in-depth, about shot placement, using diagrams and targets that are stuck to our garage freezer, but offer a great visual to the aspiring hunter. If you are a hunter, you will inevitably make a bad shot on an animal at some point, it happens, and you will never forget it. However, the more education you have to prevent it from happening, the more confident you will be when you pull your rifle or bow up on an animal in the heat of the moment. 

If the new hunter kills an animal, I walk through the field dressing or cleaning of that animal with them. For some people, the idea of this process can be imagined to be as traumatic as the initial killing of the animal. That being said, I have found that when it really comes down to it, folks get in a zone when it comes to dealing with the animal after the initial shock that they killed it. I think the realization kicks in that the animal is now their responsibility, and they take complete  ownership of that, out of respect for the animal itself.  

Cianni learning how to skin a squirrel.

Generally, the parents of the kids I am taking out are present during the pre-hunt discussions, and for good reason. Hunting used to be something that was passed down from generations past, but it’s just not happening anymore, for a variety of reasons. I want to make sure these parents know exactly what I am teaching their children and why. It offers a sense of comfort for the parents that I care about their kids and I will do everything within my power to keep them safe. Plus, when their kids come home after a hunt, they can have discussions with them about how they are feeling and what they are thinking, especially if that child killed an animal. 

Look, even as a forty-five-year-old woman, I have to take some time to reflect on my feelings after I have shot and killed an animal, regardless if it is a squirrel that weighs two pounds, or a mule deer that weighs two-hundred pounds. The act of killing brings about powerful emotions and I fully believe in talking about those emotions after the fact. This doesn’t make anyone any less of a hunter, or weak in any way, it just makes us human. 

Committing to being a mentor for a new hunter is something that you need to be sure about, you need to understand that you are possibly the only person who is giving them the opportunity to learn the right way to do this, and if you make it a bad experience for them, simply because it’s more work than you thought it would be, you are taking that opportunity right back away from them. That’s on you and whether it is a child or an adult, it's shameful. 

I just reached out this week to a few of my local young people who I have taken out hunting the last year or two, to see if they would like to go again this year. I have one local family that I have taken four of the six kids, ages ranging from five to eighteen, either hunting, fishing or both, and I will keep doing it as long as they have an interest in going. 

Sitting with Ty on his first deer hunt, in 2020.

Mentoring to me isn’t a “one and done” situation. It is my opinion that if someone wants to learn how to hunt, you should try to give them the opportunity to hunt as many different species that your space allows. They may think they want to deer hunt, but realize after chasing turkeys a few times, that deer hunting isn’t for them and they are all about spring birds, and that is okay. It’s about answering their questions outside of hunting season, or sharing articles with them so that they may learn a new skill, or learn more about conservation. 

The biggest thing I hope people take away from what I have learned from mentoring new hunters is that you are taking responsibility for not only the way this person will progress ethically as a hunter, but you are walking a path with them that includes some heavy topics like death, firearms, the law, utilization of game meat, and how they represent all of us as hunters, in the future. You are giving them the tools to become self-sufficient and to potentially pass those tools onto someone else down the road. Your time and effort are absolutely worth it.

Obviously, this is a passion for me and it isn’t that for everyone. Hunting has changed for me in the last few years, and I attribute that to mentoring. I used to be obsessed with getting out there, being alone with my thoughts, and filling my tags. I would set aside everything else in my life for as long as necessary to do that. These days, I am sitting beside new hunters more than I am sitting alone and hunting for myself, and I’m enjoying every minute of it. 

Colby and I waiting on some whitetail, in 2019.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love my time alone in the woods, but seeing someone light up with excitement during their first hunt, or witnessing firsthand the moment they take their first animal, will always be better than my best day hunting alone.