Evolution of a Bow Hunter: Part 3.

The next year I set my sights higher and decided that I was going to shoot a buck no matter what.  That season I did most of my hunting around the farm.  There were quite a few deer around and quite a few bucks.  That year a friend of mine also gave me one of his old trail cameras.  This was a high tech flash kind that used a 6 V battery. Looking back at those old trail cam pics and you certainly appreciate how technology has advanced. Geesh.

That summer while waiting for hunting season I got the opportunity to work for the FM RedHawks. For those of you who do not know they are a minor league baseball team based in Fargo, North Dakota. I'm not sure how I got the gig. Someone must've given someone my name and I got a call one day for an interview. I remember being as nervous as a dog shitting tacks because the interview was with the general manager. But he was as cool as the other side of the pillow. There was nothing to be nervous about. The interview about my education and background lasted about ten minutes. The next twenty minutes was a discussion about baseball, Minnesota Twins and RedHawks. Good stuff. I remember it was raining that day so he had me watch the radar and make a judgment call to pull the tarp or not. I said, "Play ball!"

I believe I went to most of the home games that summer. Or at least three quarters of the home games. A lot of travel time and a lot of in the chair time. But it was a great time. I did that for two summers. I suppose I should tell you what I did for them. I would interview players and coaches and write up some stories to put in their game day programs. I would sit up in the press box and soak it all in while drinking free Mountain Dew. I had conversations with legendary Los Angeles Dodger Maury Wills. I was living the dream.

I believe that fall I went bow hunting around 30 times and I believe I saw deer every time. I used to keep track of these type of things. I was mostly just hunting north of the house or on an abandoned farmyard southwest about 2 miles.  While hunting that year I had many firsts.  The first thing that I saw that I had never seen before was a droptine buck.  It was at the old farmyard southwest of our farm.  He wasn't that big but the two other bachelors he was with were enormous.  A friend of mine got one of them and he is on his wall.  The night I encountered them I had a chance to shoot all of them.  The only problem was the farmyard is right next to a road, within 20 yards.  And wouldn't you it, right when they were coming into range a vehicle had to drive by.  I hunted in that spot for the next two weeks and never saw them again. Jerks.

During those two weeks I also saw for the first time while hunting with a bow, a coyote.  I remember there were a couple of does in front of me and all of a sudden they started looking at me.  But I could tell they were not looking at me, it was something behind me. After a while I noticed to my side, within 15 yards Mr. Wile E. Coyote.  Talk about an adrenaline rush.  I knew he wasn't going to attack me but still seeing a predator that close is pretty neat. He circled around me until he got a good whiff and he was off like a prom dress.

That fall I also hunted in another shelter belt to the northeast which I call Herman's belt. This brings me to my last of my firsts. Earlier that summer while watching the outdoor channel I saw a guy using a grunt tube that would work for me.  It is like any other grunt tube, but it has a long tube attached to it, so I had it mounted on my crossbow.  So that fall I learned a lot about grunting. I learned when you should start, how long and how loud.  It really depends on the situation, the time of season, the number of deer around and if you can do it without being detected.  That year I probably scared more deer away grunting than I actually attracted, but I guess that is how you learn.  The first time I ever had a buck grunt back at me was in Herman's.  There were deer a couple of hundred yards away in a cornfield that I was trying to bring in.  All of a sudden behind me within 5 yards I heard a buck grunt at me.  It scared the crap out of me because I didn't expect it behind me and he was so close.  I jumped when I heard it and of course the little buckaroo hightailed it down the belt going about 40 mph.

Later that year, I believe it was the end of October I was hunting north of the house quite a bit.  I had seen a couple of bucks on the trail cam, nothing to brag about but they were out there.  In that belt I was hunting there was also quite a few rubs and scrapes, always a good sign.  The night I shot my first buck, I remember it like yesterday.  I was set up next to a couple of trails that intersected in the shelterbelt 80 yards from my bedroom and I was set up right in front of a fresh rub. This night I was not set up in a pop-up blind, I just had camouflaged burlap wrapped around me.

 There was quite a few does eating in the bean field to the north of me.  I knew it wouldn't be long and they would be going for a drink at the artesian well that was behind me to the south about 150 yards.  All of a sudden they started working their way towards me, about 13 does.  You might think it is good to have that many deer around but it is just the opposite when you are sitting on the ground.  Too many eyes, especially the older does that tend to bust you.  But that night they were more concerned about the twitterpated buck behind them.  As the skinheads filed by me I could hear a buck to my left grunting and snorting with his head on the ground trailing them.  He was at a pretty good trot and before I knew it he went by my shooting lane by about 10 yards to the east.  So I gave a little grunt and he popped his head up, spun around to the west, walked slowly towards my shooting lane and then he poked his head in the belt looking straight south. He was aiming right at me so all I had was his chest to shoot at, probably under 12 yards. Not a great shot to take but over the summer I had practiced that shot numerous times on 3-D targets. So with that confidence I decided to let him have it.  I saw it enter right above his sternum.  He jumped back and started running across the combined soybean field.  He stopped at about 30 yards and I could tell he was struggling.  It looked like he was coughing.  Then he went on his death run for only about another 30 yards and tipped over.

I waited about half an hour and called up my mom on the cell.  When she got out there she was pretty pumped up and she wanted to track him.  I told her to wait, I would call up my friend Lucas to help find him and field dress him.  But while I was calling him up she had already found the buck.

When we were gutting him we could not find the arrow.  We looked through everything and could not find it.  We thought for sure it would be stuck in him because it wasn't going to make it all away through the other end, that's for sure.  Also I remember when we were taking pictures with him he was the smelliest buck I had ever smelt.  He was really into the rut, he was really twitterpated. After the pictures we brought him to the meat locker and had a couple of celebratory cocktails. 

The next day I went back out to try to find the arrow and it was lying right where he stopped, when it looked like he was coughing.  Anyway, he wasn't the biggest buck but he was my first and I will always remember that.  He is on my wall as we speak.  Thanks to Don B, he did the European mount for me.

The next year's hunting season was pretty slow.  There wasn't much for deer out in my territory for some reason.  So that year I did a lot of hunting down on the tree farm.  I believe I hunted just about every inch of the tree farm that year.  I got to know the place pretty well. I got to know the habits of the deer and could probably name most of them because I saw them so often. 

