Becoming a Hunter Education Voluntary Instructor.

 

Want to give back? Want to give back helping future outdoorsmen? Have you ever considered becoming a Hunter Education Voluntary Instructor?

"There is always a need for new instructors," said John Mazur the Hunter Education Coordinator for the North Dakota Game & Fish. "We have a pool of aging instructors reaching retirement from the program and we are always looking to replace them with new instructors. There are also instructors that move away or have other life obligations that prevent them from instructing courses. The need to recruit at least 60 new instructors a year is necessary to supplement turnover," explained John.

In 2015 there was 650 instructors in North Dakota. "Our need varies depending on the location of the instructors. We could easily utilize a minimum of 60 instructors in each of our larger cities (Fargo, Bismarck, Minot, Grand Forks, and Dickinson) In our mid-range towns we could utilize 25 instructors (Jamestown, Devils Lake, Williston, etc.) and in smaller towns we could use 1-3 instructor teams consisting of 4-6 instructors per team," said Mazur.

I had thought about this for a couple years and in 2015 I started the process of becoming a certified instructor for the North Dakota Game & Fish. The hardest part is taking the first step, actually signing up. Once the process begins it is quite simple. There are multiple steps to take in order to become certified but the Game & Fish will lead you through the steps. John said, "The process varies for everyone depending on their eagerness to get certified," when asked how long the process takes.

The first step is sending the Game & Fish a letter of intent or e-mail. In the letter/e-mail make sure to have your full name and mailing address. In a couple weeks you should receive a volunteer instructor agreement card. You will need to fill out the information and mail it back. The Game & Fish enforcement division will use this information to conduct a background check.

Once approved, you will be sent a packet of information that includes: an instructor’s manual, instructions for completing an online instructor course, a W9 form to get reimbursed $13 for the online course fee, a quiz to take after reading the instructor manual and a prepaid envelope to return the completed quiz and W9 form.

If you are worried about taking the written and online quizzes, don't be. The online course lets you read each chapter and then there are about 10 questions at the end. You do need to get a certain percentage right in order to pass. But if you read the material it should be no problem for any hunter. If I remember correctly, the online course took me about two hours to complete. The written quiz takes questions right out of the instructor's manual. So again there is no need to worry about these exams.

You will then need to assist in teaching a hunter education class under a certified instructor. I was nervous at the first night of class but that goes away quickly when you meet the kids and see their eagerness to take the class. If you do not know a certified instructor or where there is a hunter education class in your area, the Game & Fish will help you in making these contacts.

The class consists of 14 hours which are all taught in the classroom. This may seem to be a daunting amount of time but once you start the time goes by quickly.

When the class is over, the mentoring instructor sends the Game & Fish paperwork that shows you helped with the course. After a few weeks, you will receive a volunteer packet which includes an instructor ID number.

If you do not want to become an instructor and still want to help with a hunter education class, there are other ways to help. Classes are always looking for guest speakers that talk about anything outdoors, help doing gun safety practicals and helping on test night.

I have only helped with a couple years of hunter education classes so far because of medical reasons but I am glad I am became a certified instructor. The benefits are great which include sharpening your own hunter safety knowledge, meeting local youth and ensuring that I am doing a part to keep the youth safe and informed on what it is to become a responsible hunter and outdoorsmen.

If you have questions, you can either call (701) 328-6615 or email huntered@nd.gov

 Thanks for reading, Clint.

Accommodating businesses and stuff.

I have been lucky that most of the businesses that I want to go to are wheelchair accessible. In the last couple months I have gone to a couple watering holes in my surrounding area that I could only get into by using my Roll a Ramp. It was no big deal. There were always people there willing to help unload, set up and load the ramp whenever I wheeled up.

When I first met the owners of TJ's Corral, we hit it off right away. They are entertaining. I was there probably three times before I showed them my wheelchair accessible pickup conversion. Tanya's exact words were, "Get out the front door!" Then she told me that she was working on getting a ramp built. I kind of thought it was just talk. But within the week a ramp was built. It is perfect. Jared and Tanya rock.

