Wyoming Antelope 2011: Part 2

Saturday 9-23

We meet in the lobby of the hotel for the free breakfast before heading out to scout for the Sunday, September 24, opener.  Sunny and I eat breakfast and Michael and Chet are slow to get moving….I’m seeing a trend here.  The biscuits and canned gravy are actually an improvement from the shit we had the day before in Nevada and I can’t wait for a good parking lot cooked MHC meal.  We finally get to scouting and there are antelope everywhere.  Wyoming must be the center of the antelope universe.  Everywhere we look here are ‘lopes.  There are in fact so many ‘lopes in Wyoming; I think the locals give them a bad name.  We talk with some locals who don’t think they taste very good, but others say they taste great.  I’m thinking most people just don’t know how to cook.

Michael drives us around the areas he and Chet scouted while they were there a few months back during Frontier Days.  Michael has been coming to Wyoming for years to visit friends and party at the annual Frontier Days, a rodeo and large celebration of everything Wyoming.  It was pretty cool to see the lay of the land and pretty sweet to be hunting in a totally different environment than anywhere I had ever hunted.  It was totally different from California or Indiana, my regular stomping grounds.  We see hundreds of antelope.  I’m still sick but don’t care because I’m seriously jazzed after looking around at this new place.  We see lots of likely spots, and from all the ‘lopes we see, it looks like tomorrow will be interesting to say the least.

We make spaghetti in the parking lot of the Super 8 parking lot that night.  Of course, I forgot all the meatballs[1] I made special for the trip… so we have to stop at a Safeway and Michael ends-up buying some horrible Italian sausages made by Hillshire Farms, which taste more like hot dogs than Italian sausages.  Who would think the Safeway in Caspar Wyoming, wouldn’t have good sausages… anyway we eat big piles of pasta knowing that in the morning there will me a lot of dragging and walking.  

Sunday 9-24

Go time.  Everyone wakes up on time and we meet in the lobby.  We hork down some breakfast and are loaded into the truck ready to kill by about 5:00.  We get to the spot about 5:30.  We are the 3^rd or 4^th car in the line.  It reminds me of hunting the California refuges for ducks.  Tons of guys waiting to get into the hunting area on the Eastgate Ranch, jaw jacking and telling lies.  The Eastgate Ranch is a privately owned ranch that is part of the state operated hunter access program.  The ranch is huge, 15,000 acres plus, and is crawling with ‘lopes.  We had to plan in advance to hunt this area and hats off to level headed Clark for doing a lot of the research about this hunt and finding the Hat 6 hunting area.  The Hunter access program pays private landowners 16 bucks for each antelope killed on private lands in exchange for opening up their lands to hunters.  It seems to work really well as there are a lot of these areas around the state.  If you consider doing a Wyoming antelope hunt and don’t really care about the size of the horns, I would recommend these private lands hunter management hunts.  Most of them sell out so you need to apply before the season for the tags, usually in Late Winter or early spring.

We wait around and finally the Game Worden shows up, and lets us know the gates don’t open until 7.  He is a cool guy and checks to make sure everyone has their permission slips printed out from the internet.  I shake his hand and introduce myself and Sunny to him.  His name is Brian Olsen (Norse stock from Minnesota), and I can tell right away that he is cool.  Totally good guy and he is about to get way cooler than I could ever imagine.

So finally, about 6:30 or 7, the gates on the ranch open and it is on.  We are hunting.  We follow all cars in front of us.  Most of the guys in the other trucks around us have been here before and know what they are doing.  We are seeing ‘lopes from the truck.  Some rednecks are jumping out of the trucks and going right at the ‘lopes, which is totally legal as long as you are in the hunting area.  We don’t really want to shoot anything from the trucks… we keep driving.

We find a good spot and Sunny and I take the high road while Chet and Michael take the low road.  There are lots of shots in the distance.  About 20 minutes into our hunt Sunny spots a nice looking buck sky-lined a few ridges over.  He is more than a thousand yards from us, but already is looking our direction.  He also is about to get surprised by Michael and Chet.  Sunny and I decide to try and intercept him once Michael and Chet jump him up, and Michael indeed finds him.  The plan works…. Michael jumps him up and gets an off-hand shot off at him, but misses.  The buck is a nice one and he is running toward us.  Sunny needs to get into position one ridge over to intercept him.  Sunny sprints to the edge of his ridge… I have never seen a Dego with a Model 70 run so fast.  He makes it to the ridge just in time as the ‘lope also makes it…

I’m behind Sunny about a hundred yards or so… I see the buck coming and Sunny gets down to one knee and has his shooting stick ready.  I can tell he is out of breath from the 200 yard sprint and getting a bead on the ‘lope is difficult.  Finally, the buck stops running and is looking directly back at Sunny and myself.  The buck is perfectly broadside.  Sunny drops the hammer on him and puts a great shot on a broadside buck at 200-250 yards.  He hit the buck well and from the sound of the bullet whack I could tell it was a money shot.  The ‘lope runs about 60 yards and piles up.  It did a half dead antelope flip and we have the first MHC ‘lope in the bag 20 minutes into our hunt. 

After we take a few flicks, I leave Sunny to the gutting duties.  I make a large circle around Sunny looking for more ‘lopes.  I see some does, but can’t get a good shot off at them.  I keep hunting around and see more ‘lopes in the distance.  I decided it was about time to start dragging Sunny ‘s ‘lope and I start heading back to where he shot it.  I get to about 50 years from Sunny when we get rushed by about 30 lopes… they are running away from other hunters and are hauling ass uphill broadside to us…..

