Thursday, November 29, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
A few dead things we all need to see
Just a little moose, no big deal really. (Pardon the pun)
A little bit of the usual......a 15x12 tangled up with a perfect mainframe 4x4 with rear kickers. No big deal.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Per your request...
And here's one of my recent favorite pics...
Just for the record, I am proud of the men in our family being great providers and exquisite examples of all that is man... but we can only handle so many pictures of dead things.Monday, November 26, 2007
Mighty Hunter
This goes against my better judgement to encourage another hunting story and accompanying photos of dead animals on our family blog, HOWEVER, Danny went hunting this weekend, and just a few minutes into his hunt, he got a big buck. And right after he shot the deer we called him on his cell phone to let him know he needed to come back to the house because Taylor was sick and we needed to take him to the doctor ASAP. So he sent his dad down to the hunting spot to take care of the deer while we rushed Tay Tay to the doctor (that seems to be the way to hunt - have someone clean up after you!). I don't know a lot about hunting and dead animals, but it seems to me that maybe the horns on Danny's dear have more little pointies that the one on Jims? Does that mean anything?
Now that we've posted pictures from hunts, can someone please for the love of all post some cute kiddie pictures? A nice picture of Grace A, perhaps? Hint, hint...
Now that we've posted pictures from hunts, can someone please for the love of all post some cute kiddie pictures? A nice picture of Grace A, perhaps? Hint, hint...
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
just to encourage all you avid hunters in the family, (yes christy, i mean you) if you just keep on trying then you too can have a bloody deer on your front porch! All you need is a good ol fashioned "never give up" attitude and some sticktoitofness.
Not to be beaten by the bucks I saw on my last adventure, i returned to the very same mountain with another friend to attempt once again to provide much meat for the family. My friend has not yet killed a sitka blacktail buck in Alaska so I tried my best to let him lead the way and I tried to put him in the best spots.
Anyway, as all good stories start....we sat down in a muskeg and began to blow the deer call. A light snow was blowing in our faces which meant that the bucks in front of us wouldn't smell us. We were doing everything right but nothing was happening. I was perhaps getting a wee-bit discouraged after about 15 minutes of nothing but snow when off to our left and behind us we heard something crunching in the bushes. Try as we might we couldn't see anything, so I sent Brian down that way hoping that he would be able to see a buck trying to sneak into our location.
Now, although Brian claims I did it on purpose, what happened next was pure chance and nothing more. As brian walked away to try to locate the source of the noise behind us, suddenly directly in front of where Brian had been sitting not 60 seconds before, stepped out a nice buck. I looked for Brian but he as already too far gone to even see it so I did what had to be done and shot it.
Now the funny part of this story is that Brian later confessed that as he walked away from me he had the funny thought in his head, "what if Jim shot me in the back and left me up here?" As this thought was going through his mind and he was rationalizing it away because of how nice I am......BOOM! I shot and he very nearly jumped out of his britches.
Well, it was just fate and I had no idea that by sending Brian away I would get his buck....but thats how funny stories go.
p.s. Grace was soooooooo excited that "daddy shot a huge buck and its on our porch!!!!!" She was ecstatic.
Not to be beaten by the bucks I saw on my last adventure, i returned to the very same mountain with another friend to attempt once again to provide much meat for the family. My friend has not yet killed a sitka blacktail buck in Alaska so I tried my best to let him lead the way and I tried to put him in the best spots.
Anyway, as all good stories start....we sat down in a muskeg and began to blow the deer call. A light snow was blowing in our faces which meant that the bucks in front of us wouldn't smell us. We were doing everything right but nothing was happening. I was perhaps getting a wee-bit discouraged after about 15 minutes of nothing but snow when off to our left and behind us we heard something crunching in the bushes. Try as we might we couldn't see anything, so I sent Brian down that way hoping that he would be able to see a buck trying to sneak into our location.
Now, although Brian claims I did it on purpose, what happened next was pure chance and nothing more. As brian walked away to try to locate the source of the noise behind us, suddenly directly in front of where Brian had been sitting not 60 seconds before, stepped out a nice buck. I looked for Brian but he as already too far gone to even see it so I did what had to be done and shot it.