That year I had a couple disappointments down on the tree farm.  I remember one time I grunted a buck across the alfalfa field.  He was coming right into me but that is when my ride decided to pick me up a little early. He was a doozy. I passed up quite a few shots down there that year.  And I remember it was quite cold also that year.  But in January I decided to give it a whirl again. I think it was the last weekend. This time I brought my mom and her camera which had video. That was high-tech then. It was so cold we decided to hunt from the small tower which also had the feeder in front of it.  I knew it would only be a matter of time before the deer were going to check out the feeder and it didn't take long.  There had to be around 15 deer mingling around in front of it so I decided to take the biggest doe I could see.  It was about a 30 yard shot and she ran about 100 yards and tipped over in the old riverbed.  Not a very exciting story but it is the first time that I caught a hunt on video.

Earlier that spring I also got my first turkey tag.  I really didn't get into turkey hunting that much.  I don't know why but turkeys don't turn my crank, but it is still fun to get out of the house and into the woods. Turkeys are jerks.

I believe the next year I did not get anything while hunting.  I'm pretty sure that might've been the year I was in the hospital for a couple of months in the fall. Not very good timing on my part, hunting seasons is priority.

I should've wrote this next part of my story right when it happened, or at least jotted down some notes.  That is when I think I thought of this story below titled, "14 Years."  It doesn't have to do anything with hunting, but you will see for yourself.  I wrote it when I got out of the hospital. (This is when my blogging started.)

14 years

            I am a first timer at this blogging stuff so here it goes.  A couple weeks ago I met someone and they asked me what my story was.  Of course they started out asking how I ended up in a wheelchair.  I told them the shortened, abbreviated story because of course I was in a bar.  Anyway when I got done with my history they asked when it happened to me and I said when I was around 15 years old.  Then they asked me how old I was and I told them 28 year’s old.  Then they told me something that I did not realize, “So you have spent half of your life in and half of your life out of a chair.”  My response was, “I guess.”  The bar patron then asked me how has your life been different?  And that is why I am writing this blog. 

            My first answer to that question is my life is very different.  Besides the obvious differences of living a life in a chair there are countless ways that my life is different behind the scenes.  Which most people cannot even fathom. 

            Then I became to realize that, how do I know that my life is different now than it could be.  There is a lot of hypothetical crap that could’ve happened either way.  I could’ve been a millionaire but I can still be a millionaire.  I could’ve been a famous baseball analyst but I can still be a famous baseball analyst.  I could've had my own hunting show but I think I still could have my own hunting show. The easiest answer I think to that question is I would still be me.  So it is hard to think of how your life could have been different.  Try it sometime, pick out a point in your life and make a decision that changes your life from that point on. Do you think your life would be different or would it be the same?

            Another reason why I’m writing this blog is because I was wondering how many people I have met because I am in a wheelchair.  There are hundreds of people I have met that I know I would have not met otherwise.  Most of the people on Facebook, doctors/nurses and friends I met at college.  Most of the people I have met these last 14 years have become some of my best friends.  Not to knock all the people that I have known all my life but you know what I mean.

            The third reason why I am writing this is that I want to thank everyone who has supported me these last 14 years. 

People who don’t know me, like that barfly always ask me, "How do I do it, how do I live my life?" There are a lot of reasons why I “do it”, live my life as normal as can be.

            The first reason is because I do not know any other way to live my life.  I have been in hospitals numerous times and always see patients who feel sorry for themselves and I would hate myself if I would ever do that.  I can’t stand people who feel sorry for themselves and I do not want anyone to feel sorry for me.  That might seem a little cynical but that is how I feel.  I lived in an apartment with many people with different disabilities and they would never go out of their rooms.  If I did that I would go more nuts.

            The second reason is because of all of the support I have gotten from my family and friends.  You do not know how much that means to me.  Without all of you these last 14 years these could have been the worst 14 years of my life, but I believe they have been the best 14 years of my life.  Thanks.

            That is some pretty serious, deep stuff I just wrote.  It all started when a local idiot in one of my favorite bars asked me a simple question.  Because as most of you know I am a loser magnet.

Peace and chicken grease, Clint.

Now back to the hunting.  The year after my hiatus from hunting there was again not much for deer in my neck of the woods.  So I hunted a lot down on the tree farm again.  In my years of hunting down there I started to notice some areas that seem to get more buck activity than others.  The spot that I now hunt down there most the time is called, "Clint's spot."  It is on the south side of the farm in some tall pines alongside a dirt path. A pinch point. It doesn't look like a good spot, but every time I sit there there's always something coming or going onto the big field.  It is in between the bedding area and feeding area. It is a perfect spot to ambush them while they transition between eating and sleeping. Another good thing about sitting there is the farthest shot would be 15 yards. Nice.

That year I also started doing morning hunts.  I should've started doing this earlier in my career because there is something about hunting in the morning.  I do not know what it is, maybe it is just because it is so quiet most of the time with hunting in the morning.  The only problem is I sometimes think you scare more deer getting into your spot then you would do in an afternoon hunt.

That year like most years down on the tree farm I had a lot of encounters with bucks but somehow I was always in the wrong spot.  So I decided to hit my spot because I knew some type of deer would eventually come by that I wanted to pull the trigger on.  The day I shot my second buck I was in my spot pretty early in the afternoon.  The day before, right in front of me in the swamp, I watched four bucks size each other up for about 45 minutes.  All they did was walk around stiff legged and strut their stuff.  I had a chance to shoot one of them but they would not come in all the way.  He was about 3 yards away from being skewered.  I believe all of them were 4x4's.  Anyway back to the day after.  I hadn't been sitting there long when a doe and two fawns walked by within 10 feet.  As soon as they left I noticed some movement to my right.  It was a little 3 x 3 basket buck that had a limp.  He came right down the path and stood in front of me eating some well-placed crabapples for about 10 minutes and I noticed he was still favoring his front leg.  So I decided to shoot him.  Anyway he was so close, around 7 yards that I shot a little too high but I knew I hit him hard.  He turned and ran through the swamp and I heard him crash about 30 yards away but could not see him.  So I called up my tracker a.k.a. mom and she was on the scene within 30 minutes.  Because I shot him high there was no blood trail so it was going to be a tough track.  But she was determined to find him and went on her way just tracking his actual hoof tracks through the fallen leaves.  I thought she might need some help so I called up Lucas and he was there in no time. But by the time he got there wouldn't you know it, mom had already found him.  He does not have a big rack by any means but he was a big bodied deer.  Kevin the landowner, my sister Shelie and my dad also came down to help celebrate. The Morgan was flowing. It didn't suck.