I pick out a nice buck from the group and try a running shot at 200 plus yards.  I shoot and hit the buck.  It was not a good shot.  I knew I hit the buck but not where.  I look for my buck, there is no blood. I’m sure I hit it.  After the shot the buck ran huge circles around us.  He kept getting lower and lower like he was going to fall over, but just kept running.  Finally he disappears over the hill.  Sunny and I feel he should be just over the hill dead.  We don’t find him. 

In the mean time Michael finds a buck to shoot and he kills a small buck.  He actually thought it was a doe and shot it dead at 200 yards or so.  He actually missed it the first time at 300 plus yards and it ran toward him.  He had to shoot it out of self-defense.  Anyway, he gets it gutted and starts the drag.  I keep looking for my buck but it becomes quickly apparent I didn’t hit my buck very well.  The Chet has missed a few ‘lopes already and he’ll continue to keep missing for the next few days.

I walk back to the truck and drive to pick-up Sunny‘s and Michael’s bucks.  We get back to the parking lot and are admiring the ‘lopes when Brian the warden shows up.  He wants to check the goats but needs to find a wounded buck he saw running towards the highway.  Brian knows about where the buck is going.  I tell him I wounded a buck just down the way and he says…that’s your buck!  Get your gun and get in my truck.  He says we are going to get your buck.  Brian drives rally car style over the graveled ranch roads all the way to the other side of the ranch and then on the paved road approximately 8-10 miles all the way around the ranch.  So we get over there and he gets a call about trespassers on the ranch adjacent to the Eastgate Ranch.  He takes me to the general area where the buck was.  We run into an old timer who also has a buck down.  The old timer is actually from Sacramento and it turns out he knows a bunch of the same people I do.  The old timer saw my buck on his way out and tells me the general area it went.  He also tells me I was successful in blowing its back leg nearly clean off and that the buck is still really moving and he could not get a shot off at it.  So, I start after my buck which has crossed onto some private lands.  Brian goes to knock on the door of the landowners (who he knows) to let them know I’m out there after a wounded buck.  Brian lets me know he is going to hang around for a while and help the old man get his ‘lope out.  I hike about 1000 yards from the road and see a buck another 1500 yards up a valley.  The buck is in bad shape dragging his hind-leg.  I have to crawl to the back side of the valley that will parallel the valley the buck is in.  I start fast hiking knowing that wounded buck won’t hold still for long.  I get to about where I think he is and he is flushed out of his valley and into mine by some other hunter 500 yards away from him.  I shoot him running again, this time hitting him in the spine from about 150 yards.  The new .257 Weatherby rips a huge hole in his back.  I’m a little annoyed with my shot placement, but at least the tough guy is dead and I’m please he is not suffering.  Due to the shot placement much of the best part of the short loin is rendered inedible, which is unfortunate.  Brian hears my shot and after a few minutes here he comes with the old timer in the truck.  I get the ‘lope cleaned up and loaded up and Brian tells me to get in the back of the truck.  He gives me a lift back to the old timer’s truck parked on the other side of the property.  I’m riding in the back of and open bed truck owned by the state of Wyoming….I love this state. 

I just keep thinking this dude Brian rocks.  Now that he has totally helped me out, he says, “Joe now it is time for you to help me out….”

We drop off the old timer at his truck and now it is time to chase trespassers.  We make it to the trespassers who are rolling around in a huge white van… they all have huge beards and are wearing Big Smith overalls and they look like they are straight out of deliverance country.  I joke with Brian, saying these guys look like they’re from the Ozark’s deep woods.  When we get close to their vehicle, sure as shit, they have Missouri plates.  Brian writes them 2 tickets for $220 each.  I talk with some of the Ozark guys while we take blood samples from the ‘lopes.  I could only understand about every 3^rd word out of their mouths through the thick Ozark accents.  The blood samples are for a graduate student studying the effects of blue tongue on antelope and deer in Wyoming. 

Brian and I keep driving around the ranch checking ‘lopes and taking blood samples.  Basically, I’m in charge of taking all the data for the blood samples.  I fill out the informational sheet for every animal.  I record the date, sex, age, name of hunter, and location for each animal.  It was actually pretty cool work.  We take about 30 blood samples in 2 hours.  We finally, get back to where Michael and Sunny are sitting near my truck in the truck’s shade.  It is hot.  I joke with Brian that the 2 Darryl-lects sitting in the truck’s shade have probably been drinking beers since we left.  Brian laughs and says, “well that’s what I’d be doing if I were them….”

Michael and Sunny have already taken their bucks to the processer.  We take a few more flicks of my buck and some with Brian. 

I’m still sick and after Brian leaves I throw up behind the truck.  Michael, Sunny and I decide we better get this ‘lope into the processer as it is almost 80 degrees out.  We leave The Chet to keep hunting.  I’m not sure how many shots Chet has taken today, but it has been at least 4.  We get to Dan’s Meats and meet the skinner Will.  Will is a piece of work, built like a tank, not very smart, strong as hell and dumber than a brick.  He is a Wyoming meat head like none other.  He is apparently hung-over from some party he went to the night before.  He is covered in ‘lope blood and has been skinning ‘lopes all day.  He takes a huge dip with his bloody fingers… at some point during the multiple trips to the processer he tells Chet he is going to stalk him, Chet is scared for his life.  I think if we get into a bar fight in this town I really hope Will is on our side.  Will is a piece of work. 