Now the funny part of this story is that Brian later confessed that as he walked away from me he had the funny thought in his head, "what if Jim shot me in the back and left me up here?" As this thought was going through his mind and he was rationalizing it away because of how nice I am......BOOM! I shot and he very nearly jumped out of his britches.
Well, it was just fate and I had no idea that by sending Brian away I would get his buck....but thats how funny stories go.
p.s. Grace was soooooooo excited that "daddy shot a huge buck and its on our porch!!!!!" She was ecstatic.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Stumped and Duped by the blacktail bucks
Today as a addendum to a very successful deer hunting season I thought it wise to take a friend from church (a coast guardsmen from florida who has never shot a living creature) on an alaskan deer hunt.
The day started well with a early morning break in the rain and a pleasant, yet difficult climb up a very steep hill. After several hours of hiking my friend finally came out with the proverbial question, "so have you killed anything this year?" The insinuation of course was that my guiding skills were lacking and that there was some uncertainty about my ability to navigate and guide a non-resident to a Sitka Blacktail Buck (which of course if he had read our family blog, he would know that i successfully assisted cousin George already this year).
Anyway, after calmly telling him that I had indeed been successful this year already, the overall attitude of our hunting party changed from pessimistic to mildly annoyed that I had apparently lost my skill as a woodsmen in recent weeks since my last hunting adventure. I offered up the encouraging words that I myself have heard on countless such hunting adventures when my feet just didn't want to pick up anymore, all my extremities were wet and cold and slightly frostbitten and my candybar supply had run low: "all we can do is keep looking." It never sounded good hearing that as a boy and as it escaped my mouth today I felt my friends pain, but what else can you do?
Anyway, slightly later in our adventure as the discouragement of wading through devil's clubs and sliding down muddy hills was setting in, we jumped up two bucks (a fork and a spike) for which neither of us was ready and both of which deftly escaped.
Now this is a tough mixing of emotions. On the one hand just seeing a deer after countless hours of laboring through very dense wet wilderness is encouraging, but to spend countless hours laboring through dense-wet wilderness and to finally see a buck (none the less two) and to have it simply run away without so much as a warning shot through the ear (thank you cousin George) is just down right discouraging.
After this initial upset my friend and I trudged for another hour or two through more dense-wet wilderness until we finally could see the logging road from whence we came at about 300 yards out. At this point in our journey we had accepted our defeat and were just bush-whacking our way through toward the road when much to my suprise and chagrin I spotted a forked horn Sitka Blacktail Buck just staring at me from about 50 feet away. RIGHT NEXT TO THE STINKING ROAD!
This was obviously the Lord blessing us and i could hardly believe it so as quickly as i could i loaded a shell in the chamber of my rifle and removed my scope covers, put the cross-hairs of my scope on his neck and pulled the trigger.......CLICK! Not Bang, not boom, but click! I still had my safety on and upon seeing all the commotion the 3rd buck of our day quickly ran away from us not knowing that had I been more in-tune with the safety mechanism of my rifle he would have "been a goner!"
Now at this point in our trip i could only shake my head and laugh uncomfortably because we had been fortunate enough to see more bucks in one morning than are often seen in a multi-day trip, but had failed to harvest any. After a brief bathroom break and a quick lament about how we should have been ready, we continued on the last 300 yards down to the road, quite encouraged and discouraged simultaneously.
With the road about 30 yards in front of us I noticed much to my glee and chagrin that yet another forked horn Sitka Blacktail Buck was standing in the middle of the logging road looking at us talking, and then a brief moment in time later running as fast as possible the other direction.
Inspired by our lack of success harvesting a deer so far in the hunt, I took after my Cousin George's example and tried the "sprint after the running deer to get another shot technique". Unfortunatly for me, the only shot that presented itself was at about 125 yards with the deer in a dead-run away from me. I did the only thing I could and quickly squeezed off a shot at the deer (hoping for a successful gluteus-maximus shot which proved successful for Cousin George on our last hunt). Unfortunatly for me, however, the 4th and final buck of our day continued running unhampered by my attempt to harvest him.