I first met HJ and Mary about a year ago. I believe even then HJ was talking about starting a new bar. We hung out at his place a couple times and rocked out. Over the winter the plans for their new bar started coming together. The grand opening for the Rusty Spur was on June 14. I was able to get in to the remodeled old building by using my Roll a Ramp. But HJ and Mary promised me that they would have a ramp built as soon as possible. It wasn't a couple weeks later and the ramp was built. Talk about accommodating. Every time I have been there it has been a good time.

As my friend Gwen said, "Clint, you are making the world ADA compliant one bar at a time. Awesome!"

I can't thank all of these awesome people and their businesses enough for what they have done for not only me but the whole wheelchair/handicapped community. Barriers suck. But because of you guys a couple barriers have been removed. You all don't suck.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

A thanks for the trigger and stuff, thanks.

Some of you may know that I have been giving away trigger mechanisms that we invented for my rifles, crossbows and shotguns. If you don't know the story click on this link. I only have three or four triggers left to give away. I keep track of where I am sending them and save the responses that I get. In the last response, this thank you that was added sparked me to write this blog.

"Clint, I rewatched your video on YouTube and I have to say, you do one hell of a good job when it comes to shooting. Your injury must be kind of high, I am sure that along with your ideas of what will and what wouldn't work, you have some pretty good family or friends that work with you to come up with ideas that work.I am a C5-6 quad and have good movement in my arms, no finger movement. My Dad and I have come up with some shooting apparatuses, but nothing like yours.I take my hat off to you and whoever's helps you come up with the ideas you use to shoot.The regular able bodied shooter has nothing on you."

 That thank you e-mail made me look back again and appreciate everything that everyone has done for me. I truly have the best support. I have the best family, friends and girlfriend that a lucky guy in a wheelchair could ask for.

In fact, my whole blog is pretty much a thank you for everyone who helps me do my stuff and things. In every blog entry one of my family or friends is helping me do something. Without any of this support I would not be me. I want to thank all of you for letting me be me. You guys don't suck.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

I remember my introductions to fishing, hunting & trapping.

I remember getting introduced to the great outdoors from many different people, not just family. I wish I had more pictures from these events to share, but sometimes I think it is good there aren't as many pictures because without the pictures that helps to remember those great times. I think it makes the memories more vivid and also more awesome.

I remember the first time I was introduced to anyone shooting a bow was when I was at my friend Cody's place in town and his oldest brother Travis was in the backyard practicing shooting his bow at a target. A year or two later it was also with my friend Cody that I think I really developed my passion for bow hunting. We were sitting at his house when his brother Josh (Toehead) and one of their family friends Trevor asked Cody and me if we wanted to come push some river bottom for them. I really didn't have a clue what we were in for but Cody was gung ho so I went along. I think we were around 12 or 13 when this event took place.

I remember we were headed west on 46 when Trevor and Toehead explained to us where we were going and what we would do. We were headed to the trap. This is an oxbow of land almost entirely surrounded by the Sheyenne River around the Kathryn area. The trap is where the river circles around and almost touches itself. Where the water almost touches itself, there is a thin piece of land that only allows a narrow trail, barely walkable in between the almost island and the mainland. The trap is almost entirely wooded and is a deer haven. Trevor explained to us that Cody and I would start walking, one close to the river, the other would be in a little bit and push the trees in a circle to hopefully send the deer out to the trap where Toehead and Trevor would hopefully get a shot.

I remember the whole experience was awesome. Being with two older guys that we looked up to, going to this magical place where big deer were possible and walking through the woods in an area I had never been before developed my love for the not only hunting but bow hunting in particular. I think Cody and I pushed a dozen or so deer out through the trap that day and I even think Trevor took a shot but there was no blood shed. I think we walked a couple shelter belts on the way back to Enderlin. But neither of the older guys was successful. But the stories and the comradery that was shared clinched it for me. It wasn't about the kill, it never is. I didn't even have a bow in my hand. Just being there, out there with nature at that time in that spot was perfect for me.

I remember less than two years later I was saving up my money to buy my own bow. That is where the passion or some might say obsession began.