So, with 3 ‘lopes in the bag for the first day we head for the hotel.  Chet has shot at a whole bunch of ‘lopes today, but has yet to hit one…

At the hotel we make dinner, Michael has a tri-tip and makes homemade mashed potatoes and we grill out in the parking lot of the Super 8.  A home cooked meal on the tailgate of the Batmobile with good friends and a cold beer is a great way to close out our first day of Wyoming antelope hunting. 

We find a great drive-thru liquor store/bar and grab some yellow-bellies, not my favorite beers but hey, they are wet and it’s hot and we’re trying to save the MHC dollars for lodging and gas.  We make a note that the sign for the bar/ drive-thru liquor store has 25 cent wings for football games…..Oh, we will be back.  We are all pretty tired and go to bed about midnight.  I still don’t sleep.  Stay tuned for part 3 in the next few days.

[1]  Joe’s Deer Camp Meatballs- Meatballs are great for hunting trips or at home and I make them mostly from game sausage we make during our yearly MHC sausage fest.  Anyway, I’ll blog about our next sausage fest sometime after duck season. Meatballs (balls) store very well in the freezer, and I usually make them before a trip and keep them frozen until the trip.  Your balls can be made many different ways; you should experiment with whatever you have on hand when the moment strikes to make them.  My  basic balls recipe( which is very fluid based on what is in the freezer at the time) reads something like this:

1 pound ground game (venison, antelope, elk whatever you have on hand)

1 pound spicy wild boar bulk sausage or spicy Italian pork sausage from store

1 pound spicy sundried tomato, or spicy Italian duck bulk sausage (can be replaced with ground lamb or more game or more sausage)

2 large handfuls bread crumbs

2 eggs

1 Medium onion diced fine

1 bunch flat leaf parsley chopped fine

A few shakes red pepper flakes

A few shakes salt

A few shakes black pepper

4-6 cloves diced garlic

A few dashes dried oregano or a few sprigs fresh. 

Mix the balls together well with your hands.  Get your hands in the meat and mix it really well.  Your hands will be very cold.  Now, form the balls no smaller than the size of a racquet ball, but no larger than a baseball.  I like a spicy large size meatball.  Fry the balls in olive oil or olive oil/vegetable oil mixture on medium high heat until cooked through.  Be careful to control the heat and not burn off the olive oil.  It is easier to cook with vegetable oil as it will not burn as readily, but olive oil tastes better.  When done frying, freeze your balls or add balls to your favorite sauce and serve over your favorite pasta.  If you have leftover balls and sauce, eat them on a roll in a sandwich with pepperchinis, red onions and mozzarella cheese yum!

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Wyoming September 2011, with the Midtown Hunting Crew.

Now that you guys know the members of the Midtown Hunting Crew (MHC) and what we’re all about, the next few posts will be about our great time in Wyoming hunting pronghorn antelope, antilocapra americana.  Pre-historically, there were 12 different species of antilocapra calling North America home.  Antilocapra americana are the only species left.  They range throughout much of the Western part of the U.S. and also exist in small numbers in Northern Mexico.  Their diet is made up of grass, sage brush and sedges.  The pronghorn is the fastest animal in North America and can run more than 50 miles an hour.  The only animal faster is the African Cheetah, the fastest on the planet.  Predation of pronghorn is most often done by coyotes, bob cats, mountain lions, and in late September 2011, me, Mike, Chet and Sunny.

Typical pronghorn habitat in and around Casper Wyoming. September, 2011 

For various reasons, Ray, Oggie, Clark and Marshall could not or did not want to go on the Wyoming trip and I think it is safe to say they regret they could not go.  We cleaned house and it was a boat-load of fun.  I’m glad we chose antelope as the first MHC animal, for multiple reasons including but not limited to high success rates, great opportunity for new hunters, good eating, and downright fun.  Wyoming is a great place to hang-out and hunt.  Everyone we met was way cool and was really glad to welcome out of state hunters.  That kind of surprised me -- even the game wardens were cool with us, as you will come to learn in the next few posts.  So here goes in 4 parts….

Part 1: Thursday 9-22 and Friday 9-23: The MHC Hits the Highway

I’ve been sick for the last few days with a really bad cold and have not been sleeping at all.  I’m pretty worried about getting the rest of the MHC members sick on the trip, which starts today.  I go to the Doc and get a ‘script for antibiotics.  I’m hacking pretty well and now I’m leaving and Monica has come down with my cold.  I’m thinking whoever rides with me in the Batmobile[1] is getting sick for sure…

I make it to the doctor, get the oil changed, the power steering fluid changed and the rear differential serviceb on the Batmobile.  She is in tip-top shape…until I realize my spare tire is flat.  So, I go over to the Alfa shop and Sunny fills the spare with air and fixes the seized spare lock with trusty “Lucile”, some kind of crazy air hammer.  So, the Batmobile is ready.  The old truck ran like a charm, with the exception of the limp-dick after market cruise control that would not hold the truck at speed.  I guess after 13 years, all you can get is out of aftermarket cruise control additions.  Regardless, I still like the old Batmobile and she continues to be a work horse for the MHC….

The Batmobile and the Prius outside the Rifleman Bar in Rawlins Wyoming. That dude with the Bacon strips tee-shirt is our president Sunny September, 2011.