Lucas and Kevin my gut guys.

Over Thanksgiving in 2008 my cousin Stephanie and my friend Jeremy decided to schedule their wedding and tie the knot in Las Vegas. I knew I wasn't going to miss this. Flying there was out of the question because of my electric wheelchair so I decided to make the 22 hour road trip down there. The decision was easy, but I knew the road trip was going to suck. This was because I was supposed to only be in the chair six hours at a time. But I was going to stretch a little bit. Clint style. So this meant I would have to stay over three nights on the way down.

The first night my dad, mom and I drove a little over six hours and stopped at Spearfish, South Dakota. The next day we drove through the Black Hills a little bit on our way through Casper and down to Rawlins, Wyoming where we stayed the second night. I had never been in this area of the country so it was awesome. I love that area. Seeing antelope and mule deer did not suck. Plus counting the miles of fence line between roads was quite amazing.

Driving from Rawlins through Green River and turning south before getting to Salt Lake City was an awesome stretch of scenery. I had really never seen mountains before. Even though it was foggy going through Park City driving towards Provo the falling rock signs on one side of the highway and the reservoir on the other side was awesomely nerve-racking. Our next stop would be in Fillmore, Utah and this day was Thanksgiving. I believe I had a lettuce salad with water at the motel. We learned that there were no alcohol sales on holidays in that state. Geesh. 

The next day we were headed towards Vegas through some pretty cool territory. The steep upgrades through the rocky cliffs south of St. George are neat. The semis were probably going 15 mph uphill. We were flying by them in the shaggin wagon.

Myself with Stephanie & Jeremy at the Trio.

The desert was pretty much just the desert until you can start to see the tall buildings in Las Vegas. It was a sight to be seen. I bet it is really something to see it at night. But this was about midafternoon when we pulled into the Excalibur Casino. The first thing I needed to when I got there was to eat. And for some reason I was craving a big Mac. Wouldn't you know it they had the McDonald's right in the casino. After that I ventured down to the bar area and surprisingly found all of my relatives and friends. We later named this bar the Trio. This was the gathering spot.

Some of the Enderlin boys on the rooftop reception.

I believe I took a little nap before getting up for that Friday evening. It was a good thing. Because we did stuff and things until late in the evening/morning. I don't remember what time the wedding was on Saturday but most people looked a little bedraggled. Including myself. 

After one day in Vegas.

After the wedding they had the reception on a rooftop and that was good times. I should backtrack a little. I started feeling poorly on the way down to Vegas, actually right before we left but I didn't tell anyone. Like I had stuff in my lungs. Probably pneumonia. But I wasn't going to pass up this trip. Anyway, during the reception I started hacking on something and good thing the groom was right behind me. He slapped me on the back and I finally got something moving. Thank you Swany.

After the reception we decided to head back to the Excalibur. One good thing about Las Vegas is a lot of their taxis are wheelchair accessible. But this does not mean they are the safest things. They do not strap you in. Or at least this crazy bastage taxi driver did not. As he was slamming on the gas and brakes as my head was banging the back window. I was laughing my head off with my parents and sister Shelie in the seat in front of me. Good times.

Once we got back to the casino I believe Cody and I decided to blow our life savings on the slot machines. We even tried poker for a while but with no luck. Even though we did have one lady of the night offer some luck to us. We declined. That was entertaining.

I believe most of the people took off for back home the next day which was Sunday. I believe we took it easy that Sunday or didn't hit it as hard and took off on Monday. I was beat.

On the way home we decided to take a different route. Going north into Utah we decided to go east on interstate I 70 towards Denver. The first day we made it all the way to Richfield, Utah. This was by far my favorite area of the trip. This was like prime elk and mule deer territory. I can see myself living there easily. The next day we woke up and headed east on the interstate through the desolate territory before the Rockies. We needed a little rest stop so we stopped at Ghost Rock historical site. This is where I knew I was sick. I was hacking up not good stuff.

This is me trying to breathe at Ghost Rock.

As we were getting east of Green River, Utah we could see behind us a storm brewing. As we got further into Colorado we found a local radio station and they said to hunker down if traveling. We made it to the exit of Vail when it started to snow. We found a motel and decided to wait out the storm. I kind of felt like Lloyd Christmas except I didn't have a motorbike I had the shaggin wagon and a motorized cart.

When we woke up the next day the interstate was not in good condition. The warning signs were up to chain up your vehicles. Of course we did not have chains but we were from North Dakota and could handle a little compacted snow. It was slow going heading down the interstate towards Denver. I think it took an hour extra. When we could see Denver dad exhaled and said some expletives as he finally took his hands off of the steering wheel. White knuckles happened.

Getting more windshield washer fluid at Breckenridge exit. Making sure this stuff is rated for below freezing. The stuff we got in Utah gelled up going through the pass. It got a little nippy…

We drove through Denver and all the way to North Platte, Nebraska. I believe we only stopped once for lunch. Once we got to North Platte I needed to get to lay down while they went out for supper and had some cocktails. The next day we headed straight north towards Pierre, South Dakota and on to Aberdeen. Somewhere in between there we decided to head all the way home. It was going to be a long day but I knew I wasn't going to get up for least three or four days when I got home. My body needed rest.

Holy shinto that was quite the trip. I don't think I could handle it again. I'm sure I could but I wouldn't want to, I don't think. I beat the hell out of my body but it was well worth it.

I believe I only rested one day and I decided I needed to get to the clinic and check out my lung problem. I got into the Enderlin clinic and my doctor told me after she listened to my lungs, "You do know that they have clinics in Vegas don't you? You dumb head!" I'm pretty sure most of you know who I'm talking about. She is the best. Anyway she ordered some antibiotics or some type of medication for my pneumonia and also gave me a nebulizer with medication. She told me to keep my door closed with a humidifier going and rest, plus don't do anything stupid for least three days. Ha ha. Good stuff. Glad I lived through it.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

Part 4 coming soon…

Evolution of a Bow Hunter: Part 2.

