Tanner Colten Moad, 5 years old, is one of the coolest kids I know. The youngest of 4 children of mine, Tanner never stops moving.
Before gun season in central eastern Oklahoma, the traditional bow season usually takes priority. I had taken the first week of bow season off from work in an attempt to tag out early at the request of my wife Lori. In her mind, if I was to tag out early, my deer season would then be “dear” season, with lots of additional chores getting done that get overlooked during each year’s deer season.

As a bow hunter, I was able to harvest a doe pretty quick, and two days later, stuck a nice 8 point that only took two steps before falling over. I had watched that buck spare with a 9-point two days earlier, and was in hopes I could manage to get the edge on one of them as both were very big bodied deer. Well, upon getting the close up view of the 8-point I had just harvested, I realized that half way up one side of his G-2, his antlers were completely broken off. A few of his other tines were damaged as well, which led me to believe that the 9-point he had previously been sparing with, probably wasn’t sparing anymore.

With bow season quickly becoming gun season, my son Tanner, was getting pretty excited about going hunting with dad this year. I had to work the first day of the season, but promised to take him on Sunday. Sunday afternoon, around 3:00pm, I was off to the deer woods and had my little man right there with me on the 4-wheeler. We drove to a spot where not much hunting activity was going on, and climbed into the buddy stand that was located there. The buddy stand had the camouflage netting around its fall protective bars and I knew that if a deer did come in, that the anticipated movements of my son would go undetected.

To my surprise, Tanner, sat quietly in the stand with me, pulled out his binoculars, and commenced to scanning the woods all around. When a squirrel would drop an acorn from a tree, it would hit the leaves, and Tanner would turn quickly to identify what made the noise. He would whisper to me that he thought he heard something over there, or over there, and over there. I know this sounds crazy, but I loved every minute of watching him pay attention to what was going on in the woods around him. Now he was hungry, 15 minutes after we were in the stand. He pulled out a package of crackers and quietly munched on them while looking around. We switched positions about 10 times, so he could see everything. He would ask me questions about all kinds of woods activities and now sat in my lap to get a better view. About 1 and ½ hours in the stand now, Tanner started doing the chicken head. You know, when someone is trying desperately not to fall asleep, but their eyes roll back, and their heads starts popping up. Well, it wasn’t long before “Mr. Energy” was resting against my arm, quietly sleeping.

Soon as Tanner decided to snooze, I elected to stay in the stand since there was only about 30 minutes left of daylight. So I positioned Tanner so he could lay down across the buddy stand seat that was covered with a camouflage blanket, and I would stand up. After positioning Tanner towards comfort, I stood up in the stand, now facing the rear, and spotted a nice buck standing there watching me. I touched Tanner on the face and arm attempting to wake him from his afternoon nap. I whispered to him “Tanner, there is a deer, wake up”. No response. So I looked back up the deer was gone. I positioned my rifle across the stand bars and waited for the deer to exit the brush. Just as I thought, he walked right through the opening in the brush headed for the deep woods. I announced I was there with a mouthed made “grunt”. He stopped and “bang”. As soon as the shot rang out, “Tanner, jumped up, wide eyed and said “Did I GET HIM?. Excited now, he really wanted to know if he got a deer. I smiled at him and excitedly said yes son, you got a big old buck. He jumped up and down in the stand and hugged me, and said “Well, where is he? Let’s go get him.” His little voice was squeaking high and low with excitement. This was his first experience in the deer woods hunting, and man he sure loved it, as did I. We climbed down the stand together, and went to where the buck was standing. I showed him the blood on the ground and explained to him that he should walk beside the blood, not in it, when he was tracking a deer. He started to walk beside the trail when he squeaked again. “I found him, he is right there” pointing. All of these events happening so fast, I wanted them to slow down some so I could savor the enjoyment of watching him. I showed him the caution of approaching a wounded or dead animal, helped him count the points on the antlers, and hugs and pride just rushed through me. After all, this hunt was supposed to be all about him.

He helped me load the deer on the 4-wheeler, and away we went to show the family. Close to the house now, I walked beside the 4-wheeler and allowed Tanner to drive up to the house. Picture this, A five year old boy, dressed in a camouflage shirt and orange hat with vest, driving a ranch 4-wheeler with a rifle in the rack on the front, and a 140 pound 8-point deer strapped to the utility rack in the back, coming out of the deer woods and driving up to the house with his mother waiting for him with a camera. Wouldn’t you be proud? I know I was. Tanner will never forget his first deer hunt, but neither will I. I think Lori, my wife and his mother, took a million pictures that evening.
Not only that, but he beat me this year with his deer. Mine during bow season was 150 pounds, but his rack was bigger. It is good to start them off young.

“There he was”, A fine 8 point standing in the gap”

By Mac Moad

The first week of October was finally here.  The first three days were spent in my favorite stand watching 3 raccoons in which I had named Larry, Curly, and Moe.  The mother raccoon was slightly bigger than the two younger ones, and seemed curious to every movement surrounding them.  The days here in eastern Oklahoma in October were still in the 80’s with mosquitoes buzzing everywhere.  I was wondering if it were still to hot to hunt and questioned myself again over and over.  Each day so far, I had hunted morning and evening with only a few does showing up.

Our family is one of three families (all related) that live on the mountain with about 360 acres of land owned by our families.  Each year we hunt, we always establish the rules.  {8 Point or better for the husbands} {Wives and kids, buck or doe} Now last year I hunted all year and didn’t harvest one deer, but I had seen enough antlers to keep me excited.  Every time Bill and Grover, my brother in-laws, sure let me know how I got spanked on last years hunt.  Both are avid rifle hunters and tagged out the year I brought home nothing.  I was thinking about this already early in this season while elevated about 18 feet up in my climber.  I wondered, as every other hunter does, will this be my year.  As I looked down from my stand at the raccoons again on the 4^th morning of October 2007, I was once again thinking of how pretty they were and how every day I am in the woods, I look for the highlight of the day.  Whether this was the highlight of the day again, or was an owl going to sit on the limb next to me, a squirrel sitting on my boot, quail leaving a fast trail for a coyote, bobcats on the prowl, turkeys rustling, what was going to be the highlight?

Then, I saw movement directly in front of me.  I was a deer for sure, and no does were present yet.  I had placed my stand in what my wife calls the quiet spot.  High cedars with no brush, not to thick, but perfect for a good bow shot.  A well used doe trail to my right, and another trail coming in from the left, thicker trees to my front.  I could see about 40 yards around me with a creek bed behind me on a down hill gentle slope. The deer in front of me wasn’t spooked or aware of my presence as it slowly made its way directly toward me.  Sun to my back and the breeze in my face, finally, I could see him completely.  “Very nice buck” I was thinking.  As he moved closer and closer, I could count 4 on one side and 4 on the other.  Not sure if I wanted to take the shot just yet, I moved into position just in case.  Standing now and ready to draw, I used the bow as if I was hiding behind its small limbs.  The buck was much bigger than I originally thought the closer he moved to my stand.  20 yards and still coming, 10 yards and still coming.  He stopped, head concealed by a large cedar tree.  I came to full draw and picked my shooting lane.  As if knowing I was now ready to shoot, the 8 point stepped from behind the cedar and moved closer, directly into my shooting lane.  7 yards, I picked my hairs on the buck, just behind the shoulder and quartering down.  I could sense the raccoons to my right and felt a sense of calm, took a large breath, let it out half way, became steady as a rock and released.