I remember my first ever fishing trip when we traveled to Canada. I actually went there twice, two years in a row when I was 13 and 14 years of age. On the first trip it was Scott, Spencer, Logan, Floyd, Bob, Joe, Ben and I. The second trip included Scott, Spencer, Logan, Don B, Danny, Joe, Ben and I. Some of the next few stories I can't remember what happened on what trip, I am getting old.

I remembered both times we went to the village of Minaki in the province of Ontario at the resort called Paradise Cove. The town is located on the Winnipeg River system. It doesn't look like a river though, thousands of islands surrounded by numerous lakes and bays. We were fishing mainly for walleye but I believe I caught mostly smallmouth bass. There was also some northern caught. But on both trips it was good that we brought along food because as always the resort owner said, "You guys should've been here last week. The fish were jumping in the boat!"

The amount of memories made here are too numerous to mention.

http://paradisecoveminaki.com/

I remember driving East on 46 at the crack ass of dawn and seeing all of the fields covered in water. The night before we got several inches of rain and that was the summer when the wet cycle began. Actually when we got to Fargo and after we picked up Scott and the boys, we couldn't go underneath any of the overpasses on I-29 because they were all flooded. Even when we were on the frontage road by Nodak the boat actually started to float off of the trailer because the water was so high. Good times. We almost turned around but glad we didn't.

I remember the night before down at Joe's eating so much side pork that I wasn't able to eat side pork again until about a year and a half ago. Burping and farting side pork in a Ford F150, single cab pickup with three other guys for seven hours kind of put me off of side pork for 25 years or so. Sidebar: That pickup blew up on the way home. We had to add a quart of oil every hundred miles. Smoking good it was. The next summer we went through bags of pistachios on the way up and the way down to Canada. I still haven't eaten any of those since. That reminds me, the only cassette Scott had in his suburban was Hank Williams Junior's greatest hits volume one. Kaw-Liga, ooh… I still know all of those songs word for word and it is still one of my favorite albums of all time.

I remember the second trip to Canada and having my drivers permit. I started driving South of the border around Pembina. The older guys thought getting through the border with a 14-year-old driving would go a lot smoother. They were correct. The border patrol just asked me a couple questions and in no time we were in Canada. They didn't even check for the illegal bait that was under my cousin while he was sleeping. They also didn't even check for the extra cases of beer. Good thing I didn't look like a smuggler at 14. Please don't send the Canadian Mounties after us, I believe the statute of limitations has passed anyway. Hopefully…

Logan, Spencer, Ben and I with our days catch.

I remember driving through the worst torrential downpour I have ever witnessed in my life on a two-lane highway somewhere in Ontario, North of Lake of the Woods. It was so bad that they made me pull over to the side of the road. It came down so hard it sounded like hail. But there was no hail. The downpour didn't last that long but I think we were pulled over for about ten minutes. When we started driving again it felt like I was swerving all over the road, even my passengers were beginning to worry if there was something wrong with me. Then my cousin Scott said, "Pull over again at the next intersection I want to check something." Once he got back to the back of the trailer he pulled the plug from the boat. Everybody got out of the suburban and laughed at the scene, except for me. There was so much water in the boat that the water was almost starting to go over the sides. No wonder why I was getting jerked around and was swerving. That is a lot of weight and movement when you don't know it is there. Once the boat was done peeing, I was back in the driver seat all the way to Minaki. Good times.

I remember driving through the maze of islands going to sand beach. It was a mythical place that my uncle Floyd used to tell us about where they caught hundreds and hundreds of walleye. I remember trying to find a lake called Lost Lake amongst these thousands of islands. The water was low so we had to lift the motor all the way up to dodge the submerged rocks while making our way into hidden treasure. It would be a safe bet to say not many have been through this passage and on that lake. That's neat.

Uncle Floyd, Spencer, Uncle Joe, Logan, myself and Ben at sand beach.

I remember trying to find landmarks on our way to and from fishing so we wouldn't get lost. I remember Scott, Bob, Spencer and Logan getting lost for an hour or two on their way back to the cabin. But they claim they knew exactly where they were. Ha. Good times.