The blatant contradictory emotions we were both experiencing on the 30 minute walk back to the vehicle was nothing less than comical. How can you not be happy with going hunting for 8 hours and seeing 4 bucks, all the while within eye-sight of downtown Ketchikan? Yet also, how can you be satisfied with seeing 4 bucks in one short hunt and not having the skill or luck to harvest even one?
These are the tangled struggles a young hunter faces in todays complex world.
The day started well with a early morning break in the rain and a pleasant, yet difficult climb up a very steep hill. After several hours of hiking my friend finally came out with the proverbial question, "so have you killed anything this year?" The insinuation of course was that my guiding skills were lacking and that there was some uncertainty about my ability to navigate and guide a non-resident to a Sitka Blacktail Buck (which of course if he had read our family blog, he would know that i successfully assisted cousin George already this year).
Anyway, after calmly telling him that I had indeed been successful this year already, the overall attitude of our hunting party changed from pessimistic to mildly annoyed that I had apparently lost my skill as a woodsmen in recent weeks since my last hunting adventure. I offered up the encouraging words that I myself have heard on countless such hunting adventures when my feet just didn't want to pick up anymore, all my extremities were wet and cold and slightly frostbitten and my candybar supply had run low: "all we can do is keep looking." It never sounded good hearing that as a boy and as it escaped my mouth today I felt my friends pain, but what else can you do?
Anyway, slightly later in our adventure as the discouragement of wading through devil's clubs and sliding down muddy hills was setting in, we jumped up two bucks (a fork and a spike) for which neither of us was ready and both of which deftly escaped.
Now this is a tough mixing of emotions. On the one hand just seeing a deer after countless hours of laboring through very dense wet wilderness is encouraging, but to spend countless hours laboring through dense-wet wilderness and to finally see a buck (none the less two) and to have it simply run away without so much as a warning shot through the ear (thank you cousin George) is just down right discouraging.
After this initial upset my friend and I trudged for another hour or two through more dense-wet wilderness until we finally could see the logging road from whence we came at about 300 yards out. At this point in our journey we had accepted our defeat and were just bush-whacking our way through toward the road when much to my suprise and chagrin I spotted a forked horn Sitka Blacktail Buck just staring at me from about 50 feet away. RIGHT NEXT TO THE STINKING ROAD!
This was obviously the Lord blessing us and i could hardly believe it so as quickly as i could i loaded a shell in the chamber of my rifle and removed my scope covers, put the cross-hairs of my scope on his neck and pulled the trigger.......CLICK! Not Bang, not boom, but click! I still had my safety on and upon seeing all the commotion the 3rd buck of our day quickly ran away from us not knowing that had I been more in-tune with the safety mechanism of my rifle he would have "been a goner!"
Now at this point in our trip i could only shake my head and laugh uncomfortably because we had been fortunate enough to see more bucks in one morning than are often seen in a multi-day trip, but had failed to harvest any. After a brief bathroom break and a quick lament about how we should have been ready, we continued on the last 300 yards down to the road, quite encouraged and discouraged simultaneously.
With the road about 30 yards in front of us I noticed much to my glee and chagrin that yet another forked horn Sitka Blacktail Buck was standing in the middle of the logging road looking at us talking, and then a brief moment in time later running as fast as possible the other direction.
Inspired by our lack of success harvesting a deer so far in the hunt, I took after my Cousin George's example and tried the "sprint after the running deer to get another shot technique". Unfortunatly for me, the only shot that presented itself was at about 125 yards with the deer in a dead-run away from me. I did the only thing I could and quickly squeezed off a shot at the deer (hoping for a successful gluteus-maximus shot which proved successful for Cousin George on our last hunt). Unfortunatly for me, however, the 4th and final buck of our day continued running unhampered by my attempt to harvest him.
The blatant contradictory emotions we were both experiencing on the 30 minute walk back to the vehicle was nothing less than comical. How can you not be happy with going hunting for 8 hours and seeing 4 bucks, all the while within eye-sight of downtown Ketchikan? Yet also, how can you be satisfied with seeing 4 bucks in one short hunt and not having the skill or luck to harvest even one?