{‘Wham”}  I dropped him in his tracks.  I intended to penetrate spine, heart, and lung if possible for a deadly and swift kill.  My broadhead did exactly that.  I stood for a moment and watched the buck lie still and quiet.  Larry, Curly, and Moe were nowhere to be seen.  I called my wife using my cell phone and quietly whispered I had a good buck down, her response to me was “why are we whispering”.  Laughing a little I said, I am in the quiet spot.

After checking the buck in and heading to the processors, I continued to hunt the evening in another stand.  Each day I hunted, I elected to use my climber instead of pre-placed stands used each year.  October the 7^th, 3 days after my first buck of the year, my 14 year old son was ready for action.  This would be his first year bow hunting, and he practiced every day for the last two months.  He was actually quite good shooting the pillow target and 3D’s, in which I was very proud.  Sunday after church, he would be in the woods with me for the evening hunt.  Everything seemed to go wrong.  I found out he was afraid of heights the hard way, but patiently, I assisted him into a lock-on stand with steps, explained the safety belt, strapped him in and climbed down.  I hooked his bow on the bow string and up and away the bow went.  While the bow was being pulled up by my son, I was watching all around me, trying to quiet down the woods, when {Wham}!!!!  My right hand was numb.  I looked at my hand and there was a deep cut to the bone on the top.  My son had almost had the bow in his stand when the bow string slipped.  The bow caught me square across my hand.  Seriously nervous and seeing the blood, my son asked if I was alright and maybe we should just go home and get the hand took care of.  He said he was so sorry and it just slipped, and…………  I assured my son everything was fine, helped him get the bow up the stand, and assured him he was ready to hunt.  “Don’t worry about me son, you just keep your eyes out for the big one.  I will be about 100 yards straight across the creek.”  I pointed with my other hand where I would be, wished him good luck, then started walking away from his stand. After crossing the creek and out of sight from Chase, I stopped and looked at the top of my right hand.  I was hurt pretty good, and I still couldn’t make a fist yet.

Not wanting to leave the woods with my son still in a stand, I elected to set up on a trail I knew of and wait it out.  I pulled off the climber from my shoulder and worried a little about if I could even use the stand to climb or not.  After setting up the stand at the bottom of the tree I picked out, we were going to find out if I could climb with one hand.  It actually wasn’t that bad.  Up the tree I went, got situated, smiled a little at how stupid I was to stand directly under my sons stand when he was raising his bow then shrugged it off as “my stupidity, my fault.” Now situated and seated in my stand, I wondered if I could even draw my bow back with the bum hand.  So, I stood up quietly, drew the bow and wow, man did that hurt.  I sat back down and thought once again, I hope a big buck goes by my son instead of me this evening.  Not real sure I could even draw again.

45 minutes later, about 6:05pm, I caught movement from over my right shoulder.  Yep, you guessed it.  It was a buck, but a very small buck.  Knowing that early in this season the bucks were still traveling together, I stood, turned and prepared.  Sure enough, 5 yards behind the 4 point, was a small basket 8 point.  Immediately I decided not to shoot this small 8.  To my surprise, directly on his heals was a really nice 8 point.  Now I was getting excited.  By the way, the first buck in front had walked directly under my stand and was now in front of my stand.  I drew slowly, aimed center mass of the shooting lane in a gap in the brush.  The small 8 point buck walked through the gap, and then “There he was”,  A fine 8 point standing in the gap.  Once again, I picked my area of hair behind the shoulder, quartered down, controlled the breathing, paused, and slowly squeezed the trigger release.

{Wham} I dropped him in his tracks.  I intended to penetrate spine, heart, and lung if possible again and sure enough, the broadhead did the work.  Can you believe this, 6 yards, another nice buck on the ground, just laying there.  I stood in amazement, I was shocked.  This was a really nice buck, pretty wide and may score as well.  The odd thing about this was, “dropped in his tracks.”  The very thing every hunter hopes for is to find the deer, or even better a swift and clean kill.  Well, not only did I find the deer three or four days ago, I found this one too.  I was like a dream.  Two 8 point bucks, both bow kills, both in the same week, both dropped in their tracks. I realized after a brief moment of silence, that my hand did not hurt anymore, and to make things even better, my son was on this hunt with me only 100 yards away. The two bucks that were in front of this one, there would be a good chance Chase saw them or even may get a shot.  But what will always cross my mind is how big was the buck that was still coming in from behind the buck I harvested.  I saw him jump when I released.  I climbed down and walked to Chases stand, walked cautiously up to the side of him and told him we had a good buck down.  Excited, he said he saw two bucks running and asked how big my buck was.  I told him, “well, I don’t know really, maybe you should help me track him”.  Chase was so excited when he walked up to my tree, buck in plain site.  “Man, I’m gonna get me a buck like that” I went to retrieve the 4-wheeler, we loaded the deer and headed to the house.  I was kind of in a hurry as the darkness was starting to set in, and I still needed to check this buck in too.  Arriving at our home on the mountain, my father stepped out on the deck and observed our approach.  My father had just come in from out of town that day to visit us for a week, so that was kind of cool him seeing me bring in another deer.  He was a big deer hunter with hunting skills that I always admired.

As far as the wife goes, she was so excited.  Not so much that I had gotten a nice buck, but that I had gotten two nice bucks with a bow in the first week of hunting season.  She rubbed it in real good to her two brothers whom still hadn’t harvested anything.  The next morning, as I watched the brother in laws roll out to the woods to deer hunt, I told them the same thing I always told them.  “Good luck and I hope you get a big one” Every bit of this is true, and I honestly believe this will be hard for me to beat next year.  After all, now my season just went from deer season, to “dear” season.  Being tagged out in the first week of bow season is a sure sign that honey-do’s will be a major part of the rest of my season.

Whether hunting public or privateland, the fundamentals of calling elk remain the same.

By Michael Waddell

We heard the bull bugle at first light and snuck into his core area. When I hit a lick on my bugle, the bull simply came unglued and stormed our position like a tank, crashing through brush and small lodgepole pines like they were atchsticks. Before we could react he was in our lap and we were pinned down, myself hiding behind a camera, too afraid to even touch the tripod for fear of my shaking hands would run the footage. All I could see of my partner edged against a stunted pine was the tip of his undrawn arrow shaking uncontrollably on the rest. Before a shot presented itself, the bull smelled a  rat and disappeared as quickly as he arrived.