I remember one morning flying through islands in Floyd's new boat when all of a sudden he started going straight towards one of the islands. Joe and I looked at each other concerned and about that time Floyd pulled back on the throttle as he made his way to the front of the boat. As he jumped onto shore with his cowboy boots, as the hull of the boat was grinding on the solid rock shore and as he grabbed for the toilet paper he yelled, "I got the scours!" I still laugh when I hear that story. Too much syrup. Good times.

I remember the fishing was always great but the catching, not so much. I remember going back into a shallow bay throwing daredevils and watching either the biggest northern or a muskie follow my lure numerous times with no strike. I wish I knew the figure 8 retrieval back then. I remember seeing my first waterfall. I remember seeing my first bear tracks that turned out to be my cousins pulling a trick on me. I remember homo milk. I remember the numerous Bode stories. I remember a lot of firsts on these Canadian fishing trips. I will remember them forever.

I remember the first time I went down to Todd's. His place is South of 27 along the Sheyenne River. Talk about deer heaven. I had never seen so many deers. Walking through that river bottoms that first time made me feel like Daniel Boone or Davy Crockett. The hunting down there is top notch and the habitat is the best around. The first time I was down there I was just a pusher. I didn't own a bow at that time. This time it was Todd, Cody, Toehead, Christopher and I. We pretty much just stumbled around and pushed deer in and out of the trees along the river in the middle of December. I know we crossed the frozen Sheyenne a couple times. I can remember this day like it was yesterday. It was a blast. Nobody got a shot that day with their bow but that didn't dampen the awesome time.

I remember going duck hunting for the first time with my single shot 16gauge. I did not have a driver’s license at the time and I didn't have the guts yet to steal the Cavalier. I think I was around 13 years old. I went with one of my dad's buddies, George. He was a waterfowl hunter. He has passed on now. But every time I saw him at the VFW we always had that in common. We never shot a duck that day but we did jump a couple roosts. I should have thanked him before he passed on. He was a good guy.

I remember fishing on the Maple with CL and Savage. This wasn't my first time fishing of course but this is the actual first time I remember. I was also with my cousin Ben. He is a couple years younger than I and I think I was 11 at the time. I do remember it was entertaining. We were fishing by the old pink house and of course we were fishing for northerns. The only thing I caught or I should say snagged that day was a huge snapping turtle. I remember I was on the East side of the river South of the bridge. I thought I snagged a log or something. But eventually there was a prehistoric, dinosaur looking head slowly popping out of the water staring at me with its jaws wide open. I could see my red and white daredevil hooked in its mouth. As soon as Savage saw his head popping out of the water he was yelling, "Don't let him get away!" Then Savage started running from the other side of the river, across the bridge tripping and fumbling along the river bank trying to get to my fishing pole. Of course as soon as he got to me the line snapped and the prehistoric monster slowly sunk into the murky Maple. I have always wondered if that turtle is still alive. It is crazy to think that that turtle still could be alive. Scary bastages. Or maybe Savage cooked him up in the soup pot. That turtle soup is good stuff.

I remember my first time hunting mourning doves with CL. He shot a couple doves the night before, cleaned them and we used their carcasses for decoys. I thought he was crazy. But he shoved a couple sticks in their bodies and placed them on bush by a fence line overlooking the creek that runs by Stordalen's. It wasn't more than a couple minutes and the birds were flocking in. I don't think I shot any that day. I know I didn't. But CL filled his limit and we had mourning dove on toast that night. Damn those birds are tasty. Lightly coated in flour, fried in butter and they are melt in your mouth tasty.

I remembered checking one of the trap lines with my cousin Steve and Don B. I believe it was South of Enderlin somewhere. I was only along with them once while checking the line. But it was memorable. Any time with these two characters is memorable, trust me. After that experience I went and bought some gopher traps the next spring. I didn't do so hot, but I had fun.

