Three Magical Days: Part II- First Turkey Hunt

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Turkey hunting tends to get us up early. Normally, it feels like a death march from bed to the kitchen. But not the other day. I practically sprang from bed, not having slept very soundly all night. It was my daughter’s first-ever day of turkey hunting. 

Unfortunately, due to her busy teenage schedule, it would be the only full day we would have this spring to devote to hunting. After that, the best we could expect was to piece a few hours together here and there. It felt to me like a lot of pressure to make the most of the day, not that there was any way to influence the outcome. 

But not everything was working against us. There was far more working in our favor. 

The chosen spot was in a comfy deer stand on land that has been in my mom’s family for generations. It’s in a natural funnel between a lake and a big dirt field, on a travel route for deer and turkeys. My dad had been receiving numerous trail camera pictures of various birds— single hens, groups of hens, unidentified turkeys. Plus, he picked off one jake from a group of four the previous week, leaving the other three to return at a later time.

When Dad said, “They’ve been coming through in the midday. I think you have a really good chance if you can sit there all day long,” it was a real confidence boost. Most of the time it feels like stumbling around in the dark; rarely do I have a good lead on turkeys. I tried not to reveal my excitement, lest it leave my daughter overly disappointed if she be left with an unused tag.

The morning started out warm and windy, over-60-degree breezes knocking our caps off as we stepped outside in the dark. Once in the stand, not much could be heard besides geese as they rocketed past. 

So much for hearing her first gobble. 

Already at 6:30, we had our first sighting. “Dad, there’s a turkey.”  

She was calm. I was not. 

I strained from my seat to see past the ancient oak tree out the south window. When it came into view, it was easily identified as a hen. Small. Brown. Slender, curving neck. No beard. 

We relaxed again on our seats. I urged her to watch that hen, to observe her habits and the way she moved. It was a good opportunity to point out how, even when they seem nonchalant, turkeys don’t let their guards down. 

That bird didn’t seem to find much to eat. Though she was looking intently, she didn’t peck at anything more than a couple times. This continued as she wound past us, and into and through the cemetery. I had to wonder if she would return eventually, perhaps with a bearded friend in tow.

To see a lone hen was slightly disappointing, but I took it as a good sign. My philosophy is that if hens are around, gobblers will probably be also. I resumed vigilance, feeling as though a glowing red head would appear at any moment. 

A couple hours later, the sky to the west looked rather ominous. The stiffer gusts shook our plywood house. Literally the same second I wondered about hazardous weather, my pocket buzzed. It was Mom. 

“Severe thunderstorm warning. It’s near Eagle Lake and coming toward you!”

We packed up a couple things and hightailed it back to the car. Not knowing how long it might last, we went the few miles back to my folks’ house. 

By the time I could pull up and study the radar, it was apparent the worst was over. 

Upon return, it occurred to me how extremely casual that little detour in our day was. Taking an hour out of my hunt like that would normally have eaten me up. But I didn’t mind. It didn’t matter because an air of inevitability hung over the whole day. 

My girl was going to get her bird. 

The wind continued to pummel us. One of the decoys literally spun in circles. Sleep deprivation wore us down. 

Around 3:30, a bowl of soup sounded good. Out came the isobutane stove and kettle. 

I like those gut-rot instant ramen, and just making one is a good way to break the tedium and keep the mind occupied. My deer stand usually smells like cheap chicken soup at least once a day, so why not the turkey stand?

When I had gotten the water poured and stove lit, I sat up in the chair and glanced out the north window. 

Turkey, sneaking through the woods. 

“There’s a turkey over here,” I hissed as I bent over to shut off the stove. I didn’t see if it was gobbler or hen, but rather expected it to be the early bird returning.

“No, there’s three!”


That’s when I knew it was happening. 

As we’d already talked about at length, I reminded her not to stick her gun out of the window too quickly, to be shrewd about her movements. 

She did well. 

But just before the first two jakes reached the decoys, one became suspicious. I couldn’t tell why, but they were obscured by trunks and branches, so she couldn’t quite get a shot. They began to amble away, stiff-necked. 

My heart pounded in my ears. 

“That one on the left— when he gives you a shot, take it.”


He hit the leaves with real conviction. We rejoiced and laughed and hugged. 

I texted my folks, who said they’d be out shortly for taking pictures and such. They probably knew they weren’t needed to take pictures, but were obviously excited and positively nothing could have convinced them to stay home. 

There were many pictures. A girl doesn’t get her first turkey every day, after all. There were standing pictures and sitting pictures. Turkey on rock, turkey on log. Turkey on another log. Turkey over shoulder. 200 exposures later, we packed up and marched out through the old cemetery one last time. 

My mom expressed how happy her grandmother would be to know her great granddaughter took a turkey from her land.

”She would really think that is something.”

By her remark I could tell she had been contemplating such a wondrous and wonderful thing, and how proud she was. I imagine she was moved by deep feelings surrounding family, connection to the land, and legacy.