While this experience didn’t result in a dead elk, it did hopelessly addict me to calling them. It seems that in all walks of life, be it the animal kingdom or humans, communication is a key ingredient for all social interaction. However not all living things communicate to the same degree. If you ask my wife, I am sure she will tell you I lack in the communication department, in fact I am sure she believes I don’t listen to her at all, but when it comes to communicating with animals I can barely shut up. Of all the animals I love to communicate with elk rate right at the top. By nature elk are very vocal. The uninitiated often simply think of bulls bugling, but cows, calves and bulls make all sorts of noises year around. If you encounter a larger herd of elk while you might not hear a thing from a distance, if you get close you will hear lots of subtle vocalization. Most of the time these are sounds of contentment, but depending on what’s happening the vocalization reflects it. Elk can convey contentment, danger, curiosity, or a cow in heat. Bulls for instance only bugle primarily in the rut, but they also communicate to establish a pecking order. After spending a considerable amount of time chasing the mighty wapiti, I’m convinced every elk in the herd knows each other by sound alone. This happens with the cows as well as the bulls and based on my evaluation somewhere in this mix is the deadly secret to calling elk archery-close.

Imitation Is The Sincerest Form Of Flattery

It seems that the more vocal a herd the better the odds are for success at calling them. Some cows call subtle, while others are loud-mouth ladies actively looking for a date. By listening it gives you a better opportunity to imitate the particular tones and intensity of the herd. By calling we are automatically intruding into the social club without an invitation. The closer we can sound to a known elk, and match that intensity the better the odds are of filling a tag. Even though we may sound like an outsider to the herd, luckily for us, love crazed bulls are not looking to be intimate with just one or two cows they are looking for all the love of every cow in the world, so taking advantage of their sexual frustrations and promiscuity is what we aim to do. It doesn’t take a world champion elk caller to trick bulls within range. By simply paying attention to the herd and understanding simple elk rhythm, tone and more important volume when calling, a hunter can depend on an elk call to be a valuable asset to dulling broadheads.

Public Versus Private Land

Since I started hunting elk 16 years ago, on private as well as public ground, I have realize that comparing these two different types of ground are like comparing night and day and it is all about the amount of pressure each receives. Generally speaking private ground bulls are way easier to call than public ground animals, but this is not always the case. Some private land does get a lot of pressure, which can make for some pretty tough calling duels with elk that can serve you up a humble pie every time you bust out a call. While conversely some public land either through sheer remoteness or hard-to-get tags is like calling the best private land in the nation. Hunting un-touched land and cow calling to bulls that have never heard a Hoochie Mamma would obviously be nice and it wouldn’t take long working over these uneducated elk to start feeling like an elk calling pro only to be deflated the first time we went to the national forest and mixed it up with bulls so well-known by local hunters that they have knick names. However, regardless of where you hunt the basics of calling remain the same. Start with mastering the cow call and all its various inflections. Your basic reed type calls are the easiest to learn as well as get proficient with. You will find two kinds; both are bite down reed-type of calls, one being enclosed and the other having an open reed or reeds. These calls make a very realistic sound and before your wife can run you out of the house you will master the basics.  I rely heavily on the cow call and think most of the time hunters are better off sticking with it over a bugle no matter where he is hunting. But learning how to make a basic bugle is important, especially for locating bulls at a distance before getting close and working him with your cow call. In addition, sometimes it is the bugle that finally provokes a dominant bull to commit, especially during the early season when bulls are still sorting out their peckin’ order.

Earning Your Public Ground PhD

Lets face it, unless you have deep pockets much of the private ground in the West is pretty much off limits, so you have to learn to hunt public land. This is not a bad thing as public ground comprises millions upon millions of acres across the West and happens to have some of the biggest bulls found anywhere. While it can be tougher than private, once you learn how to hunt it you won’t be disappointed. Over the years, one of my favorite places to hunt is the Gila National Forest, in New Mexico, and even though this is a trophy area tags are fairly obtainable through application. In the Gila, the trophy potential is off the chart, sporting some of the biggest bulls in the country, but just because the big ones live there doesn’t mean thatyou automatically make one call and they come running to get in the back of your truck. These mature jokers have a PhD in avoiding hunters. Over the last six years I have hunted this area religiously and have had the opportunity to shoot some nice bulls all by using elk calls as an aid to close the coffin. Notice I said, “as an aid”, meaning the call was just one thing in a bag of tricks to help smoke these monarchs. My biggest bull that came out of the Gila was a 378 P&Y bull that had earned the name Professor because he always seemed to take you to school when you applied too much pressure. However, this bull was vocal and would bugle his butt off. He also seemed to be fairly easy to find, not only by his gnarly, raspy bugle that set him apart, but frequently he could be found early in the morning in a large meadow just south of a particular water hole that always attracted a large herd. The Professor was not the only bull in the area that had large headgear, but it was The Professor that seemed to call the shots. I had caught this bull in the open several times, but calling seemed to really make him uneasy when you were in close. The Professor however would bugle hard to distant cow calls and seem to be whole heartedly interested, but had a sixth sense when you moved in for the attack. Final we decided to have a caller stay behind as we worked him coming off the meadow at daybreak. By doing this we could keep him interested and bugling as we stalked in closer. The caller always was no closer than 80 yards behind me. While the caller kept him occupied, I slid within 50 yards and gave him a G5 Tekan right behind the shoulder. This hunt was really a stalk, but the call and caller had a big part to do with his demise. Once we started quartering the bull up, we found a piece of an old arrow lodged just below the backstraps, so obviously someone had him in close before and gave the Prof and education, which explained why he was so wary.

The Double Team

As this old bull showed, hunting with a partner can work extremely well. It not only puts the hunter out in front of the call, but it gives the hunter a chance to move and adjust the angle based on where the bull might be approaching. Likewise, the caller has the flexibility to move as well and apply a lot of different calling techniques. The double team plan worked again on another hunt. It had been hot and the bulls were only bugling early and late. As soon as the sun would rise the elk woods would turn in to a ghost town.
Just after daybreak on the fourth day of our hunt we heard this bull bugle. He hit it only two times, both very weak and he sounded like the littlest rag horn in the land but with no other game in town we went after him. Getting as close as possible to where we thought the bugle came from I eased up and sat down by a pine stump while my buddy moved back and to my right about 40 yards. Neither of us were very optimistic about our chances. My buddy made one or maybe two very soft cow calls on a two reed diaphragm then he started raking a tree and rolled a few rocks. We sat there for possibly 10 minutes in silence, then out of nowhere appeared a wide 340 inch 6 x 6 coming directly to us, at 25 yards the bull let out a soft chuckle, looked over his surrounding and kept walking in the direction of where the last rock had been rolled, which led him 16 steps from my pine stump. By now I was at full draw waiting for a broadside shot. When the arrow left my bow, I knew we had killed a call shy monster by keeping it low key and staying patient. Needless to say, I was never convinced by the two times he had bugled earlier that he was a shooter. This was a lesson in itself. Never judge a bugle until you can see what is making the sound.
The most exciting way to bag a bull elk is to get him in close, and the best way to do that is with a call. Confidence in your call is critical, because if you’re insecure about using your call there is a good chance you will spook elk. Have confidence in your calling ability and become just another elk in the herd where you are hunting. Find a call that works for you and not what works for some else. Think like an elk and do as elk do. Realism, rhythm, and volume control can make the difference between bringin’ them in or running them over the next ridge. And remember its not always about calling, it can be just patiently listening to the sounds around you and applying minimal calls, while practicing good woodsmenship, and stalking skills that could help you put that monster on the back of the truck.