I remember my first time pheasant hunting with my cousin Jason (Spooy) and one of his buddies Dennis. Before we went out they tested my shooting skills with my old single shot 16gauge. One of them had a bottle of snoose juice. They got me ready, stood behind me, then threw the plastic bottle up in the air and yelled rooster. The bottle only when about 10 yards and I shot. Then we went and inspected the bottle. There was only about a handful of BB holes in the bottle but they both said, "Good enough." That day I was treated more like a flushing dog but I did not care. I was one of the guys that day. I was eight years younger but it didn't matter.

I remember walking one cornfield with Dennis and Jason that day. We only kicked out one rooster on the walk which jumped up right in front of me. By the time I collected my thoughts, I didn't pull the trigger because the rooster was too far away. When we got back to Jason's pickup, Barry (Door Slammer) pulled up in his pickup. He first said, "Why didn't you shoot Clint?" I told him I thought it was too far away. He told me, "You can't hit em if you don't shoot." Wiser words have never been spoken. He then reminded us of the regulations of not being able to hunt corn fields when they are unharvested. I had no clue. Jason and Dennis just laughed. Good times.

This photo is from 2009.

I remember the first time I walked the Maple River northeast of Enderlin. My cousin Jason and a couple of his buddies had me push the river bottom from Jesse's to Jerry's. I remember there were deer going in every direction. I think it was either Brady or Door Slammer who were walking with me. Nobody got a deer that they but it was an experience. I have hunted that parcel of land many times since this memory. In fact, that is the same place where I shot my first deer with a crossbow. The whole valley now is a wasteland. It is difficult to even drive through that area for me. All of the trees are gone or dead. This is because of the Maple River Dam that was erected and completed in 2007. It still makes me angry in my facial region. Anyways, I digress.

https://www.redriverjointwrd.org/uploads/4/0/1/1/4011927/maple_river_dam_fact_sheet.pdf

I remember looking up to these guys in my hunting and fishing education. They were older, maybe not so much wiser but they knew more than I. A lot more than I and I wanted to learn. I think every young boy goes through the same thing growing up in the country. Hunting and fishing was life. It teaches you a lot of valuable stuff and things. Life without these things is still life but not as pleasurable. Most of these events took place in the early 90s. There were no hunting channels, there was just Tony Dean, Babe Winkelmann and Marty Stouffer to name a few. Thumbing through Outdoor Life magazine made the imagination run wild with big bucks and stringers full of fish. You needed to learn from the older guys or needed to get your knowledge from reading. A pair of blue jeans and some hand-me-down Army camouflage was all the hunting attire anyone needed in those days. It was a simpler time. Man that makes me feel old saying that. But it was.

I remember these times in the middle of winter staring out the window. I remember these times when I am in my hunting blind. I remember these times when I am in the hospital. I remember these times a lot. These were good times. I remember these days like they were yesterday. I hope kids these days still have memories like these to look back on. It wasn't just about the kill. It was about the experience. I don't think I ever witnessed anyone kill a deer with a bow until I did when I was 18. It was about the comradery. It was about the learning. It was about the anticipation. It was about the thrill of what could be. It was fuck awesome.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

ATConversions, YouTube and stuff

I made this video explaining my wheelchair accessible pickup this fall and decided to put it on YouTube. A little while ago ATConversions contacted me and wanted to know if they could use it for advertising. Of course I agreed and now it is live.

I would like to thank Sarah, my vid cam chick. We actually recorded the video in one take, winning. I would also like to thank everyone who made this pickup possible. I know I have thanked you all before but there will never be enough thanks from me.

Thanks for reading, Clint.

Remembering Otis and stuff

I had to put down Otis a week ago. Everybody tells me it was for the best. I knew it was the right thing to do but I still question it.

I still turn the volume down when there's a dog barking because Otis would freak out and start baying. I still think of him when I see the UPS man. Otis hated his guts and livers. But he loved everyone else.

I am going to miss him this spring, summer and fall. You see I would take him for walks or actually some might say he would take me for walks around the yard, down the driveways and through the paths in the shelter belt. 

When he saw the leash and pole mechanism I would attach to my wheelchair he would always be willing and be raring to go. He would actually be raring like a horse and chomping at the bit.