These are the tangled struggles a young hunter faces in todays complex world.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
The Ear
Meant to respond to Katy's comment about the location of the ear. I took the pierced ear home as a momento. It is now hanging (unbeknownst to Julie, seriously) on the edge of the tree fort facing the window of our guest bathroom. It's been there for a week, and nobody has noticed it yet. I think it will be a good conversation piece and excuse for me to tell my hunting story to any guest who asks about it.
Hunting Report--The Rest of the Story
Do Granny and Grandad still listen to Paul Harvey? We spent many lunch hours on the Julie Ann listening to his silly news report under the old "equal time" doctrine that applied to the boat's sound system. I was always a bit shy about playing any of my teenage music in front of Granny and Grandad. But not Marshall. Crew favorites in the mid to late 80's included Motley Crue, A Flock of Seagulls, The Thompson Twins, and Toto. Also Prince, until after Granny grew weary of a song that included too much screaming and declared that the Prince tape would never again be played on the boat. On Grandad's side, we got a large dose of Mitch Miller and Johnny Horton, which may have been the only two cassette tapes Grandad owned. Granny usually stuck with the accapella gospel favorites when it was her turn.
Grandad, being a natural storyteller, seemed particularly fond of the Paul Harvey news report. We prompted Grandad into telling a few stories on this year's hunting trip. Some fell into the category of old favorites. These included the story about a tranquilized Woody chewing up the car on the ferry and the story about the ill-fated Coast Guard boarding where the Coast Guardsman jumped into the slush tank and came out with water pouring from the barrell of his gun. Others were stories I had never heard before, such as when Grandad shot two deer at the same time and one fell almost right on top of the other. And who knew that Granny had shot a deer? Are there any 2nd or 3rd generation Pitcher women who have followed in Granny's footsteps in slaying a deer?
Before finishing the hunting narrative, a word about sleeping arrangements: The Julie Ann has an estimated 150-175 square feet of indoor living space, which makes for tight quarters with six grown men. Regardless of Jay's good attitude, the hold should not be considered indoor living space. On this year's trip, Jay and I agreed to sleep in the hold. It was chilly and there are a lot of night-time noises, including various pumps, drips, and splashing sounds, that made it hard to sleep my first night in the hold. We gave Larry a senior hunter exemption and allowed him to sleep in a bunk the entire trip. This left Jim and David to play a nightly card game for the right to sleep in the remaining bunk, with the loser left to sleep on the floor in the main walkway next to Grandad's couch bed. After the first night, Jim reported there had been five night-time bathroom breaks causing people to pass through his area. Jim had an unfortuanate cold streak in his cribbage game, resulting in Jim spending all but one night on the floor.
On Tuesday of the hunting trip Larry shot two deer while in the woods by himself. He got both his deer back to the trail near the cabin at the lake and was reportedly very happy to run into David and Jay on the trail.
Tuesday night turned out to be the unexpected high point for adventure on the trip when the perfect storm (well, at least some 40-50 mph winds) hit Karta Bay. At some point in the night, the flapping of the tarp became so loud that Jay and I both ventured up out of the hold. We found Jim, Larry and Grandad already up and studying the navigation equipment. They concluded that we were dragging anchor. Jim and I did a flashlight inspection of the shore, and it appeared we were very close to the beach. Grandad ordered that the anchor be pulled, and Jay and Larry ventured out to the bow at around 3:00 a.m. for an anchor pulling that included plenty of rain and fresh air. They harvested a commercial crab pot that was well-secured to our anchor. I joined them on the bow as we attempted to figure out how to get the crab pot off the anchor. After what seemed like a long time, we were able to get the pot free from the anchor. Larry pulled it aboard with a Herculean effort. By the time things calmed down, it was close to 5:00 a.m. I went ahead and made coffee, but everyone was able to go back to sleep for a while before the day's hunt. David, who made only a two minute appearance from his bunk during the anchor dragging, declared himself to be very well-rested.
Jim shot a buck on Wednesday, while the other two hunting teams (Larry/David and Jay/George) saw only does. Larry and Jim each shot another buck on Thursday, bringing the trip total to six deer. We returned to town late in the day Friday and finished the trip with another good dinner at Granny and Grandad's.