By Michael Waddell

This is a warning to outdoor users about a potentially deadly biological event that could result from one’s curiosity to poke at and kick through scat from wolves, coyotes and foxes. Of course not everyone knowingly does this but many hunters, trappers and simply the curious, want to know what these animals have been eating.

Back in the end of November I gave you a link to a story, “Of Wolves and Worms”. That story introduced many of us to the subject of worms being found in wolves in the Greater Yellowstone area.

According to a new study out in the October issue of the Journal of Wildlife Diseases, three-millimeter-long tapeworms known as Echinococcus granulosus, are documented for the first time in gray wolves in Idaho and Montana. And the authors didn’t just find a few tapeworms here and there… turns out that of 123 wolf intestines sampled, 62 percent of the Idaho gray wolves and 63 percent of the Montana gray wolves were positive. (Ew!) The researchers wrote: “The detection of thousands of tapeworms per wolf was a common finding.” (Again… Ew!!) This leads to the interpretation that the E. granulosus parasite rate is fairly widespread and established in the Northern Rocky Mountain wolves.

There is discussion about how some think the worms ended up in the wolves in this region but the article tends to downplay any serious concerns people should have from coming in contact with these tapeworms and the eggs they leave behind.

In the comments section of the article, Will Graves, author of the book “Wolves in Russia: Anxiety Through the Ages“, left his thoughts on his own research discoveries about the dangers to humans of these parasites.

In the first paragraph in my letter to Mr. Bangs dated 3 October 1993 on the DEIS (Draft Environmental Impact Statement) which was titled “The Reintroduction of Gray Wolves to Yellowstone National Park and Central Idaho,” I warned about the damages and problems wolves would cause to Yellowstone and other areas by carrying and spreading parasites and diseases over larger areas. Some of these parasites are damaging not only to wild and domestic animals, but can also be dangerous to humans. One of these parasites is Echinococcous Granulosus and Echinococcus M. Since 1993 I have been working to tell people what I have learned from about 50 years of research on the characteristics, habits and behavior of Russian wolves. From that research I came to the conclusion that one of the most serious consequences of bring wolves into the US would be the wolves carrying and spreading around damaging/dangerous parasites and diseases. I did my best to explain this in my book titled, “Wolves in Russia – Anxiety Through the Ages” edited by Dr. Valerius Geist. Details about my book are in my web site: wolvesinrussia.com.

After several years effort, I finally recently obtained help from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Parasitic Research Center in Beltsville, MD. This research center will try to conduct research on the blood taken from wolves in our western states. Oneparasite they will be researching is to determine if wolves carry and spread the parasite Neospora Caninum around. It is established that coyotes and dogs carry this damaging parasite.

I remember that about two years ago there was a report about one wolf carrying Echinococcus Granulosus in Montana.

Much more research is needed about the danger wolves bring to our environment. Some of the parasites carried by wolves are dangerous to humans.(emphasis added)

Around this same time that Will Graves posted his comments, he contacted me by email and asked if I could somehow be of assistance to him in obtaining blood samples from wolves taken during the Idaho and Montana wolf hunts. The word went out quickly and hopefullyGraves gets what he needs to help him in his research. This can become extremely valuable information for all of us.

In the meantime, Dr. Valerius Geist, professor emeritus University of Calgary and Dr. Charles Kay, of Utah State University, who holds degrees in wildlife ecology, environmental studies and wildlife biology, exchanged thoughts on the discovery of worms in Yellowstone wolves in emails I received.

Well, Charles? What else is new? What did we warn about, how we were censored as alarmists………………………
And yes, a colleague assured us that all that is not a problem for us, but for some native types. Nothing to worry about, really. Remember how, early on, we put out a warning – do not kick dry wolf feces or poke about in such looking for evidence of food habits. Do not handle wolf feces as it will disturb the tiny Echinococcus eggs that float up like little dust cloud to envelop you, and you are very likely to ingest some of that “dust”. This know-how, which we older Canadian types carried away from our parasitogy lessons was poo-hood by some American colleagues. Wolves are after all, harmless! Remember the question we posed: is it really such a great idea completing ecosystems when the progression is herbivores, carnivores, finally diseases and parasites?

It is not my intention nor that of Drs. Geist and Kay to attempt to instill unnecessary fear in people but to educate, as it was back in the day before wolf reintroduction. There are very important lessons and warnings that all should heed and take into consideration when in the woods or maybe even in your own back yard.

Dr. Geist emailed me the other day and asked me if I would be kind enough to post this information so that anyone and everyone will be aware of the potential for some very serious health issues.

Urgent: could you make a point of it that now, that we know that the majority of wolves are infected with Echinococcus, that all hunters control their curiosity and not poke about in wolf or coyote feces to find out what these predators ate. these feces are saturated with tiny, lightweight Echinococcus eggs that rise like dust plume from the disturbed feces and envelop the poking hunter. If the air-born eggs are ingested, the an infection is possible, and having Echinococcus cysts grow inside oneself is not a desirable condition. Trust me!

He followed that up with more information about the dangers.

As to the pathogenicity of Echinococcus granulosus: Yes, I noticed that Foayt, leaning on Raup’s research in Alaska, toned down the dangers from this northern form. My understanding based on what we learned from an old, experienced parasitologist at the University of British Columbia is that it’s nothing to fool around with. It’s serious! In my career as a biologist in touch with the north, I have heard nothing else. I have not, however, done a recent literature search. Foayte’s assessment may be on even though it conflicts with mine. Either way, getting an Echinococcus cyst of any kind is no laughing matter as it can grow not only on the liver or the lungs, but also in the brain. And then it’s fatal.

There is however, another much more alarming angle. Echinococcus multilocularis is a nightmare, and much more virulent than Echinococcus granulosus of any strain. We cannot encapsulate this cyst, and it grows and buds off like a cancer infecting different parts of the body incessantly. Were some of the wolves infected with multilocularis? Coyotes and foxes carry it and it has been spreading. Do canids in Idaho, Montana, etc. have it? It’s found in Alberta. Regardless, now is the time to send out an SOS to ALL outdoor users. Hold your curiosity in check, do not poke into the feces of wolves, coyotes and foxes. If you do you will release clouds of Echinococcus eggs which will envelop you, and you may ingest the eggs, bring the eggs home and endanger your family. This is nothing new to me and I have lived with this constraint on my curiosity for over 40 years. This is just a know how that maintains your personal and your family’s safety. Also, never feed uncooked offal to your dog as it may become infected with Echinococcus and infect you and your family. Echinococcus cysts love to be in lung and liver, and if consumed by dogs you have a health hazard on your hands. And such cysts now grow in deer and elk where you live. Somebody should take a second look searching out Echinococcus multilocularis.

You and I probably have no idea in the world whether these worms exist in the woods we hunt, trap, hike, etc. but good advice given by Dr. Geist should tell us it’s not something we should mess around with. Squelch the curiosity to dig in the poop and just assume there could be hidden danger.

I want to take a moment to thank Will Graves, Dr. Val Geist and Dr. Charles Kay for caring enough about the rest of us to be willing to share their findings and experiences.