He was brought to me when he was a little over one year old. He left me when he was a little over 13. We had a good run, a lot of good runs. But his last run wasn't the same. He didn't even want to go. I knew he wasn't the same and wasn't going to be the same.

I miss the sound of his toenails on the hardwood floor. Click, click, click, click…

His face was gray and he was a little bit slower but he still acted like a pup.

He cried when I left the house, every time. He ran around like an idiot every time I came home, every time.

He wasn't perfect, actually far from it. He would only do something if he knew a treat was in his future. But that didn't matter to me. He was my little buddy.

Putting him down was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It sucked.

RIP Otis…

2018 Hunt #13: Crossbow Buck.

I knew November 20 was going to be a busy day of stuff and things. I didn't realize how busy. I got in the chair around 11:30 AM. While I was having some lunch I looked outside and I thought to myself, "Today looks like a buck day." After lunch we burned down to Lisbon because I had a physical therapy appointment and after that I decided to get my hairs cut. In the back of my mind I knew I wanted to go hunting when I got home but I didn't know if I would have time. While I was getting my haircut, Rick the barber and I started having a conversation about hunting. I knew right then I was going to go hunting when I got home.

When I got home I had to tilt back in my wheelchair for my required 10 minutes. As soon as I was done I washed my hair quick and started getting dressed for the evening hunt. The temperature was around 35°, it was an overcast, dank day when I headed out to the blind north of the house around 3:30 PM.

This being my being my 13th sit of the year, and I think eighth time sitting north of the house in my pop-up blind, I pretty much knew the routine of the deer. But four days before, the corn that was surrounding the farmstead was harvested so I didn't know for sure how that would change the deer movement. I sat the week before during the snow storm and had deer moving the whole time. But that was when the corn was standing. All I knew was that the rut was hot and heavy. The trail cam that I have set up next to the blind has been capturing deer steady for about 10 days. There were at least nine different bucks that have showed up, but mostly nocturnal. I just needed one of them to get twitterpated and make a mistake.

The deer usually come in around four thirtyish. So as that time passed I was beginning to wonder if I was going to see a deer. I thought maybe I was making too much noise trying to muffle my coughs because I was just coming off of a head cold. Then at 4:50 PM, I looked to my west where the deer usually come from and I saw the old lady skinhead. One of those wise, smart does that usually bust you if you make a mistake. Usually she has her fawn with their but tonight she did not. She also did something unusual, instead of working her way in between the two shelter belts to the east she took a right turn and trotted south into the old shelter belt and decided to lie down. This was very strange. But I soon realized why.

 

I am glad I put a cam right here. This is him when he came in. The time is an hour off.

It wasn't 10 seconds after she laid down I saw antlers coming from the west. I recognized him right away. A nice 4 x 4 that I have had on trail cam numerous times throughout the fall. I thought for sure he would follow the old lady into the bedding area but she wasn't having none of it. We have all been there. Anyway, he walked straight towards the bait which was within 10 yards directly in front of me. The problem was he was facing right at me. He would eat and put his head up and look right at me. He had no clue I was there. The wind was at his back and blowing right in my face. I could smell him. He was rutted up. He even did that thing when they rub their glands together on their back knees. He was full on twitterpated. The problem was, he wasn't moving in any direction. Just eating and staring my direction. It felt like forever but it always does when you can't move an inch knowing you will get busted if you did.

 

This is the fawn as she is circling back to the west. At this point the buck is following her. You can make out the white of his belly in the trees. He follows her back out of the belt.

All of a sudden his back legs started to work their way south and he was moving into the direction of a better shot. But he was still quartering towards me. Not good. I wanted him to be perpendicular. I didn't want to blow this. All of a sudden I noticed the old lady's fawn trotting through the new shelter belt on the north side of us. She had her tail down but made two soft bleats. I thought she was going to entice him away, forever. The 4 x 4's head went on a swivel and he stepped to the north to see what was up. He grunted a couple times and became perpendicular. It was a perfect shot, but right when I was reaching for the trigger with my right arm he took off to the east and followed the little one. But like her mom she wasn't wanting any either.