Michael and Chet show up at my house about 6:30 pm and we get the Prius (yes, we hunt out of a Prius sometimes and still have HUGE hunting balls) and the Batmobile packed.  Clark shows up and gives us about half the MHC fund to spend on the trip.  We collectively decided to spend it wisely.  It is agreed Michael will be in charge of the MHC funds and he did a great job.  We basically used all the MHC funds for gas, food and lodging.  We estimated the costs for all this nearly perfectly, except for the gas and lodging part.  We spent a little more than expected on gas and lodging.  Next trip we’ll have to do a few things differently and save even more.  All in all, it was pretty sweet -- we spent less than 500 bucks a man for the trip including gas, food, and lodging, but not including our tags.

The Prius average fule consumption of 47 mpg.  A great road tripin machine.

So, we finally hit the road about 6pm on Thursday 9-22.  We’re burnin’ dinosaur bones and the Batmobile is chewin’ up miles of asphalt.  We make it to Elko, NV where we stop for a few hours rest.  Sunny and I figure we shouldn’t bother with getting a hotel room and the 4 of us crash in the vehicles.  We end up in a Walmart parking lot for the night; big box stores are good for something.  I’m still really sick and don’t sleep at all.  At first light, I’m outside the truck and everyone is sleeping…I’m hacking up a huge hunk of lung butter….

Sunny wakes up (probably due to the disgusting noises I’m making) and we decide coffee and breakfast is in order.  I make an attempt to wake up Chet and Michael by throwing change at the Prius.  The turd-burglers[2] won’t get up.  Sunny and I decide to leave them and stake-out a breakfast spot.  We find a restaurant that advertizes homemade biscuits and gravy…we are thinking hell yes.  After a horrible breakfast, Sunny and I still have not heard a peep from Michael and Chet.  They were seriously tired.  Finally, Michael and Chet show up and head for the restaurant’s bathroom together.  So, this is where things start getting strange.  Michael and Chet are in there forever.  The server watches them come in and knows we are waiting for our Daryl-lect[3] friends, to wake up.  She watches them go directly into the bathroom.  20 minutes go by, and Michael and Chet are still in the bathroom together.  30 minutes go buy and the servers are talking among themselves about the 2 guys with California plates that went into the bathroom together and have still not come out.  The server comes by our table and asks Sunny if Chet and Michael are okay in there together…

Finally, they come out and get something to eat.  Sunny and I think they were probably giving each other sponge baths and also comment if they get us kicked out of here they will most definitely win a joint Darryl-lect award.[4]  We finally hit the road sometime after 9 am on Friday the 23^rd of September, leaving Elko, Nevada bound for Wyoming.

Friday 9-23

After leaving the restaurant, we are again burning dinosaur bones and crapping out asphalt.  We finally get the hell out of Nevada, which seems like it takes forever.  While we were in Nevada, Sunny and I spot the first antelope of the trip from the truck at approximately 80 mph.  Now we’re in the land of Mormons: Utah.  We stop for gas at a little spot and they have jalapeño cheese curds.  I have to buy them.  We motor and keep on truckin’.  We find another good stop at a BBQ joint for lunch somewhere in Wyoming just after crossing the Wyoming/Utah line.  It was pretty good grub for no-wheres-ville.  We finally reach the Rawlins turn-off; this is where Sunny and I head to Caspar, while Michael and Chet keep trucking to Dave B.’s house to borrow another 4x4.  It is nice we have another 4x4 for the hunt, it is even better this bad-boy also has Wyoming plates… we just got more street-cred[5] with the locals.  Dave B is a friend of Mike W’s who is a fellow hunter and lives in Cheyenne.  This was awesome of Chet and Michael to make the extra 2 hour drive to Cheyenne.  As it turned out we only used the 4x4 a few times, but had it rained it would have been very necessary and I was glad we had 2 vehicles with 4x4 and one with Wyoming plates that held all of us.  It was a great hook-up that saved us a lot of $$ having a truck to borrow for our hunt…if we had not had it we would have spent a lot more $$$$ in gas to get out there.

Sunny and I arrive at the Super 8 hotel and we check-in.  Dave B. hooked us up with his corporate rate of 55$ a night.  The normal rate is 74$ a night for everyone else, but we got a discount because Dave houses his workers there when they have jobs in Casper.  We get settled in and it is after dark, about 9 pm.  Chet and Mike are just now picking up the borrowed truck in Cheyenne and are hitting the road to meet up with use at the hotel.  About 11:30 I finally get a phone call from Michael and Chet.  They have made it to Casper, but are at the wrong Super 8 hotel.  Who knew they have two Super 8 hotels in a town of only 55,000 people?  Casper is actually the second largest city in Wyoming.  After the boys finally figure out how to get to us it is after midnight.  Chet and Michael decided it would be prudent to get something to eat across the street at the Walmart.  They bring home frozen “gut bomb” burritos and hot pockets -- a great thing to eat the day before you go scouting for ‘lopes while confined to a truck with your friends.  Michael and Chet use the remaining jalapeño cheese curds and melt them on top of the frozen burritos—smart!-- in the hotel microwave.  They swore it was good the next day, between cleaning out their drawers. 

Stay Tuned for more on the Great Wyoming trip of 2011 with the MHC.

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[1] Bat-mobile- Noun.  The truck, also known as a Ford Stranger with flare-side bed, cap over the bed, and a large basket rack on the roof.  Most often parked in Joe Navari’s driveway or at the Rubicon Brewing Company; Joe’s other office.