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Todd Krater
U.S. Hunting Today
Managing Editor
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“Are you gonna make it?” my guide whispered in my right ear. I didn’t even make an effort to turn toward him, but just gave a slight nod of my head in response. I snickered to myself’ “Are you gonna make it?” he asks. Hmph, I thought! a fine time to ask me that seemingly senseless question now.

We were almost to the trailhead, and it didn’t matter that I was gulping air as if it were some type of coolant that could soothe the fire in my lungs or that my body felt like rubber from running across the face of this hell that he called a mountain. At that moment I couldn’t have held still for a steady shot if my life depended on it. And to top it off, we were up at a minimum of 10,000 feet in elevation; but it was probably closer to 11,000.

Now to some of you I am sure that 10,000 or 11,000 feet doesn’t seem like much. But it is a bit much for a flatlander whose usual habitat is 50 feet above sea level, even if he has exercised for six months prior to the hunt. (One thing I had learned on this hunt is that you are never fully prepared, no matter how much you exercise. Not when you go from 50 feet above sea level to 10,000 above sea level.)

“What”, some of you ask, “hunting Angora goats in the Rocky Mountains? Isn’t that what we used to have on the ranch when I was a kid?” Well, yes it is in one sense, but in another sense, it also isn’t. Let me back up a bit and explain how I got to be in this peculiar predicament.

During the summer of 1993 I received a call from an outfitter friend of mine inviting me to come hunt elk and mule deer with him on a Colorado ranch which he was considering purchasing. If things worked out, then he would be adding this ranch to his list of ranches that he has to offer his clients. Knowing how much I love to hunt, it didn’t really take very much to twist my arm into adding another hunting trip into my busy fall schedule. The ranch is located in the Grand Mesa region near Colbran, Colorado.

The area of the Grand Mesa’s northern slope, where we would be spending 10 days trying to find a good bull elk, is called Storm King Mountain. Even though most of the lower slopes of the mountain and the top of the mesa have fairly good roads, you must still do a lot of walking if you want to find the best game. During my stay not only would we use four wheel drive trucks and horses to get around over most of the mountain’s side in our hunting area, we would also use a lot of foot power to make our way through the aspen groves and oak brush.

The topography for this region is typical of that found in mountainous areas in that part of the country. The lower slopes have tall prairie grasses, conifers, aspens and oak brush while on top of most of the ridgelines you only had the clinging oak brush that is about knee high. This brush is so thick in some places that you have to detour around it, which adds to your time allotted for walking from place to place. Several times this thick brush made stalks, on unsuspecting game, impractical. On top of the mesa are stands of conifers and aspen mixed in with smaller oaks. Up here the oak brush doesn’t seem to be as thick, so walking is easier and quieter.

I first spotted the tiny white dots on the higher slopes of Storm King while we were chasing the illusive elk bull that we just couldn’t seem to find. When we stopped to rest in our search, I asked my guide what they white spots were, I thought that they might have been mountain goats but I wasn’t sure as I didn’t think that there were any of these high country dwellers this far south. He informed me that they were feral Angora goats and that the part of the ranch that we were now on was part of the previous owner’s exotic hunting park. He had stocked these goats and other animals here to be hunted, much like the exotic game ranches do in Texas.

It was perfect terrain for goats, steep, heavily covered in the ever-present clinging oak brush and rocky to the extent that the footing was iffy at best. My guide went on to inform me that like most animals, for example feral hogs, once these domesticated animals were turned loose, they reverted back to a totally wild state. I was intrigued, but we were after elk, so I forgot about them for the time being.

It wasn’t until we were enjoying a liquid beverage on the front porch of the ranch’s lodge later that evening in celebration of the good bull elk that I had taken earlier in the day, when these wandering rock climbers came back to my attention. I glanced up at the ridgeline over looking the valley in which the ranch headquarters is located and in the setting sun I saw those elusive tiny white dots once again. After I called everyone else’s attention to them, we dove into a discussion concerning these wary little animals.

My guide informed us that hunting them wouldn’t be that much different than hunting a true mountain goat. They liked the high, rocky and inaccessible places near the summit of the mountains and ridgelines of the surrounding country. Being hardy little creatures, they can withstand the ice and snow that hits the high country with the onset of a full blown rocky mountain winter. Consequently, with the help of their thick winter fur coats, there is very little winter die off among these animals. At this point the conversation took a turn toward the usual friendly banter that is found in hunting camps around the globe and I couldn’t resist my guide’s proposition that we once again mount the slopes of Storm King in pursuit of another of the area’s challenging wild inhabitants.

To make the event even more challenging I decided to use my in-line action muzzleloading rifle in .50 caliber which I had topped off with a compact riflescope. Along with some Buffalo Bullets and Pyrodex RS, I knew that if given the chance, this compact little rifle could be counted on to make a clean kill on one of these high country loving goats.

Now before we start our tale of the hunt, let me give you a little background on these feisty little white goats. The angoras belong to the conic horned game category. A trophy-sized billy, as recognized by the Trophy Game Records of the World, will have wide flaring triangular horns with a slight curl in excess of 30 inches, with a basal measurement of 8-9 inches and a spread of 30 plus inches from tip to tip. A mature billy will weigh from 75 to 100 pounds and stand around 25 to 26 inches at the front shoulder. The nannies will have about the same height, but usually weight 5-15 pounds lighter. The wool of both the billy and the nanny will be coarse and somewhat curly with a length of 1 1/2 to 3 1/2 inches. The coloration of an angora is usually snowy white, though other coloration variants have been noted from time to time. The last major physical characteristic of a billy is the long thick beard coming off of the lower jaw and hanging down 8-11 inches. The hide quality is very good with thick curly hair, while the meat quality of a mature billy is quite poor. Now on with the hunt!

Before light the next morning, we saddled our horses and started up the steep mountain trail once again. The light snow of the previous day had turned the trail into a quagmire of mud and mush and I wasn’t looking forward to hiking around the mountain in this muck when we tied off the horses to the brush later. I was hoping that my boots with their hard rubber knobby sole would hold out as well as they had during the dry part of the hunt.

Most of the morning was spent hiking across the face of the mountain, as our little “walk” took us through aspen groves, brush covered slopes, mountain meadows, rock slides and around frozen beaver ponds. But as usual, these animals were in the most inaccessible place on the mountain’s face. The area in which we eventually found them was almost all rockslides and small trails in the loose talus that over looked drop-offs of several hundred feet. It wasn’t my choice of an ideal place to hunt, especially since my hunt for elk had taken place on the gentler slopes of the mountain.

As we carefully choose each spot in which we put our feet while traversing a rockslide, my guide commented that several of these small white dots were only about a mile and a half away and 600 or so feet above us, up the rock slide. He asked me if I were up to the climb. After glassing them through his binoculars, he felt that two of the billys might have trophy potential and be worth a closer look. So after discussing our approach route, we decided to attempt a stalk. But to do so meant that we had to descend back into the aspens so that our approach wouldn’t be seen.

We were able to close the distance to about half a mile before our cover played out. Then after carefully glassing the goats again, we confirmed that one of the goats was definitely worth a trip up the mountain. My guide thought that he might even be in the top 10 of all angoras taken with a muzzleloading firearm, as per the records maintained by the record keeping system, Trophy Game Records of the World.