The next thing I remember was staring at the ceiling in the hospital bed, but that was a month later. I remember a couple of things in the hospital after waking up but it is pretty blurry still. I had a breathing tube going down my throat so I could not talk. I really didn’t realize what was going on until the second month in the hospital. All I knew was that I could not move my legs and I could not move my hands and fingers.

I don’t really remember talking to any doctors until one day they said they are going to have a conference and they wanted family members to be there. I’m sure everyone knew a lot more than I did and they all knew what my diagnosis was going to be. I remember being wheeled into a conference room and most of my aunts and uncles were there along with my parents and sisters. That is when the doctors finally told me or I finally realized that I would be paralyzed for the rest of my life. They also told me that I would be ready to go home the next week. I remember being in shock that they were going to let me go home because I was not “fixed.” I suppose I was too young and naive to realize that there is no fixing paralysis.

I got home that March and it was hard to realize what had happened and how everything had changed so quickly. While I was in the hospital my parents had to remodel the house in order to make it wheelchair accessible. Everything from that point on was different and would never be the same. Or so I thought. 

I didn’t go back to high school that year or at least go to school. I finished my sophomore classes that summer with help from a tutor. That summer I did not do too much because I didn’t think I could do too much. Before school started in the fall for my junior year I received my electric wheelchair which helped in my recovery in many ways. It is hard to explain how dependent you are on someone else when you have a manual wheelchair. The electric wheelchair let me be somewhat independent. It also let me do what I like to do most and that is to get outside and enjoy the outdoors. Even though I didn’t go too far, at least I could imagine doing things and going places by myself. 

Going back to high school was great. I was scared people were going to treat me differently and feel sorry for me. I’m sure there was some of that but for the most part your friends are still your friends no matter what. They treated me like I was the same old Clint. I didn’t do much in high school that year or my senior year. In fact, I did just enough to get by to graduate. I didn't really do any extracurricular activities. My high school was very accommodating though. They changed my classes around moving them to the lower floors. They also added a medieval wheelchair elevator that was kind of scary. 

I believe the thing that got me most back into enjoying life again was after my high school graduation. This is when my friend Kondo asked me to help him coach the Enderlin Babe Ruth baseball team. As most of you know I live and die baseball. Coaching seemed to get me out of my shell and made me realize that I can do stuff and things I wanted to, with some limitations. Just getting out and being with friends was another turning point in my recovery. Kondo was a big part of this. And so were the players. They didn’t look at me as someone in a wheelchair, they looked at me as someone who could help them with their baseball fundamentals and someone who could lighten the mood with some good old Babe Ruth baseball humor. Some of you will know what I mean, especially the ones who were coached by Kondo. 

 
That fall in 1997 I decided to go to North Dakota State University to further my education. I had no clue what I was going to go into. I was actually thinking of agricultural economics. But I knew I wasn't too fond of math and science. Luckily for me I took a mass communication class for an elective and I really liked. The best part about it was it was mostly group projects. Actually, the best part about mass communication is the ratio of women to men. It is like 70/30. As a red blooded American male, that doesn't suck. That first year of college was quick. Amazingly, I even passed everything. I could tell you stories from that year but they are not going in here.

Now back to the hunting. In the summer of 1998 I received a phone call from Delmere McLean, who was a member of U.F.F.D.A. (United Federation for Disabled Archers). He asked me if I wanted to go on the bow hunt south of Leonard at the 4-H camp. My response was, “I can’t shoot a bow but I would come along and watch.” Delmere quickly and happily responded, “We are going to give you a crossbow and you are going to shoot.” I was kind of skeptical of what he was saying but went along with it. He told me to meet him and his crew at the 4-H camp that summer so I could get my crossbow. My dad and I went down and met the people who were organizing the hunt and they opened my eyes to what was possible. They gave me a Barnett Wildcat crossbow that did not have any adaptive equipment attached to it, but they said they would work with me to get it possible for me to shoot.

Sidebar: The awesome group of people who raised all of the money and did everything to get the first UFFDA hunt going in North Dakota eventually became their own organization. This organization is awesome and they have helped many a person like me achieve things they did not think were possible. Twist of Fate does not suck. They host a hunt every September south of Leonard in the beautiful Sandhills. Follow the link  for more info: Twist of Fate.

As soon as we got back home from meeting Delmer and crew, that's when my dad started working on the crossbow and the mount that was going to let me be able to shoot a bow by myself. We had to do quite a bit of manufacturing on our own. A lot of trial and error was done, but actually we got it pretty much perfected. I have used this same set up for almost 20 years. The forearm and the butt stock were removable on this crossbow. That made adapting it a lot easier. This crossbow was also very small and light, especially with everything removed that wasn't needed. Dad welded together a frame that let me shoot the crossbow by myself by the time the hunt came around in September. His welding skills do not suck. 

When I got down to the 4-H camp that September it was quite an eye-opener to see all the people there with different disabilities that were shooting compound bows and crossbows. People with no arms, people with no legs and even one man who was blind who was still enjoying hunting with limitations. This experience really opened my eyes to believe that I was really going to be able to hunt again. 

The first day that I went out hunting was on some of Wall’s land west of the 4-H camp. I had Bruce Eggen sitting with me the first time I went out hunting. Just to find out what I needed to help my hunting experience. And it did not take long before we realized that I was going to need something on my crossbow to help aim up, down, right and left. We were set up behind two round bales when a doe and two yearlings came by. I could not get my scope/crosshairs on the doe because I could not aim without moving my chair. For those of you who have never deer hunted before making noise before you shoot usually doesn’t work so well. As the deer left I started to think about what I could add on my crossbow to help in aiming. I should backtrack a little. Up till now my crossbow was fixed solidly on my mount and the mount was solid on my chair. This meant the only way that I could aim was by moving my chair by engaging the motor which made noise, that was for right and left. Up and down movement would have been a crapshoot. 

On my way back to the 4-H camp that night I thought about mounting my crossbow on a spotting scope window mount. So after supper I drove up to Scheels and picked one up. The next morning Dad and I were in the shop trying to figure out how to mount a crossbow on the spotting scope window mount. As it turned out it was a lot easier than we thought. We got everything hooked up pretty quickly and it worked pretty slick. That morning before we went back to the 4-H camp I shot a couple times and was amazed at how easy it was considering a month earlier I didn’t think that I could shoot a crossbow at all. 