Thanks again for the invitation. The week-long hunting trip probably isn't going to become an annual thing for me, but I enjoyed it enough that I would like to bring Jack up to try it sometime. Maybe in a couple years when he's 12.
George
Grandad, being a natural storyteller, seemed particularly fond of the Paul Harvey news report. We prompted Grandad into telling a few stories on this year's hunting trip. Some fell into the category of old favorites. These included the story about a tranquilized Woody chewing up the car on the ferry and the story about the ill-fated Coast Guard boarding where the Coast Guardsman jumped into the slush tank and came out with water pouring from the barrell of his gun. Others were stories I had never heard before, such as when Grandad shot two deer at the same time and one fell almost right on top of the other. And who knew that Granny had shot a deer? Are there any 2nd or 3rd generation Pitcher women who have followed in Granny's footsteps in slaying a deer?
Before finishing the hunting narrative, a word about sleeping arrangements: The Julie Ann has an estimated 150-175 square feet of indoor living space, which makes for tight quarters with six grown men. Regardless of Jay's good attitude, the hold should not be considered indoor living space. On this year's trip, Jay and I agreed to sleep in the hold. It was chilly and there are a lot of night-time noises, including various pumps, drips, and splashing sounds, that made it hard to sleep my first night in the hold. We gave Larry a senior hunter exemption and allowed him to sleep in a bunk the entire trip. This left Jim and David to play a nightly card game for the right to sleep in the remaining bunk, with the loser left to sleep on the floor in the main walkway next to Grandad's couch bed. After the first night, Jim reported there had been five night-time bathroom breaks causing people to pass through his area. Jim had an unfortuanate cold streak in his cribbage game, resulting in Jim spending all but one night on the floor.
On Tuesday of the hunting trip Larry shot two deer while in the woods by himself. He got both his deer back to the trail near the cabin at the lake and was reportedly very happy to run into David and Jay on the trail.
Tuesday night turned out to be the unexpected high point for adventure on the trip when the perfect storm (well, at least some 40-50 mph winds) hit Karta Bay. At some point in the night, the flapping of the tarp became so loud that Jay and I both ventured up out of the hold. We found Jim, Larry and Grandad already up and studying the navigation equipment. They concluded that we were dragging anchor. Jim and I did a flashlight inspection of the shore, and it appeared we were very close to the beach. Grandad ordered that the anchor be pulled, and Jay and Larry ventured out to the bow at around 3:00 a.m. for an anchor pulling that included plenty of rain and fresh air. They harvested a commercial crab pot that was well-secured to our anchor. I joined them on the bow as we attempted to figure out how to get the crab pot off the anchor. After what seemed like a long time, we were able to get the pot free from the anchor. Larry pulled it aboard with a Herculean effort. By the time things calmed down, it was close to 5:00 a.m. I went ahead and made coffee, but everyone was able to go back to sleep for a while before the day's hunt. David, who made only a two minute appearance from his bunk during the anchor dragging, declared himself to be very well-rested.
Jim shot a buck on Wednesday, while the other two hunting teams (Larry/David and Jay/George) saw only does. Larry and Jim each shot another buck on Thursday, bringing the trip total to six deer. We returned to town late in the day Friday and finished the trip with another good dinner at Granny and Grandad's.
Thanks again for the invitation. The week-long hunting trip probably isn't going to become an annual thing for me, but I enjoyed it enough that I would like to bring Jack up to try it sometime. Maybe in a couple years when he's 12.
George
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
I Miss Miles
I miss that little guy everytime I read Taylor the Dinosaur book by Sandra Boynton. When I was in K-town this summer, Miles "read" the dino book to me, and had it all memorized (mostly). It was one of my favorite memories with Miles, and everytime I get to the part where it says, "Dinosaurs BIG, Dinosaurs tiny", I think of Miles yelling that line. I'm so excited to see him next week!