[2] Turd-burgler (s)- Noun.  Disparaging way to refer to one’s friends.  Examples include: The turd-burgler forgot to bring his deer tags. Or Turd-burgler, bring me a beer! 

[3] Darryl-Lect- Proper Noun or regular Noun or sometimes adjective.  The term was developed on a past MHC trip to describe an individual who is not pulling his weight, or is derelict in his duties, or is in general a dumb-ass. Darryls can also come from different geographical areas and are known to the MHC as Hill-Darryls, City-Darryls or the rare, but not yet extinct Sea-Darryls. 

[4] Darryl-Lect Award. Proper noun.  The Darryl-Leyct award is named after some dumb guy named Darryl Oggie hired to help him paint houses years ago.  Apparently, Darryl was a derelict and never showed up on time, was a drunk, and smelled kind of funny.  The MHC found an old miners helmet that became the Darryl-Lect award.  If the group decides you win it, you get your name written on it and the place you win it written on the helmet.  Past Darryl-Lect award winners have been in car wrecks on their way to hunting trips (Ray-Ray), have forgotten all the food for the weekend (me), and have passed out drunk next to their own poop (The Chet)…

[5] Street-cred- Noun.  Credibility on a local level.  The Darryl-lect has street-cred because his truck has Wyoming plates and the locals think he is from the state.  Another example would be if you are really a die-hard Bears fan but wore a Packers hat into a bar in Green Bay; this would give you street-cred.

My Wolf Pack, the Midtown Hunting Crew Part 2: The Organization

So, before taking you all on a Midtown Hunting Crew (MHC) adventure to Wyoming, I wanted to give you a few more tid-bits about how our group is organized if you can call it organization.  Our mission or quest, that does change from time to time, currently reads something like this: 

The members of the MHC are dedicated to finding good places to hunt and fish, drinking beers, and cooking and eating great meals for the betterment of ourselves and others. On this quest we will see the lands, animals and people that make our nation great.  This quest will also conserve, protect and sustain wildlife and the places they call home by hook, by arrow or by bullet.     

There are three volunteer positions within the MHC the president, the general council, and the treasurer.

The MHC president is always the newest member of the group.  The president is responsible for having regular meetings and keeping order during said meetings.  Sunny is currently the newest member and therefore our president.

Sunny's 2011 buck.

The MHC general council is Marshall.  Marshall is an attorney and actually passed the California bar.  He keeps us clean and writes all of or legal documents and proclamations on our semi-private facebook page.  Marshall drafted our by-laws and charter. 

Marshall and the varmit duck hunting 2010

The treasurer is responsible for the dollars.  This job is huge and we are lucky to have a Clark, known throughout the hinterlands for his money making and keeping experience, in the crew to handle these duties.  Clark is the treasurer and keeps our game and financial records.

Clark with a nice brown trout from the honey-hole.

You might be wondering how an organization with our mission actually has funds to spend and why they need a treasurer; well we all basically contribute to the fund.  The MHC funds various things we do with a self imposed taxation system that raises funds for the group to spend on trips, donations to conservation causes, and community property that we all use during outdoor exploits.  The funding system basically works like this:

1.       If you miss an archery shot on a game animal, you owe the fund 5$.

2.       If you miss an archery shot during a competitive tournament or event, like a 3D shoot or other shooting event, you owe 5$ for each miss.

3.       If you miss a shot on a game animal with a rifle you own the fund 10$.

4.       If you kill archery game animal, all the fellow members have to pay into the fund.  For example, if Joe shoots a whitetail deer with his bow, the rest of the crew has to pay 10-20$ into the fund for the kill.  If Joe shoots a turkey with his bow, the cost to the rest of the members is 5$ and Joe pays nothing.

5.       If you kill a deer with your rifle, all the other members must pay 5-20$ into the fund depending on the quality of the hunt and deer. 

6.       During certain times, a forum must be called to evaluate an animal’s value.  For example, if it is deemed extra special, like an extra large rack on a buck or a special animal we don’t get to hunt very often, like a moose or elk, a special value can be developed by the rest of the members.  In these cases, the value could be say 20$ each for a very good deer.  Additional funds can also be awarded if the animal was taken in difficult conditions or under extreme pressures.

The MHC had accumulated a few thousand dollars over that last few years before the Wyoming trip (see tomorrow’s blog post).  The funds tend to add up pretty quickly with 8 guys in the crew.  Though some of us pay into it more than others, it is all spent for the betterment of the group and actually evens out pretty well.  Sometimes we use the funds for trips, sometimes for equipment, and sometimes for donations to conservation organizations.  The fund is also just another way to get us out of the house.

The MHC has an award that is not awarded for anything good, rather it is awarded for less than stellar moments, lapses in judgments and other debauchery often caused by drinking.  Known to the enlightened as the Daryl Lecht award or just “Lecht” award, it is an old miner’s helmet the crew found on a hunting trip.  Oggie AKA “lunatic fringe” once employed a house painter named Daryl. Oggie, as you will recall, has  his own painting business apparently the guys was a drunk that never showed up on time or painted very well and in general was a derelict. The Daryl Lecht award has only been awarded 3 times once for leaving all the food for a trip at home (me), once for getting into a car wreck on the way to a hunting trip (Ray-Ray), and once for passing out drunk with his  pants around his ankles (the Chet).

Stay tuned for tomorrow's first post about our adventures in Wyoming hunting pronghorn antelope.