On Saturday during the hunt there is a shoot when all of the hunters draw a target out of a hat and have to try to hit it at 15 yards. This is just to show everyone what different type of equipment everyone uses and how they use it. And the targets are not ordinary targets. They are playing cards, records, balloons and ping-pong balls. Guess what I drew, ping-pong ball. I remember I was nervous as a dog shitting tacks when I had to go up in front of everyone and try to hit this, knowing I had only shot my crossbow couple of times. I remember lining up thinking I should aim low because I had been shooting high. That is when I pulled back on the trigger and the next thing I knew everyone was cheering because I cracked that ping-pong ball dead center. Holy shinto. I was excited. 

I didn’t end up getting a deer at the 4-H camp that year but it was memorable anyway. Just meeting all the guides, hunters and volunteers was something I will never forget. Some of those awesome people are still with Twist of Fate to this day. 

After the hunt at the 4-H camp I went out hunting a couple of times during October but with no luck. That was until Halloween. I remember Halloween was on a Sunday that year because my friend Smoothy was going to pick me up to go hunting that day. I remember it was Sunday because Smoothy had to go away for a while starting Monday, but that is another story. It was a perfect Fall day with very little wind. I remember this because while waiting for Smoothy as usual, I was outside thinking he is going to get here too late to be able to get to where we want to go before dark. Just then I saw him coming down the driveway and he asked me if I was ready to go and we were on our way. We decided to go hunting down by Anderson’s a.k.a. Hartford Valley. We got out of the van and were looking for a place to set up in between a cornfield and Maple River. As we were going down the dirt trail we found a hay bale about 10 yards from the cornfield with a small mud puddle in between them. Smoothy said this was going to work perfect. He said the deer would come out of the corn, take a drink out of this mud puddle and you should have a perfect shot.

So he got me all set up and went to a tree stand that was within 50 yards. He figured that was far enough away so that he could smoke a cigert and the deer would not smell him and bust me. It wasn’t 20 minutes later when I heard some rustling in the corn. That is when two yearlings came out and started drinking out of the puddle. They were both too little to shoot, so I just watched them for a little while until their mom came out. She too, just like the others came out of the corn and drank from that puddle just as Smoothy said they would. That is when I lined her up and took the shot. I didn’t know exactly where I hit her, all I knew was there was a bunch of commotion in the corn and it sounded like she was breakdancing which is always a good sign. I waited a little bit and then I started whistling to Smoothy to get his attention. The next thing I knew, he was running toward me with his long legs flailing about asking me if I hit something. I told him that I shot and heard a lot of noise afterwards but did not know if I hit her good. That’s when we started looking around and found some blood on a corn husk. Then just like a bloodhound he disappeared in the corn and only went about 50 yards before he was hollering, “You got her, you got her!” I think he was more excited than I was. That night we shared in the harvest by eating the heart and tenderloins. It was the best tasting deer I ever had...

I cannot explain what I felt like to be back out hunting after everything I had been through. Just being in the outdoors again was worth everything. The main thing it gave me was independence. Not having to rely on anyone or burden anyone to reach a goal was very gratifying. I can pick the place where I want to hunt. I can pick when I want to hunt. I can choose to shoot a deer or let them go. Everything is up to me. Hunting with a bow is all about just you and the outdoors. You learn a lot about yourself and others when you're by yourself with just your thoughts sitting in the trees in the middle of nowhere. I just love it. It doesn't suck. 

After harvesting that doe that first year back in the woods, I was a little picky the next couple of years. I think I shot the first one just to prove to myself that I could do it. Not shooting anything the next couple years wasn't because I wasn't hunting, it was more of trying to become a better hunter. Also, of course I was looking for Mr. Big. Those two years I hunted more then I had ever done in the past. I've probably average going out around 30 times each year. I really learned a lot about how to pattern deer. There was a lot of trial and error. The only problem was every one always asked me, "Did you get anything?" "Why haven't you shot anything?" So the next year I decided to do something about it. That fall I was invited down to the 4-H camp again for the Twist of Fate hunt. That is usually the end of September. When I get invited to their hunt I still go out hunting before but would never shoot anything unless it would go on my wall. That year I was teamed up with my guide Less. He is a great guy and a great guide. The guides down there go through a lot of work finding the deer, patterning the deer and setting up blinds. Anyway back to the hunt. The spot I was hunting at that year was about a mile east of the camp on Gordon's land. Gordon is one of the landowners that graciously let us use their property. His property is one of the best I have ever hunted. The spot I was in the first night was kind of what I would call swamp buck territory. It was down in the thick woods along the Sheyenne river bottom. I remember it was really dark because of all the tall trees and thick underbrush. I remember thinking to myself when I got in there that I was in the battle with time because no sunlight was coming in. Shooting with a scope you need at least a little bit of sunlight or moonlight to see the crosshairs. I believe I had two or three does come in right away and then nothing for a couple of hours. Right when I was thinking nothing was going to come out I spotted a little 2 x 3 swamp buck walking right towards my shooting lane. This is when I for some reason decided to yawn. Because of my paralysis, when I yawn my arms move a little. And wouldn't you know it, my arm hit my trigger and my arrow went flying through the trees kind of like the Plink-O game on the Price is Right. So I was stuck there without any killing device and the buck walked right by without a care in the world. When Less came back to pick me up he noticed that my arrow was gone and he asked me what happened. Let's just say everyone back at the camp had a good laugh. 

After that little fiasco we decided to move to another spot the next night with a little bit more light and hopefully more action. That day we also rigged up a walkie-talkie to my tray so just in case I had another yawning attack I could call him up and we could cock another arrow. This was a grand idea until it started raining, this will come up later in the story, but I digress. The spot where I was hunting that night was on the sidehill and the deer would be about 10 yards below me, at about a 20 yard shot. I was used to shooting on flat terrain so this was a new experience for me. Anyway it wasn't 15 minutes and it started raining. Not hard but about to get everything wet especially the walkie-talkie. About 15 minutes after that a nice big dry doe came in to the Golden Nugget pile, you baiters will know what I'm talking about. Anyway shooting downhill I was always told to shoot a little lower because there is less gravity pushing down, in simple terms. So I aimed just below her armpit and let it fly. She took off running into the woods, it sounds like about 70 yards away. I could not tell if I hit her or not. It sounded to me that she was just spooked. I really started to doubt myself when I looked down at the spot where I shot and saw my arrow sticking out of the ground and I could not see any blood on it. This is when the walkie-talkie comes into play. I decided to call up Les and have him cock my bow again. But when I tried to hit the intercom button everything started sliding. So I decided to take my frustration out on the little piece of monkey poop and started beating it. During my little tirade I must've hit a button because I could hear him asking if I needed anything. But I could not respond because of the moistness and slippage. So I started beating it again and I heard him say I am coming. It didn't take him long to get to where I was and when he got there he asked me, "You have another yawning attack." We both got a good kick out of that.