Monday, November 5, 2007
2007 Hunting Trip--Official Report Part I
I last attended the annual Pitcher family deer hunt in 1981 when I was 12 years old. My dad convinced me to go that year, even though it meant missing the last opportunity of my life to trick-or-treat under the "no trick-or-treating after you reach middle school" rule at our house. We took a very long boat ride to Admiralty Island. The family had a successful hunt that year, killing a total of 11 or 12 deer. I spent the trip taking long walks with my dad through the woods. I have three lasting memories from the 1981 trip:
1) making a lengthy trek while carrying a deer head in one hand and a heart/liver combo stuck on a stick in the other hand;
2) steaming deer blood spilling onto a frosty muskeg when a deer's thoat was slit; and
3) Larry cooking orange duck, with a goose, after a successful and exciting goose hunt where several of us hid behind a large log on a beach while one person (Grandad?) snuck through the forest to the head of a bay and scared a bunch of geese out toward the hiding hunters. As best I can recall, the orange goose recipe involved putting the goose in a pan with frozen orange juice concentrate and baking it. It wasn't bad if you could get to some of the goose meat that hadn't been influenced by the orange tasting outer layer.
After participating in a couple of additional uneventful deer hunts with my dad in Oregon, I decided that I wasn't going to be a hunter. I'm still ambivalent about whether the costs of shooting a deer (cleaning, packing, butchering, having to eat lots of venison) outweigh the benefits (excitement, trophy, enhanced feeling of manliness).
With that background, Jay baited me into attending the 2007 deer hunt by telling me that they planned to hunt near the Karta River, known to be an outstanding steelhead river. I could fly fish while the rest of the family hunted. I was excited about the chance to make another trip on the boat with Grandad, Larry, Jay and Jim. I knew David was going to be in Portland the weekend before the hunt, so I convinced him to come and we planned the trip on short notice.
The trip began on Sunday evening with a first-rate family dinner at Granny and Grandad's. We had homemade ravioli with two kinds of sauce. It was an enjoyable evening, even with the 85 degree temperature in the apartment. After dinner, I went grocery shopping with David, Larry, and Jay. It was at the grocery store that Larry informed us of the tradition that each person be responsible for cooking dinner on one night of the trip. David quickly claimed responsibility for night one of the trip, when we would eat an already Granny-made casserole. Jay claimed steaks, Larry announced plans for chicken, and I decided on a catch-of-the-day fish fry--with salmon patties for a back-up plan. Our evening meals on the boat were great, although there never was any catch to produce a fish fry. In fact, it turned out there wasn't sufficient canned salmon on the boat for salmon patties. My main course turned out to be leftover steak and chicken. I tried to make up for this shortcoming by cooking two breakfasts, making guacamole, and serving, possibly for the first time ever aboard the Julie Ann, a pre-dinner fruit and cheese plate.
We departed Monday morning and arrived somewhere that was not the Karta River a few hours later. Everyone else began putting on their hunting gear, so I did too. Jay, Larry, and Jim made a hunting plan, with Larry and Jim each agreeing to supervise one of the rookie hunters. I went with Jim into some very thick woods where we began climbing a hill immediately after getting out of the skiff. Visibility in the woods was poor, and I never felt like I could see further than 50 feet. I was starting to think the hunt was futile when a deer jumped up about 40 feet away from me. I could instantly see it was a buck. I raised the rifle Larry had loaned me and realized that, for some reason, things were fuzzy when I looked through the scope. I could see the deer with my bare eyes, but I had trouble finding it when I looked through the scope. The deer stood still for a good amount of time while I attempted to find it in the scope. Jim eventually began providing commentary from my rear, "It's a buck. Go ahead and shoot it. Just shoot it!" Feeling a bit pressured and knowing that I was taking way too long to shoot, I squeezed off a shot before I was perfectly comfortable with my aim. Later forensic inspection would show that I had shot a clean hole through the buck's ear. This caused him to run. My instinct was to run after it, which I did. Jim blew his deer call, and the deer stopped. I came to a point where I could see the deer again, fumbled to noisily reload my gun, and blasted it in the rear end. This time I saw the deer stagger and it ran off with a limp. Jim helped me find the blood trail and track it. Jim then proceeded to clean my deer and turn it into a backpack. He also carried it most of the way back to the skiff, after my initial stumbling effort at carrying it the first 200 yards. Thank you, Jim.