I know I was. 


The Year of Untouchable Bucks

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Hanging some antlers on the wall is a dream that sparkles in every deer hunter’s eye. Unsurprisingly, big bucks dominate deer hunting marketing and media. I will admit I’m not immune to the images and hype.

But at this time in my life, my main priorities each deer season are observing tradition, pursuing new experiences, and doing all I can to secure meat for my family. My 2020 deer hunt embodied those three as much or more than any other, spread across two weeks and three distinct settings. Continue reading “The Year of Untouchable Bucks”

Do Something New: Minnesota State Park Deer Hunt

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It all started about two years ago. My deer season had almost passed without a single deer sighting. I’d spent two rainy days in a deer stand on private property, then one especially frigid day hoofing it on state forest land. If it weren’t for the good fortune of my brother and dad, we’d have been short on meat for the year.

Continue reading “Do Something New: Minnesota State Park Deer Hunt”

Product Review: Irish Setter VaprTrek Boot

It all started in 2014. A great pair of leather boots had given up the ghost and I needed something new. Another pair of leather boots seemed a good idea, but with all the walking I do in the bird hunting season, I didn’t want anything too heavy. One boot caught my attention, marketed as light in weight and tough as nails. I’d never owned anything in kangaroo leather before, so who was I to doubt their claims? 

Well, I should have. Astonishingly, I wore those boots out in just one October. The leather in the toes completely disintegrated, and the waterproof layer underneath could clearly be seen. I regret to this day I didn’t take pictures, but I was livid as I packed up the box. I wanted them out of my sight. Ever since then, I’ve been in search of a boot that could stand up to the way I hunt.  Continue reading “Product Review: Irish Setter VaprTrek Boot”

Do Something New: Quarter and Pack Out a Deer

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I’ve long dreamed of hunting in the mountains, spending days climbing, glassing, and stalking. This kind of trip has always seemed quite accessible to me, except for one aspect: getting the meat out of the woods. It would be impractical to expect to drag a deer back to the truck. Foolish, really, and out of the question with an elk. So that would mean quartering and packing the animal out. This is nothing to the hunter on horseback, or even one who is accustomed to doing it. Continue reading “Do Something New: Quarter and Pack Out a Deer”

Video Log


My Public Lands: 2018

After the Public Lands Day rally at the state capitol rotunda last year, it seemed like a good idea to keep track of my public land usage until the next rally rolled around. I normally visit a lot of state and federal public lands throughout the year, but never kept a record, and so never really knew the extent of my own personal use. My mission to document my outings proved not only enlightening, but also spurred me on to go new places and try new things. 

The following is a visual representation of my visits- as well as my varied activities- on Minnesota’s public lands since last April. You may notice that not every single day or visit is represented by a photograph. For instance, some photographs represent an activity carried out on several different parcels, at noted. Likewise, some outings occurred on many different days, such as foraging in Chippewa National Forest and George Washington State Forest throughout the summer and fall. I only wish I had remembered to bring my rally sign with me every time; regrettably, there are some gaps in coverage. 

Our public lands, as you can see, are important to me throughout the year for camping, fishing, hunting, foraging, educating my children, and much more. If you are so inclined, please consider joining the Public Lands Day rally at the Minnesota state capitol February 7th, at 3:00. Thanks, and get outside. 

C.C. Andrews State Forest, Kettle River

Sucker fishing and camping, Cloquet Valley S.F. and CC Andrews S.F., April 2018 Continue reading “My Public Lands: 2018”


Read More Minnesota deer hunting

The Deer Hunt

It was the third day of deer season. My dad, my brother, and I were done hunting and were standing around by the new blind I’d been sitting in. I glanced westward and noticed somebody in blaze orange walking straight toward us across a neighboring soybean field. Having no idea who it was and what they might want, we went to meet him at the property line. When we got close enough to each other, I could see he was wearing a badge that identified him as a state conservation officer. He introduced himself as Jeremy, we shook hands, and I invited him across the fence so we could talk properly. He asked us about the hunt and checked our licenses.  Continue reading “Compliance”

Do Something New: Spot & Stalk Duck Hunting

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It all started on an October morning, almost a year ago: I was cruising up highway 65 with my dog Johann for an overnight grouse hunting outing in the McGregor/McGrath area. I’d had too much coffee and, well, had to go.

How bad? Well, I knew I wouldn’t make it to my destination, only about 5 miles distant. So I stopped at the first opportunity, a small area to pull off the highway next to a drainage ditch. As I hurried down the berm next to the ditch, a pair of wood ducks made my heart stop when they flushed from under the bank next to me. This of course hastened the inevitable. Luckily, I didn’t end up needing a change of clothes. But the combination of surprise, discovery, and frantic zipper work cemented that moment in my memory and sparked an idea.  Continue reading “Do Something New: Spot & Stalk Duck Hunting”