My wolf pack, Meet the Midtown Hunting Crew (MHC) 10.12.11

Like many other social omnivores and carnivores, humans are no different; we hunt and gather in packs.  Hunting is one of the oldest traditions, occupations, jobs, and pastimes humans partaken in.  Humans have been doing this since before we evolved into the form we take today.  A lot has changed in us since then.  We no longer hunt, fish and gather as our only forms of sustenance, and our bodies and diets have suffered for it.  Throughout the archaeological record, it is well documented that the existence of cultivation and domestication coincided with higher birth rates, higher infant mortality, shorter life expectancy, and, in general, larger population growth, albeit less healthy people.  Agricultural processes did give us more free time, and created a society that could think about things other than sustenance, but the other things just are not as much fun now are they…   

These are the reasons why I wish I could turn back the dial on time, and have my own true hunting pack. This fine specimen of the industrial-food-complex would look a lot different.  I’d be thin, fast and wouldn’t sit in front of a computer all day blogging about my fantasy wolf pack…or writing something else that I technically get paid for.

Anyway, so here it is your introduction to the Midtown Hunting Crew (MHC), my modern day wolf pack.  When I moved back to California during the summer of 2005, my house was behind a micro brew named the Rubicon Brewing Company, located in the neighborhood known as Midtown in Sacramento, California.  Midtown sits between downtown and East Sacramento and, because this is where most of us lived, the crew is named after the neighborhood.  My aunts, already living in Midtown, had scoped it out and were able to secure the house for me before I moved to Sacramento from Columbus, Ohio.  It was a sweet pad and it was located directly across an alley from a micro brew!  How lucky could a 30 something guy be, his aunts must really love him. 

Anyway, back to the MHC. I become a regular at the Rubicon, of course, and met some of the other regulars.  A guy I chat a lot with named Brad G, who at first I thought worked there because he is there so much, said I needed to meet this guy, Mike W, a fellow hunter. Mike W is a school teacher about my age, and, like me, a bow hunter.  While I had met some other bow hunters through work, I had always hunted with my aunt Sylvia (more about her later). I had yet to find anyone who was like me -- a bow hunter at heart, and in general my age.  Sure, I had met some dudes with big trucks that shop mostly at Wal-Mart, that also skin ducks, wasting all their precious fat, and vote republican because god tells them to, that also bow hunted but -- call me crazy -- I just didn’t want to hunt with them.  So, until meeting Mike W, I pretty much hunted with Aunt Sylvia or alone. So, meet the MHC in the order I think I met them: 

Mike W, AKA “the hippy” or Jesus or “Hippy Jesus,” at my aunt and uncle’s farm in Manville, Indiana with his first archery killed buck November 2008.

Mike is a good dude who teaches kids in continuation school.  Continuation school is high school for the kids who have failed out of other schools, were not able to complete the necessary regular school, or are in spots in their lives where this is their last chance at a high school diploma.  Any way you slice it, his classroom is full of misfits, delinquents, and misanthropes.   You know that saying, “it takes one to know one”? Well, Mike is not only their teacher but also kind of one of them that has made good and is trying to pass along a can-do attitude in the face of adversity.  Mike is a Sacramento native who has been around for a long time and has made Sacramento his home.

Clark B. AKA “level-headed Clark” or “the Natural Ass-leet” with a 38lb black drum caught on the fly near New Orleans, Louisiana during my bachelor party trip April 2010.

So, Clark is the MHC diplomat, the treasurer, and in general the voice of reason.  I first met Clark at the Rubicon with Mike W.  Mike and Clark are friends because their wives/ girlfriends were friends and they both lived in Midtown.  Clark somehow made his way into politics, as did his wife.  Clark worked for then Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, all the time keeping his liberal political agenda to himself.  Clark grew up in Utah and Sacramento and was raised a Mormon, but figured the weirdo underwear and giving all your money to some cult really wasn’t his thing. Clark did some hunting while he was in Utah, when the occult was trying to get him for keeps.  He hunted with a rifle as a kid, until Mike converted him to a bow hunter.  Clark is also an excellent fly-fisherman and can double haul with the best of them.

Ray A.  AKA Ray-Ray at Sacramento National Wildlife Refuge with Stella and her speck January, 2009.

Ray-Ray and Michael W. have years of hunting history.  Ducks, deer, and pheasant are just a few of the species they have hunted together.   They mostly hunted in California until the MHC formed.  Ray is a good duck hunter and hunts mostly refuges.  He has probably in the neighborhood of 20 years of experience hunting Northern California public lands, and now a few hunting the squirrels that terrorize his backyard.  He knows the ins-and-outs of public hunting in California for waterfowl.  He showed me a lot about public waterfowl hunting areas when I first moved to California.  He also owns a particularly crazy lab, which makes refuge hunting easier and more enjoyable.  Mike, Clark and me got Ray excited about bow hunting a few years ago and he has never looked back.  Ray has been on a mission to kill a California buck with his bow, no easy task to master.

Chester O.  AKA “The Chet” or “the little Ingin that could” with his first big game animal a doe Wyoming antelope October, 2011.

Chet is a Sacramento native; literally, he has Native American blood.  Being part Irish and part American Indian, if it’s wet he’ll drink it… beer, whiskey, vodka, tequila? You bet The Chet loved it. Chet was never a hunter, but did fish a lot as a kid.  I think the MHC gave him the excuse and opportunity to start hunting, and thus far, the learning curve has been steep.  Chet is good natured and has endured a lot of humor at his expense, due to rookie moves and general drunken Indianness.    Chet works hard and not too long ago, married a girl with a 7 year old boy.  So, now Chet has been reformed some… he is a dad and now a husband.  While we all miss the ol’ drunken Chet, the new Chet is still a great guy.  Chet is a union electrician and pulls cable in hospitals, schools and other large institutions.