Upon glassing the surrounding terrain, we decided that I could approach to within 200 yards of him by doing a duck walk and belly crawl up a small ravine that ran next to the ridgeline that he was on. After my crawl, I would have to ease out on to a trail that we could see running up through the rock slide, as it made its way in his general direction. If I was careful, I should be able to sneak close enough to get a shot at him. This is also provided that none of the other goats in his area gave the alarm which would cause the whole group to go racing off across the steep face of the mountain and that I didn’t misplace a step which would result in me sliding down the mountainside with all of the other rocks and clods of dirt.

As I mentioned earlier, we had been racing against time and had literally run across the last mile or so of our stalk through the trees to get to our lookout position as the horses had been left behind earlier. So, when my legs and arms quit shaking and I could breath without trying to inhale the clouds, I eased into the gully to start my slow climb, after securing my rifle and shooting bag to my back with a couple of leather thongs.

The crawl up the ravine was not a major obstacle it was just time consuming. However, once I reached the trail that ran out across the face of the rockslide, I realized that we had made a bad error in judgment. What had appeared to be a trail from down below, turned out to be a thin, 2 1/2 foot wide, ledge that followed the contours of the face of the rock slide. As I slowly stood up, behind a large boulder, it also became apparent that the goats could not see me here. I glanced down at my guide and by prearranged signals he was indicating that the goats were still in the general vicinity of where we had seen them earlier.

I looked out at the trail and decided, “What the heck. I had come this far to get a goat and can’t stop now.” So I checked to make sure that my rifle and shooting bag were still secured to my back and then I eased out onto the trail.

I was able to control my forward motion by using my left hand to hang onto the roots and limbs that protruded through the rockslide. I only looked down the rockslide once and that was all it took to convince me that I didn’t want to do that again. It appeared that I was several hundred feet up and that it would be a long drop or roll down the face of the slide. I definitely didn’t want to slip and end up on the rocks below so I slowed my progress down in order to carefully place my feet on firmer footing while trying to locate the goats before they either saw or heard me.

I had made it about 150 yards out onto the trail and so far so good. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a white rock roll across the face of the rockslide. But wait that isn’t a white rock, it’s a goat, and it’s coming my way. I froze and tried to be still as the ground on which I stood. Soon several more goats appeared in front of me as I wondered what it was that they found so attractive about the solitude of the rockslide.

At this point I had no idea how I was going to position myself in order to able to make a steady shot. The ledge wasn’t wide enough for me to turn and face the goats, in a classical freehand position, nor could I kneel to attempt a shot. I quickly turned to survey the surrounding area, trying to find a solution to my problem, and noticed a small tree about five feet in front of me. I quickly determined that its overhanging limbs could serve as both a rest and provide a little cover for me to hide behind, so I eased slowly forward hoping that my actions wouldn’t be seen by the sharp eyes of the goats coming my way.

After moving in behind the little tree, I found that I would have to lay my rifle across the fork in a limb and brace myself against the rocky wall of the ledge in order to maintain my position for a shot. It wasn’t the most comfortable spot that I have ever been in, but it would have to work. Recapping my rifle, I settled it in the crotch of the fork as I prepared to take my chances with the hand that the god’s of hunting had dealt me.

Now as I turned my attention back to the goats, I couldn’t locate the big billy that we had picked out from down below but there were several groups of nannies and kids moving across the face of the rockslide now. I saw only one small, solitary billy as I continued to scan the area of the rockslide where we had previously spotted the group of larger billys.

At first I didn’t see a sign of them and then I noticed a little gray rock that was swaying back in forth. The rock turned out to be the horns on a billy that had lain down among the rocks. Upon looking closer, I could just make out the heads of several more billys in the same area. They appeared to be about 125 yards of so away. As I continued watching the nannies and kids move slowly in my direction, I wondered if they would spook before I had a chance to take a shot at one of the mature billys.

After about 15 minutes of watching, the older billys decided that it was time to join the rest of the group. They started a slow movement down the face of the rockslide after the rest of the herd. When I was able to determine that this movement would take them across my field of fire, I knew that I still had a chance to take a good specimen. So I lowered my body into a squatting position in order to elevate the angle of my barrel and waited for my chance.

The first couple groups of nannies and kids passed by above me before the first mature billy came in to my field of fire. I let him pass by unmolested at about 50 yards. The third billy in the group looked to be the best of the bunch, so I decided to try for him. Slowly, another group of nannies and kids passed by further up the slope. This group was about 75 yards away and I had to be really still so that they wouldn’t spook. Then the second and third billys stepped over the rocks and their full bodies came into view.

As they trotted to catch up with the first billy, I knew that I couldn’t make a clean shot as I wouldn’t be able to move to keep up with them and remain undetected. Then I heard a snort or bleat behind me and I froze. It was clear that some of the goats had come up behind me and had blown my cover.

As I watched, the two billys above me also froze and seemed to be watching something on the slope behind me. It was now or never. I put the cross hairs of my compact scope on the larger billy’s shoulder and squeezed the trigger.
At my shot, a thousand things happened all at once. First, the mountainside exploded with goats and I couldn’t see the billy that I had shot because of all the smoke. Then, the sudden mad exodus of the local goat population created a minor rockslide as pebbles and stones slid down the face of the rockslide after being dislodged. I was kept busy trying to protect my firearm from the falling debris while not letting go of the root that I had grabbed as a tether with my left hand. Somehow, it wasn’t as serious as it seemed at the moment and I didn’t take a final plunge down the mountain.

After the dust and smoke cleared, I looked around for my goat, but I couldn’t find him anywhere. My heart dropped like a stone at the thought of having missed my one and only chance. When further searching from my perch proved fruitless, I decided to head back to the edge of the rockslide. Maybe, with my guide’s help I should be able to locate my billy. I knew in my heart that the shot had been good. I had even heard the ‘whomp’ of the bullet as it had found its mark. So I felt certain that it would just be a matter of some good old fashion footwork now.

As I rounded the last bend in the trail before I got back to the ravine, I heard my guide yelling something at me. I looked down in his direction and saw that he was trying to get me to look up the rockslide above me. When I turned to look I saw my billy. He was about 25 yards out upon the rockslide and about 40 yards above the end of the trail. It was a small matter to attach a rope to his horns and drag him to a safer area. It was a fitting end to a very good hunt. After all, I had taken elk, mule deer and now a wild angora goat this trip.

In 2004, there were 8,648 reported accidents with vehicles involving deer in Missouri. Simple math tells us that this would cost sportsmen $2,162,000 annually.

Fiscal year 2007, collected revenue(pdf) to the Department of Conservation was $171,676,521. $31 million of that came from license buyers. To pay for this added expense would call for either cuts, increases or a combination of both. Will this once again fall on the backs of Missouri’s outdoor sportsmen? Either way wildlife conservation will suffer and in fact this move could actually end up exacerbating the problem.

Let’s suppose for a minute if we can. If there were 8,648 REPORTED deer/vehicle accidents in 2004, how many are there today? And the bigger question would be how many would now get reported (wink, wink) knowing they could claim $250 for saying they got hit by a deer. Read what the text of the bill says.