Then I told him I shot at a doe but could not tell if I smoked it or not. So he went down to the spot where my arrow was and it was caked with blood. I thought to myself what a relief. It didn't take him long before he found her. We got all of my stuff ready to go, we headed back to his pickup dragging the deer and we called for my mom who had the shaggin wagon. It was still daylight so we decided to field dress her right there instead of back at camp. When we were looking at the entry and exit wounds we noticed that it was real low and we wondered what I hit. After looking through the organs we noticed that there was a perfect three blade slice right through the middle of the heart. So we saved the heart and brought it back to the camp for the guys to see. When we got back to the camp I told the guys I always hit what I'm aiming at. I had to get back at them for them ribbing the night before. By the way I think I still have the heart in my freezer if you want to see what I was aiming at...

Thanks for reading, Clint.

Part 3 coming soon…

Evolution of a Bow Hunter: Part 1.

            I was introduced to bow hunting when I was 13 years old by my cousin and some of his friends.  They would pick me up and bring me to some of their top-secret hunting spots and drop me off.  It would usually be at the end of the shelter belt, end of trial or draw, or a section of river bottom that they wanted me to push toward them.  I was really too young to know what I was doing but figured I didn’t really care because I was outside and hanging out with older guys  and that is always cool when you are younger.  I soon realized that all I was there for was their grunt work.  I would walk miles of old deer trails climbing over trees, walking through water, and crawling under bushes trying to push deer toward the guys posting on the other end of my hike.  I don’t think that first fall anyone harvested any deer, but I was hooked on bow hunting and have been ever since.

            The next summer in between baseball practice and games I worked on our family farm trying to raise enough money to buy my own bow and all of the attachments.  At this time I was 14 years old and had my drivers’ license.  So after baseball would come home and either jump in the combine or grain truck and work till dark.  After saving enough money I went up to Fargo Scheels and bought my Browning bow for $300 and with all the other necessities it totaled around $500.  I didn’t care how much it cost because I knew I was going to enjoy it. I blew my load of savings and it didn't suck.

Same car wrong color. Just picture this beaut in brown.

            Being the novice bow hunter that I was, the next day after school with my bow in the back of the 86 Chevy Cavalier I drove to Miller’s Service and bought a resident bow deer tag.  I didn’t even practice shooting before I went out on my first hunt but I figured I wouldn’t see anything because I really didn’t know what I was doing. I didn't even know how to use the three iron sights. Geesh. But I drove out west of Lucca on some of our farmland and decided to sit at the end of a shelter belt that I had seen deer use as a cover trail when I was combining earlier that year.

             I remember it as if it was yesterday.  I got out of my car grabbed my bow and started walking toward the belt.  All I had on for camouflage was Sigco Seed jacket I got from my uncle, blue jeans, and nothing for camouflage on my face.  There was corn on the east side of the belt and a coolly on the south end of the belt.  So I decided to sit on the south end figuring they would probably need to drink sooner or later.  I did not have a blind set up or a tree stand so I just decided to kneel on the ground and wait for Mr. Big to walk by.  I wasn’t there more than 10 minutes and I heard some rustling in the corn and I almost soil my pants!  I remember thinking it could not be a deer, it must be a raccoon or a loud squirrel.  But against all odds a doe poked her head into the shelter belt and stared right at me.  I was shaking uncontrollably and we stared at each other eye to eye for what seemed to be forever.  But then to my surprise she didn’t get spooked by my presence and walked to the north.  I could not believe that she didn’t get scared by me or by my scent.  Because being the novices’ hunter that I was I did not have any cover sent on.  After settling down I realized that even if I wanted to shoot her I couldn’t have because I didn’t have my arrow nocked on my string, it must’ve gotten bumped off during my shaking. 

Anyway after calming down I heard another rustling in the corn.  I figured it must be another doe, maybe her fawn from earlier that spring.  But to my surprise, on the same trail that the doe came, a 4x4 buck poked his head into the shelter belt and stared directly at me.  I proceeded to re-soil my already full pants.  We stared into each other’s eyes for a brief moment but he must’ve been more interested in the doe and started to follow her.  At this time I raised my bow, drew back and let my arrow fling.  And that was all it was because the next thing I knew my arrow was at least 2 feet over its back bouncing off of trees.  He didn’t even move he just turned around, looked at me and slowly walked away.  He must’ve realized he had nothing to worry about.

            If I wasn’t hooked before after that night I was definitely a bow hunter for life after that.  Over the next couple of weeks I would go out hunting from time to time and try my luck but with no success.  After that first night I also realized that I would probably need some practice actually shooting my bow and hitting what I was aiming at.  What a concept. I would also have to hone my skills in the stealth and wisdom of deer and their tendencies.  So I also started reading Outdoor Life magazine, plus asking my Uncle Floyd and other people that I knew about bow hunting.

I remember making a life-size target out of a couple idiot cubes (small square straw bales) for target practice with my bow. I remember getting good out to about 20 yards. But I am pretty sure I didn't even know what 20 yards looked like back then. I even made a silhouette of a deer out of cardboard from 30 packs of Schmidt Light. I would take 10 shots a night. That was about all I could take with that bow. The poundage must've been sent on 65 lbs. I was wore out after 10 shots.