Mike O. AKA “Oggie” or “lunatic fringe” in my rice blind November 2009.  He looks ready to kill. 

Oggie has been a friend of Mike W’s family for a long time and married Mike’s mom’s best friend.  Oggie is originally from Wisconsin and continues to hunt whitetail each fall in Wisconsin.  Oggie went to Sacramento State University and studied psychology to figure out why he is the way he is, but when that didn’t work he became a painter.  Mike has painted everything from houses to waterslides.  Oggie is also the oldest guy in our crew, but probably also the guy in the best shape.  Oggie is the only dude I know who is almost 50 years old and has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).  He really should be medicated with a substance other than beer.  Speaking of beer, Oggie also makes his own beers and some pretty good ones at that.  Some of my favorites include the Thunder Chicken, Donald Fagan Cascadian, and the MHC Pale Ale.  Oggie’s beer making is a direct result of his controlling his ADHD and channeling it into something productive. 

Marshall C. AKA “Marsh” on the left and me on the right opening day of spring turkey season March, 2010.

I met Marshall through work one day when he called me up asking to volunteer for Ducks Unlimited (my employer).  DU usually does not have very many volunteers outside of the fundraising system, and Marshall wanted to know how he could help out doing actual conservation work.  At first I thought he wanted to do hands-on stuff like hang wood duck boxes, or gather biological information, or dig drainage ditches.   Then he told me he was a lawyer and was not very athletic.  This was perfect, as I work as the real estate specialist for DU and at the time the State of California had a budget freeze, so I couldn’t pay my normal attorneys.  Now I had an attorney working for free.  Marshall and I hit it off pretty well and I knew he would be a good addition to the MHC.  Marshall is also always quoting movies or making some kind of obscure reference to movie he saw in the 80’s like Top Gun or the Goonies.  Marshall recently got married and they had a boy so he has changed some since we first met, but he still loves to hunt and get out of the house.  Now if that rug-rat would just grow faster we could take him with us.

Suntino S AKA “Sunny” or “the Dego” with his first big game kill, a forky bench-leg near Bullard’s Bar. Sunny killed with a circa 1930’s Mouser 8mm with open sights October 2010 .

Suntino S., he rides a Vespa and a Moto Guzzi, he is an Alfa Romeo/Fiat mechanic as his profession, and he pulls his own fresh mozzarella.  He is as dego as anyone I know.  One time when he picked me up to go hunting he was wearing his camo pants, his Italian Gucci loafers, and a “mad bomber” style hat… it was a great look.  Until meeting the MHC, Sunny had mostly hunted public lands in California for deer every year for many years and had never killed a buck.  Since he joined the MHC, he has killed 2 deer and 2 antelope.  Until recently he hunted with a WWII era Mouser Rifle with open sights.  The gun is known to Yuba County meth heads as “the musket”.  He does get out and hunt hard which is why he does well.  Sunny also hunts ducks and, like Ray-Ray, knows the public refuges well.  Sunny is, like me, obsessed with good food and drink.  He has lived in Sacramento all his life and knows the city well.  If you want Vietnamese bon mi he knows the place, if you want the finest dining in the city, he knows that place too.   

Honorary Member Sylvia N., “Aunt Sylvia,” aboard the Tracer 2 day trip out of San Diego, July 2008

Aunt Sylvia is the only honorary member of the MHC.  Sylvia is my paternal aunt; she was the youngest of four children born to a Greek American mother and an Italian father (my grandparents).  She is kind of like our den mother and likes some of the same things we do, such as hunting, fishing, cooking and homemade goodness.  She has been hunting since the 70’s, and is one of my duck blind partners.  We lease a duck blind near Sutter National Wildlife Refuge.  She is one of the people that took me hunting at an early age.  Today, Sylvia mostly hunts ducks, pheasants, dove, quail, and turkeys, but in the past she has hunted deer and pigs as well.  She also lives in Midtown and was responsible for me moving into a house directly behind the Rubicon, so I blame all this on her.  Many of your fellow Sacramentoans have probably seen or met her walking around Midtown with a black lab named Beau and a huge poof of white hair.  Sylvia is a retired Sacramento State professor and now hunts, fishes, volunteers at the Crocker Art Museum, and gambles like it’s her job.

So, that is my basic wolf pack, the Midtown Hunting Crew.  They are all good folks that work hard and party hard.  They come from different backgrounds, but for the most part all live to be outside and find solace in the company of deer, ducks, friends, food, and good drink.  I wanted to introduce to you this cast of characters before I start blogging about individual hunts with the MHC, just so you have some background to put names with faces and whatnot.  Stay tuned for blog entries about our first MHC Wyoming antelope hunt, which just occurred a few weeks ago, and my upcoming trip to Manville, Indiana, for whitetail deer hunting next month.  After that who knows.  I’m planning on hunting in Wisconsin with my in-laws during Thanksgiving for the first time, and my duck blind should have water about the first week of November.  I might even give you a story about Sunny’s 2011 deer (lucky little shit), the one located below this blog.