252.042. The department of conservation shall pay the owner of any motor vehicle the first two hundred fifty dollars for repair of damages to any motor vehicle that collides with a deer that is not otherwise covered by insurance. The provisions of this section shall not apply to any damage caused to a motor vehicle that involved avoiding a deer where there is no contact with a deer. The owner shall prove, by clear and convincing evidence, that such damage was caused by a collision with a deer and that at the time of the collision the motor vehicle was legally operated.

So, the owner of the vehicle has to show “clear and convincing evidence”. Interesting! Will they have to bring the remains to the Department of Conservation? Or how about bring them to Mr. Quinn’s house and let him decide. Maybe we could have victims cut off four feet? We could require them to carry a hack saw around with them. Oh, but wait, what if they hit the deer causing damage and the deer runs away, living to get hit again? There better be hair on the grill. If you don’t have any deer hair to make it look convincing, I’ll be you can get your hands on some quite easily.

Another interesting note is that no compensation will be paid to anyone who wrecks their car trying to avoid hitting the deer. So if you see one, make sure you take careful aim. $250 “bucks” (sorry, I couldn’t help myself this time) would be quick and easy beer money wouldn’t it. Say you hit a deer and you got blood, guts and hair on the grill. Then get some body shop guy say it’s going to cost, oh, let’s round it off to about $250, collect the money, say sayonara to the body shop guy (or maybe slip him an easy $50), and head on over to the beer store.

The point to all this is the ridiculousness of the whole thing. How can this at all be regulated? Oh, geez! I hadn’t thought that would could place restrictions and requirements on the deer. But what’s even bigger is the domino effect of abuse and lawsuits that will follow.

By the Department of Conservation being forced to pay for damages incurred by deer, is saying that is the Department’s fault that there are deer and in particular the sponsor of this bill probably is one of those guys who thinks that hunters cause everything – too many deer, not enough deer, sick deer, healthy deer, Lyme disease, global warming, George Bush’s stuttering problem and that Al Gore gained 600 pounds riding around on icebergs looking for endangered polar bears.

If sportsmen are to blame, at least to some degree, for deer accidents, who else can the lawyers blame and the courts agree with? Let’s start with the landowner where the accident happened. I’m sure evidence can be found that might have caused a deer to cross the road where it did, when it did. Maybe it’s a fence or a tree blew over in a recent global warming enhanced thunderstorm that the landowner had yet to clean up.

Maybe the Department of Transportation didn’t have their “deer crossing” sign in the right place. We have all heard about the idiots who complain that the deer don’t cross in the crossing zones. That has to be the fault of the DOT by not putting the sign in the right place.

The manufacturer of the vehicle has to now assume a certain amount of responsibility too. Couldn’t something have been done in the design of the vehicle to make it more “deer proof”?

Let’s not forget the family Griswolds’ who moved to the suburbs to “get away from it all” and decided it’s really fun to feed the deer. They have to be blamed. Maybe each neighborhood should be required to pay into a fund specifically for deer related accidents. After all, that deer probably wouldn’t have gotten hit if the Griswolds hadn’t of built their house there.

What’s nuts about this is that a percentage, how much I don’t know, of these accidents happen in areas where hunters aren’t allowed to hunt to reduce the numbers. If the number of deer wasn’t so high, there wouldn’t be some many accidents. If I’m going to be blamed for deer/vehicle accidents and have to pay for them, then I want to have some say in how many deer there are in the woods to run over.

Is this all just ridiculous? Of course it is. Is there no sense and sensibility left in this country? Give me a break!

Maybe it’s all good for the Motherland, comrades!

Tom Remington

I’ve written a couple times over the past few months about the CWRA (here and here) but Knight brings to the attention of American sportsmen what could await us should this act be approved.

The intent of the existing Clean Water Act was to ensure that our navigable waters remained pollution free. We have witnessed some abuses of this act through narrow interpretations by our court system. The Clean Water Restoration Act, according to Knight, goes far beyond navigable waters, leaving us to wonder just how far this regulation and court-interpreted Act would go.

In reality, the Clean Water Restoration Act (CWRA) does not “restore” the CWA. Instead, it greatly expands its scope and jurisdiction. The bill would bring federal oversight to activities that affect all “waters of the United States” as opposed to merely “navigable waters” as called for in the original CWA. “Waters of the United States” is broadly defined in the legislation to include “all interstate and intrastate waters and their tributaries, including lakes, rivers, streams (including intermittent streams), mudflats, sandflats, wetlands, sloughs, prairie potholes, wet meadows, playa lakes, natural ponds, and all impoundments.”

I spoke with Knight by phone last fall and we discussed the prospects that with enactment of CWRA and the typical efforts of environmentalists, particularly through lawsuits, hunters could be facing ridiculous restrictions on such things as constructing duck blinds, whether portable, temporary or permanent without first obtaining permits.

Knight gives prime examples in addressing foreseeable problems in the upper Midwest – some of this nation’s top waterfowl hunting grounds.

Both “prairie potholes” (depressed areas that temporarily hold rainwater and snowmelt) and “sloughs” (swampy depressions typically comprised of stagnant water or mud) are specifically named in the CWRA as “waters” that would be subject to regulation – a departure from the original Clean Water Act. As a consequence, driving posts into water and mud near a prairie pothole for construction of a duck blind could constitute discharging dredged or fill material into the “waters of the United States,” which is illegal under the CRA without a permit.11

In addition, hunters who fire shot over and near prairie potholes, lakes, rivers, ponds and wetlands could be considered polluters under the CWRA. In 1996, a U.S. District Court in New York ruled against a shooting range when it found that expended shot, even non-toxic steel shot, is considered a pollutant under the current CWA.12

But the passage of the CWRA wouldn’t just affect hunters. It could have unusual and ridiculous consequences for anglers, recreational boaters and all shooting sports. Knight says that with the wording of the CWRA, that includes virtually every place there is or has been water and leaving much of the interpretation of what would be considered a pollutant up to the courts, anything and everything that is put in the water, including the fisherman, could conceivably be prohibited.

This means trout and small-mouth bass fishermen could lose access to their favorite rivers and streams, as wading in these waters necessarily disturbs rocks and sediment, and therefore could be considered harmful to fish and other wildlife. Lead lures, sinkers or split-shot could be deemed pollutants.

Recreational boating could be restricted or banned in certain waters due to the incidental discharge of engine cooling water, bilge water, deck runoff or ballast water. In fact, environmental litigators have already struck a blow against recreational boating under the current CWA.

We already have seen the courts rule that spent lead and steel shot, as well as clay targets, from shooting ranges, for example, are deemed a pollutant. With expanded control by the government to all waters, which includes watersheds and wetlands, where will this leave shooting ranges, etc.?