            That fall I decided not to go out for football, instead I would work on the farm so I could go hunting whenever I wasn't in the field or at school.  It wasn’t just bow hunting I was interested in.  I also loved hunting ducks and mourning doves. Who am I kidding, I loved any type of hunting. After school I would drive home, grab my single shot 16 gauge shotgun, drive out to the field, hop into the Versatile or John Deere and plow or chisel plow until dark.  But on my way out to the field I would jump a couple of my favorite duck sloughs and whack a couple of mallards or teal.  When I would get home, I would breast them out and throw them in the freezer or the frying pan. Seeing that I didn't go out for football that meant all of my buddies were at practice or at the games. This meant I spent a lot of time by myself learning how to hunt and shoot. I learned that you can learn a lot by yourself just spending time in the outdoors making mistakes and learning from them. Anyways, football sucks when you are 5'2" and weighing in at 110 pounds as a sophomore.

             On the weekends when there was no practice I would go out hunting with my buddies who had pump shotguns or semi-automatic shotguns and I had my trusty single shot. I wouldn't show them where all the ducks were.  They would all get pissed at me because I could shoot more ducks with my single shot shotgun than they could shoot with their pumps or semi-autos.  I would have one in my chamber, one in my hand and another shotgun shell hanging out of my mouth.  I could get three shots off and drop something most of the time.  In the meantime they would shoot three shells and maybe get one duck.  I don’t know how many birds we shot that fall but it was one of the best times in my life. We have a lot of great memories just of driving around drinking Mountain Dew, chewing tobacco and smoking the occasional cigert.  Thank goodness gas was only around a dollar those days because we put on thousands of miles in that five-speed Cavalier hatchback that got 36 miles to the gallon. I believe it was an 85 model. We named it the duck.

            We would wake up on Saturday mornings drive around scouting deer, looking for spots to sit for bow hunting that night.  During our scouting for deer that is when we did our duck hunting other stuff and things. During the afternoons we would also find places to build stands for bow hunting.  All of them were sketchy stands made out of any type of old 2 x 4's that we could find.  Old rusty nails, a hacksaw, and a hammer were all we needed to build the scariest stands anyone would ever feel uncomfortable on.  I cannot believe none of us ever fell off one of these prehistoric engineered tree stands.  Every weekend during the hunting season this was the routine. Good times.

            In November of that year wrestling practice started and that pretty much put an end to hunting during the weekdays and most Saturdays were busy because of tournaments.  Practice would at least go to 6:00 p.m. and that would be a little too dark to go out hunting.  Hunting was usually down to days when there was no school because of holidays and Sundays.

            During Christmas break of that year we would have wrestling practice once a day, usually in the mornings and after that we would go trudging through the snow looking for deer. You could find us northeast of Enderlin in the “Hartford Valley.” There was always a big group of deer that wintered there.  We would spend hours pushing deer back and forth but no one ever got a real good shot at any deer. That is probably because they were running by us at 30 miles an hour.

On December 28, 1994 during one of our hunting expeditions my life would change for ever.

            Two friends and I decided to push the whole mile of river bottom from one section line to the next.  We dropped off one friend at the north end of the valley and the other friend and I were going to post at the south end. The plan was to wait for the deer to come to us. The friend who was walking towards us did not have a bow but he brought along his 22 caliber rifle and was hoping to shoot one of the many squirrels or rabbits along the river bottom. 

As we were posting at the south end we both could see our friend coming towards us but there were no deer.  I started to get up when I realized that my friend was aiming right at me.  The next thing I knew I was flat on my back and I could hear some yelling.  I remember lying there not been able to feel or move anything.  I had a warm, tingly feeling all over my body.  It was the weirdest feeling in the world.  The next thing I knew my friends were looking down at my asking me if I was hurt and then they realized that the bullet went right through my neck.  They asked me if I was in any pain and to their shock I said no, but now we know why. 

I probably wouldn’t be here telling you this story if one of my friends did not step up and take control of the situation.  He packed my neck with some snow, reached in my pants pocket, grabbed the keys and ran back to the pickup.  I later learned that if he would not have packed my neck that I probably would’ve bled to death.  I was conscious the whole time this was going on.  I later learned that when my friend was running back to the pickup he had to cross the river which was flowing but was not deep.  When he was crossing the river he was shaking so bad that he dropped the keys into the water, thankfully he found them right away. If not, the outcome would have been not so good.

I remember hearing the pickup start up and him driving about a mile and a half to the nearest farmstead where he called the ambulance. Then I remember the sound of the siren coming, I swear I could hear it coming all the way from Enderlin.  Once the rescue squad got there, I remember getting into the vehicle and that is when I lost consciousness.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

Part 2 coming soon…

Advice I would give to a newly injured spinal cord patient.

Every spinal cord injury is different. I am sure you have all seen the charts with the different level of feeling with each spinal cord injury. Just because I am a C4-5 doesn't mean other people with that same level can feel the same. I can move my left wrist but have no movement at all on my right wrist. Anyway, this blog is advice I would give to any newly injured spinal cord patient. I am not claiming that I know everything but this is just the stuff and things that I do know.

It is going to be hard getting used to the numb, tingling feeling that never goes away. It's like hitting your funny bone on your elbow. It's hard to explain. But that is the best I can do. I believe most people with spinal cord injuries have some type of this feeling. It is constant and does not go away.

I would recommend going to a rehab facility. I did not do this. I was in Merit Care now called Sanford (Scamford) for about three months. Looking back I probably should've gone to the Courage Kenny Rehabilitation Institute in Apple Valley, Minnesota or the Craig Hospital in Englewood, Colorado. But I guess I turned out okay but could have went through the hurdles a lot quicker if I went to a facility like one of these.

  

Try to find someone with a similar injury as yourself. This might be hard. Even if you do find someone they might not be willing to talk. But I'm sure if you searched hard enough on the internets you will be able to find someone. Of course I did not do this. Geesh.

Another thing that I did not do is read about spinal cord injuries. There are millions of websites and blogs out there for just this purpose. I guess in 1995 there wasn't that many. That is why I write this blog, to help others in the same situation as myself. So read my blog. You should be able to learn yourself something from it.

Besides reading about spinal cord injuries, another thing I did not do is look up videos on YouTube. You can look up just about anything about spinal cord injuries on YouTube and most of them are actually pretty educational. I even have a couple videos posted on my channel. Of course most of mine have to do with hunting.

I would suggest asking questions. Not only to people who might have your same type of injury but anyone who will listen. I had some great therapists during my stay in the hospital. I can still remember most of them. Some of them were awesome. I have said this before in other blog entries but I wish I could remember their full names. I would like to thank them. Physical and occupational therapists deal with cases like me daily. They know their stuff and things.