Everyday Conservationists

If you are reading this blog you already know about Aldo Leopold, John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt the great conservationists that were the driving force behind the early years of land protection in the U.S. They are the main reasons why public lands exist in this nation and many nations have replicated the US model of national parks, national forests, and our historic monuments. Some of you might even know other conservationists like Rick Bass, Charles Sheldon, Jane Goodall, and the like…but what about the everyday conservationists? Well the dudes in this photo are the everyday conservationists. They are the guys who care about the environment. They are the guys to give a shit! They are the everyday conservationists. They are the volunteers who raise money for wildlife habitat protection, restoration, and conservation. They are the guys who start local conservation clubs and land trusts that provide wildlife habitat in their own communities. They were thinking global and acting locally before environmentalists even coined the term. In many ways they were the first environmentalists. They were the guys with beards before beards were cool. They are tool salesmen, forklift operators, construction workers, and truck drivers. Most of them are union men. They are also fathers, sons, husbands and brothers. They are the guys who get kids out of the house and replace the nintendo with a bow-and-arrow. The photo contains me in the glasses, and my late uncle Dwight, Paul, Art and Jeremy… some of the finest individuals I know and have had the privilege of sharing outdoor experiences with.
These guys buy over priced and poorly cooked dinners at fundraising events, organize fund raising events themselves, organize raffles, buy hunting/fishing licenses, and duck stamps all for conservation of the things they love. They are the today’s forgotten conservationists, the guys in the trenches who give freely to state and federal wildlife agencies, non-profit conservation organizations and who own property purely as wildlife habitat, a place to hunt or fish and a place to spend time with family and friends. These dudes are carrying on a tradition of conservation started by the above mentioned conservation greats and many of them hope to some day pass that tradition down to today’s youth that seem to me lost in a alternate reality caused by a lack of self-sufficiency and a general malaise concerning the world around them...
These are the men who helped make me into the person I am today. Unfortunately, two of these guys are no longer with us and I miss them. They looked after me as a kid and as a young adult. They set me a path the made me who I am today. They taught me a lot of things… The following list of things we learned from Dwight Shelton, my maternal uncle, my brother and I read at Uncle Dwight’s memorial services a few years ago and I think is sums up the unsung conservationist, the everyday conservationist pretty well. Many of the next passages you could say about any of the guys in the above photo.

The Top 11 Things We Learned from Dwight Shelton

1) Dwight taught us the importance of growing your own garden and knowing where your food comes from. Then what to do with it once you have it. This year I caned 60 pints of tomatoes and 30 lbs of Tuna. I pickled peppers and made blackberry jam from wild black berries and copious amounts of white sugar. I also tried to pickle eggplant which didn’t really work very well and would not recommend in the future.

2) Dwight taught us about women. He said once “It is ok to get married. As long as your anniversary date doesn’t conflict with the opening day of deer hunting, trout fishing, pheasant hunting or duck hunting. Be sure to choose wisely on these dates and your marriage will be successful.”

3) Dwight taught us about hard work one summer when we dug potatoes in the Farmland garden. Then he taught us about hard work again after the winter storms in 2003 when he and the family collected and cut fire wood for months.

4) Dwight taught us how to be self sufficient and celebrate chores which seem mundane to most. Like cutting firewood.

5) Dwight taught us how to shoot a bow and how to clean a deer. Dwight gave me my first bow and I shot my first deer with him just down the ridgeline from me. That day he also shot a doe with his bow. Both does died within 20 yards of each other.

6) Dwight taught us how to make the best deer chili, which always seems to taste better when in Manville.

7) Dwight taught us how to play a great gag on your friends and still keep them friends. Gags in deer camp often involved the placement of a land terrapin into someone’s sleeping bag or under their pillow.

8) Dwight taught us about volunteerism and the importance of giving back to the environment, the community and the youth.

9) Dwight taught us a good birddog not only has a great nose and occasionally finds a pheasant, but also keeps you warm at night when the stove burns out. Dwight in fact gave us our first birddog an English setter named Toby no one really wanted.

10) Dwight taught us the importance of family and how one has the obligation to care for one’s own blood. He also taught us how to arrange family events properly so they can also be hunting or fishing trips, For example, Thanksgiving choices might include deer hunting in Indiana or Steelhead fishing in Michigan.

11) Most Importantly, Dwight taught us the value of conservation and how the environment really is the most important thing. In everyday life Dwight taught us to reuse glass jars for canning, cut only trees which have fallen naturally by wind or old age, and how to get involved with conservation groups like the Indiana Wildlife Federation, The National Wild Turkey Federation, and Ducks Unlimited. Today, I work for Ducks Unlimited and do my best to promote what Dwight taught me. Dwight gave us books to read about the great conservationists including Theodore Roosevelt, John Muir and Aldo Leopold. We feel Dwight would approve of this quote from Aldo Leopold’s Round River, as we feel Dwight lived and believed much like Leopold did…so here goes.
“Conservation is a state of harmony between men and land. By land is meant all of the things on, over, or in the earth. Harmony with land is like harmony with a friend; you cannot cherish his right hand and chop off his left. That is to say, you cannot love game and hate predators; you cannot conserve the waters and waste the ranges; you cannot build the forest and mine the farm. The land is one organism. Its parts, like our own parts, compete with each other and co-operate with each other. The competitions are as much a part of the inner workings as the co-operations. You can regulate them—cautiously—but not abolish them.”
We learned a lot from Dwight Shelton and will miss him forever, but will never forget him as we walk the hills in-between the cedars, the ash, and the maples, of his Manville Farm. His family and the farm are Dwight’s Legacy, please protect them, cherish them and always respect them.