EPA notes that lawsuits “have been the driving force behind most legal actions against outdoor ranges.”28 For example, in 1994, the Long Island Soundkeeper Fund, an environmental organization, successfully sued the New York Athletic Club under the CWA because the club had been operating a trap shooting range on its property. In this case, the court found that debris from clay targets and expended shot, including non-toxic steel shot, are pollutants under the CWA. According to EPA, “Based on the court’s decision… any range whose shot, bullets or target debris enter the ‘waters of the United States’ could be subject to permitting requirements as well as governmental or citizen suits.”29

More recently, Blue Eco Legal Council, an environmental organization, filed a lawsuit under the CWA against the United States Department of Justice, Coast Guard, Navy, Marines and Department of Defense, alleging that an FBI shooting range in North Chicago is endangering Lake Michigan with stray bullets.3

The majority of hunters, fishermen and outdoor enthusiasts want to keep our land and our waters clean. As a matter of fact, sportsmen have contributed over $10 billion dollars in funds used for conservation but to give the federal government, which in turn would turn interpretation over to the courts, broad and sweeping jurisdiction over “all the waters” in this country, would not only be costly but could very easily tie up the courts with ridiculous lawsuits and seriously strip hunters, fishermen, boaters, landowners and effectively every American, opportunities to enjoy the natural resources God has given us.

The Clean Water Restoration Act, at least as it is written, should not be allowed to pass. Please contact your congressmen and let them know.

Tom Remington

Remember back to the days of Little League baseball? Having spent many of my earlier years coaching, organizing the local leagues and even a stint as county Little League baseball commissioner, dealing with the kids was a cake walk. The same could not be said for the parents. Sometimes I think the authorities at each state’s fish and game department wake up some mornings and think to themselves, “Ah, Geez! I got to go to work today and listen to another unhappy deer hunter who knows more about how to put all this information together and come up with a deer hunting season that keeps everyone happy – including the deer.”

Figuring out who gets to hunt, for how long, of which sex, by which instrument and dates to pull it all off is a monumental task. Never fear, the game commission has all the help they need.

Don’t get me wrong here. I’m a hunter too and I have offered up a suggestion or two of my own that I thought would make things better. The fish and game departments are far from perfect and in some cases I think they are completely corrupt in some aspects. We as hunters need to keep these people on their toes, after all they are working for us.

So when was the last time a group of hunters actually reached consensus on issues dealing with hunting? Many times satisfaction follows success rates. In other words if I hunt this year and bag a trophy buck, what have I got to complain about? On the same token if this is the fifth year in a row that I have not even seen a buck in the woods, don’t I have plenty to complain about?

But it goes beyond anything so simple. To begin with, for whatever the reasons, and there would be no consensus on this topic either, hunters as a whole have a pretty low opinion of their fish and game departments. In an article I was reading this morning in the Joplin Globe (Missouri) the writer revealed sentiments I have heard more than I care to.

It seems the Missouri Department of Conservation is considering “revamping” the deer hunting season. As part of the process, public meetings are going to take place. Here’s what the writer had to say about this process.

I have a suspicion that what changes will be made are already being planned and that the “public meetings” are being done to win support from hunters for their willingness to listen.

That’s a great attitude. Did this come as the result of past history when it comes to such events or is this just an angry dissatisfied deer hunter sharing frustrations?

Read also what the writer says about what he believes to be the priorities of his own fish and game department.

I have watched the Missouri Department of Conservation become a real bureaucracy over the years. I have seen a great deal of mis-spending and downright corruption, and a trend toward making as much money as possible and putting less and less of it back into true game and fish management.

One thing I know will come of this attempt to revamp the deer season. Nothing will be put in place which does not provide the possibility of the same or greater number of deer tags being sold, and more revenue for the department.

This guy isn’t alone in his thoughts about fish and game. I hear this same lament everyday from both hunters and non-hunters. They believe the only objective of fish and game is to make money – more than they need to manage game animals. I know of very few hunters who think our license fees are being spent wisely. (It’s that Little League parent mentality.)

It is a shame that so many hunters feel this way toward their fish and game departments. It certainly contributes to an atmosphere conducive to disagreement.

But the writer goes on to offer suggestions he thinks will make the deer hunting in Missouri better. I so doing, we begin to see another growing problem that in some states is festering to a point where we are near gang warfare over it – special interests.

We all have our preferred methods and means in which we take to the woods but is it getting a bit out of hand? It’s one thing to have differences in how we hunt, like still-hunting, driving, tree stand, ground blinds, using dogs, baiting, preserve hunting, quality deer management and the list goes on. We have all had discussions about these methods for decades and I don’t foresee it changing anytime soon. But now the battle lines are being drawn between groups and individuals out to get their way when it comes to the weapon of choice to hunt with.

Forgive me as I know I will miss some weapons but let’s take a look a minute. Once upon a time there was a deer hunting season where in reality you killed a deer during that time with whatever you could put together to accomplish such. Of course some of those weapons have been disqualified from the list of eligible weapons.

But then we needed to make things “fair” – there’s that four-letter word I so despise. So we set aside an archery season for those hunters because they needed undisturbed woods and deer that hadn’t been chased all over the countryside by rifle hunters. This, of course, increased their “opportunities” (another overused term). What’s good for the goose I guess is good for the gander and over time each weapon methodology began requesting special privileges once again to make things “fair” and increase “opportunities”.

Now we have in the archery class, longbows, compounds, crossbows, atlatl (a primitive weapon thrown by hand) and I’m sure I’ve missed one somewhere. Switching over to guns, we have rifles, shotguns and muzzleloaders and the battle rages on about the unending list of kinds of muzzleloaders that are all different and each seeking their own hunting seasons. In some states we now have handgun deer hunting season and of course with that we have primitive handgun seasons.

I think it is wonderful that so many hunters are finding ways in which they can enhance their deer hunting experience. Let’s face it. In some states hunters have taken up different methods or choice of weapons for deer hunting in order to be able to take more deer and that is fine providing that the increased harvesting of those deer isn’t putting the deer herd in jeopardy.

The problems we face come when these individual disciplines begin demanding special privileges at the expense of others or by taking “opportunities” away from others. As I said, I’m all for hunters expanding their horizons. I’m not for them taking away my “opportunities” in order to un”fair”ly increase theirs.

Even the words “special interest” these days carry a negative connotation, usually because the demands being made by special interests are only in consideration of themselves even if it is at the expense of others. When this happens, once again we have contributed to the atmosphere of disagreements.

One of the biggest outcries I hear these days comes within the ranks of muzzleloaders. Some are demanding that certain kinds of muzzleloaders be banned for use during so-called “muzzleloader” deer hunting seasons. After all, there are primitive flintlock weapons, the not so primitive black powder that utilizes a firing cap instead of flint, inline muzzleloaders, etc., etc.

Arguments abound over whether optics should be allowed on “primitive” weapons, including bows.

With increased technology driven by demand from hunters for new gimmicks and gadgets, the disagreements will continue. Along with each new invention will more than likely come the increased demand for more “opportunities”. But at what expense?

When you combine the attitudes of more hunters with more special interests with those that perceive the fish and game departments as only caring about how much money they can make, it all sounds like there’s not much hope for a promising future. I think that if we can find a way to enjoy our new-found hunting method without demanding more attention by taking it away from others, it would go a long way to increase better relations between hunters. With that, more energy and effort can be put toward better game management from our fish and game.

Tom Remington