I thought my opportunity was gone. My brain was spinning. It was a perfect shot but it was just too quick for me to get on him, aim and pull the trigger. All of a sudden I heard another grunt. He was coming back. I couldn't see to my east because I have that window in the blind covered. But I could tell he is getting close. Then all of a sudden he was perfectly broadside standing within 10 yards of me, facing west this time. He put his head down and I lined up my crosshairs right behind his shoulder, waiting for him to put his head up. As soon as he lifted his head I took the shot. I don't even remember the pull of the trigger. It was one of those shots. You just know it was good.

 

The 4 x 4 after the shot, heading west while nosediving.

The next thing I knew I heard that big crack and he nosedived hard into the ground. I knew I skewered him and I was hoping he would go down. He ran to the west and I lost track of him. But it sounded like he crashed in the slough which isn't more than 50 yards away. I looked down at my phone and it said 4:58 PM. All that took place in under ten minutes. That is good stuff.

There was good light left, sunset was 5:26 PM. So first I called mom at the house, which is only about 80 yards away from where I was sitting. She knew something was up, I said, "I just smoked a buck, a big buck!" She was excited. I could hear it in her voice. I told her she could come out as soon as she got some orange on and to make sure to bring a flashlight. As soon as I got off the phone with her I needed to contact a tracker. My regular tracker Don B was out west chasing mule deer. So I first called Lawrence. No answer. Then I called Trauty. No answer. Then I tried them both again. No answer. Then I remembered that Brad should be done with work. As soon as he answered he knew why I was calling. I told him not to get excited but I think I killed a buck. I told him what happened and he said, "Oh yeah, he is dead."

 

The Muzzy Trocar broadheads aftermath.

As soon as I got off the phone with him I looked to the west and I could see red everywhere. I didn't notice this right after the shot in all of the excitement. Where he first nosedived I could tell that he wasn't going to survive very long. Then mom got out there and she lifted the blind so I could drive my wheelchair out. As soon as I got out of the darkness of the blind I was feeling pretty confident with the scene in front of me that we were going to find him.

 

The unsettled dirt is where he was standing. Just under 10 yards to my Primos-The Club blind with Mossy Oak Break-Up.

It seemed like it took forever for Brad to get out there but it was the anticipation that was killing me. It was only about a half-hour. He came with my sisters. I could tell it wasn't one of their new pickups. It was the 86 Nissan. The next thing I knew I could hear it driving through the stubble field banging and a clanging. It sounded like it was going to fall apart. Anyway, Brad made his way towards me from the west and asked me where it went. He said he hasn't seen any blood yet, as he was walking towards me. My guts dropped. I knew the 4 x 4 had of went that way. Then he said oh, here is some blood, a lot of blood. He turned around and the buck was laying right there. The reason why he didn't see any blood on his way there was because it didn't make it that far. It only ran about 30 yards and crashed. I'm sure glad I switched to Muzzy Trocar broadheads with a bigger cutting diameter. That thing did its job. I have to confess, I only took three practice shots with the new broadheads but they all hit the mark at 20 yards.

Then the excitement took over. I got to admit I got a little verklempt. This is the biggest buck I have ever shot. That isn't ever my goal, to shoot the biggest but it doesn't hurt when it happens. Then of course the congratulations were given and pictures were taken. That's when the gutting crew took over. It was Randi's first time seeing this process. She took it like a champ. Shelie has gutted numerous deer. They held the deer secure while Brad did the dirty business. When we were done they put it in the back of the Nissan, I made a cocktail in the house, mom and I got in the pickup and we headed to town to raise some hell. Dad was going to be at the meat locker when we got there. It was a family affair. Good times.

  

After the buck was hanging in the locker we went to the Spare Time for a celebratory drink or two. I would like to thank mom and dad for taking me hunting whenever I want. I would like to thank Don B for setting up my trail cams and hunting spots. I would like to thank my gut crew Brad, Shelie and Randi. I would like to thank the other landowners whose land I hunt on. I always have an option of where I can hunt and I truly appreciate that. I truly have the best family and friends. You all don't suck.

Thanks for reading, Clint.