Get out of the house, don't become a hermit. I have seen this. Not just with spinal cord injuries but with most disabilities, when I lived in a low income housing unit in Fargo. It was depressing going through the common areas and seeing people just sitting there not doing anything. Never going outside of the building. I imagine there were many in that building that never left their apartments. Just sad. People would see me going outside every day and ask, "Where are you going today?" I was always doing something.

I know this will happen in the beginning but don't let your injury take over who you are. Accept the change, it sucks. It's going to be scary. Change sucks. This is a lot easier said than done. But it can be for the better. I just think of all the people I have met because I have been injured. Sometimes I think it is better that I am in a chair because of all of the awesome people I have met. You know who you are. Thank you.

Surround yourself with positive, loving, supportive people that don't suck. I was very lucky in this scenario. My scenario did not suck because of my family and friends. I truly have the best support system there has ever been. A lot of people say that but they don't know what I have. Thank you all.

Don't feel sorry for yourself. It doesn't help. I was too young and naïve when I was first injured to realize that I wasn't going to get better. I didn't realize I wasn't going to be able to do what I used to be able to do. When I realized this was going to be permanent I did feel sorry for myself. I learned quickly that that doesn't help anyone. It not only hurts yourself, it hurts everyone around you. I might look smart but I really am not.

Don't be around people who feel sorry for you. They suck. You know who they are. The people who pat you on the head, just like they would to a beaten-down dog. The people who feel sorry for you will just bring you down even more. Try to break free from these people. This might be tough but it will be worth it for your own sanity. Sucky people suck.

You are still you, just different from before. I have talked to many people about this. Me before my injury and me after my injury. Some people think I have changed. Some people think I am exactly the same. Of course I have changed but I believe my personality is mostly the same. I know I am more outgoing. I didn't talk to anyone before my injury. Usually just shrugged my shoulders. The chair does not make the person.

Find people you can talk to new, old and not friends. Sometimes it is easier to talk about stuff and things to people you do not know at all. I have found this to be true many times. Mostly about personal stuff. Sometimes it is hard to talk to friends that you knew before the injury about stuff that is now new to them also. Does that make sense. It does to me. Hopefully it does to you.

Try to stay positive. It's easier than being negative. I wish everyone could do this in every situation. Not just with spinal cord injuries. I didn't do this in the beginning but I have gotten a lot better at it. Even I have my shit days. But try to not let them take over yourself. Try to not let the shit day drag into days.

Do what you love, you might have to go at from different angle. You have to realize that you can still do what you love. Instead of playing baseball you might have to watch. But you have to remember you are still involved. I have found out that I can still hunt. My freezer full of meat and taxidermy bill is proof. I have written many blogs about this subject. So I will digress.

Don't give up. Have fun. I understand it is going to suck in the beginning. But try to go out and have fun. Rip it up a little. It's hard to do any more damage to yourself. Ha ha. I crack myself up. Get out and do stuff and things.

Hospitals are going to happen. Try to minimize the suckage. It would be in your best interest to learn your limits. I still haven't figured out mine. By limits I mean like the time in your chair per day. When I was going to college I would be in my chair 12 hours a day probably every day, every week. This is not good. It will catch up to you. One summer during college I had to lay in bed flat for three months. That sucked. I have had other pressure sores since then and they were not fun. It usually ends up with you staring at a ceiling for quite a while. You can only count the ceiling tiles so many times. If the so-called professionals tell you to only be in your chair six hours a day and to tilt back ten minutes per hour. I would suggest doing what they say. But then again, I have met a lot of neat people because of my time in hospitals. I have at least three blog entries about my time in hospitals.

In closing, do as I say, not as I did.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

PS: This blog entry was going to go in one direction and it kind of morphed into something else. I hope you enjoyed it. Because I enjoyed writing it. Well except for when I was halfway through and my computer froze. The piece of monkey poop. That sucked. But the next morning I was able to retain most of the info and spewed out some more stuff and things for your enjoyment.

Awesome leather arrow quiver and stuff.

I believe it was last summer when a friend of mine asked if I could do him a favor. I gladly said yes. I didn't think it was anything at all doing this favor. Well I will tell you what happened. My friend wanted me to help his daughter get used to shooting her rifle as she was going to be deer hunting that fall. I believe he said, "She will listen to you a lot more than she will listen to her old man." Ha. Good stuff. So we set up a day, went out to the range and did some shooting.

I could tell she was nervous right away so we decided to shoot a smaller caliber rifle to start the day. We used my Ruger 10-22. She really enjoyed it and she really shot well. Very well indeed. She burned through quite a few bullets. Good stuff.

She was shooting right-handed. But as she was shooting we noticed her left eye was always open. Some people can shoot with both eyes open but not all can master that. I learned a trick while helping coach the high school trap team when one student athlete couldn't close one of his eyes. So we put tape over one lens on his safety glasses. It worked like a charm for him. I will always remember the joy on his face when he started consistently breaking clays after being discouraged with not being able to hit them.

It also worked like a charm on this day. The only problem was we did not have any tape. So we had to channel our inner MacGyver. Good thing we had plastic spoons in the cabinet at the range. We put the spoon behind the left lens of her glasses. All I can say is, it worked.

It didn't take long for her to get comfortable and to get real consistent. It was impressive. It was fun to see her get better and better with each pull of the trigger.

She got her deer last fall and a turkey this spring. That doesn't suck.

I love trigger time. Even if I am not the one doing the pulling of the trigger. Trigger time is what it takes. Meaning the more time around your weapon of choice, the more better you will be. More importantly, the more comfortable you will be around that weapon.

For doing this favor which I really enjoyed, my friend wanted to do something for me. I wasn't expecting anything. I told him he didn't need to do anything. I love getting kids involved in the shooting sports. But he was determined to make something for me and he decided on an arrow quiver.

In his spare time he has a leathercraft business, "Storhoff Saddlery and Leathercraft." He does not suck at this. The leather quiver that he made is a piece of art. It is awesome. I don't even want to know how many hours he spent on it. It fits the back of my wheelchair perfectly. It not only looks great but it also is very functional. It will come in very handy when practicing flinging arrows this summer and many summers to come.

Thank you Brett. You can sit at my campfire anytime… That's a quote from, "The Man from Snowy River."

Thanks for reading, Clint.