We arrived at the Karta River on Monday evening after the first afternoon of hunting. I was very satisfied with my prior day's hunt and was looking forward to some fishing. In fact, I was thinking since I had already shot a deer I wouldn't need to hunt anymore for the rest of the trip. I was somewhat concerned about river conditions due to the amount of rain. So I took both gun and fly rod in the skiff for the Tuesday morning ride to the beach. The Karta River was only marginally fishable on Tuesday due to high water. And the water rose as the week continued. Turns out it rained a total of 32 inches in Ketchikan for the month of October.
I have lots more to tell, but it will have to wait until later. Possibly this weekend.
George
1) making a lengthy trek while carrying a deer head in one hand and a heart/liver combo stuck on a stick in the other hand;
2) steaming deer blood spilling onto a frosty muskeg when a deer's thoat was slit; and
3) Larry cooking orange duck, with a goose, after a successful and exciting goose hunt where several of us hid behind a large log on a beach while one person (Grandad?) snuck through the forest to the head of a bay and scared a bunch of geese out toward the hiding hunters. As best I can recall, the orange goose recipe involved putting the goose in a pan with frozen orange juice concentrate and baking it. It wasn't bad if you could get to some of the goose meat that hadn't been influenced by the orange tasting outer layer.
After participating in a couple of additional uneventful deer hunts with my dad in Oregon, I decided that I wasn't going to be a hunter. I'm still ambivalent about whether the costs of shooting a deer (cleaning, packing, butchering, having to eat lots of venison) outweigh the benefits (excitement, trophy, enhanced feeling of manliness).
With that background, Jay baited me into attending the 2007 deer hunt by telling me that they planned to hunt near the Karta River, known to be an outstanding steelhead river. I could fly fish while the rest of the family hunted. I was excited about the chance to make another trip on the boat with Grandad, Larry, Jay and Jim. I knew David was going to be in Portland the weekend before the hunt, so I convinced him to come and we planned the trip on short notice.
The trip began on Sunday evening with a first-rate family dinner at Granny and Grandad's. We had homemade ravioli with two kinds of sauce. It was an enjoyable evening, even with the 85 degree temperature in the apartment. After dinner, I went grocery shopping with David, Larry, and Jay. It was at the grocery store that Larry informed us of the tradition that each person be responsible for cooking dinner on one night of the trip. David quickly claimed responsibility for night one of the trip, when we would eat an already Granny-made casserole. Jay claimed steaks, Larry announced plans for chicken, and I decided on a catch-of-the-day fish fry--with salmon patties for a back-up plan. Our evening meals on the boat were great, although there never was any catch to produce a fish fry. In fact, it turned out there wasn't sufficient canned salmon on the boat for salmon patties. My main course turned out to be leftover steak and chicken. I tried to make up for this shortcoming by cooking two breakfasts, making guacamole, and serving, possibly for the first time ever aboard the Julie Ann, a pre-dinner fruit and cheese plate.
We departed Monday morning and arrived somewhere that was not the Karta River a few hours later. Everyone else began putting on their hunting gear, so I did too. Jay, Larry, and Jim made a hunting plan, with Larry and Jim each agreeing to supervise one of the rookie hunters. I went with Jim into some very thick woods where we began climbing a hill immediately after getting out of the skiff. Visibility in the woods was poor, and I never felt like I could see further than 50 feet. I was starting to think the hunt was futile when a deer jumped up about 40 feet away from me. I could instantly see it was a buck. I raised the rifle Larry had loaned me and realized that, for some reason, things were fuzzy when I looked through the scope. I could see the deer with my bare eyes, but I had trouble finding it when I looked through the scope. The deer stood still for a good amount of time while I attempted to find it in the scope. Jim eventually began providing commentary from my rear, "It's a buck. Go ahead and shoot it. Just shoot it!" Feeling a bit pressured and knowing that I was taking way too long to shoot, I squeezed off a shot before I was perfectly comfortable with my aim. Later forensic inspection would show that I had shot a clean hole through the buck's ear. This caused him to run. My instinct was to run after it, which I did. Jim blew his deer call, and the deer stopped. I came to a point where I could see the deer again, fumbled to noisily reload my gun, and blasted it in the rear end. This time I saw the deer stagger and it ran off with a limp. Jim helped me find the blood trail and track it. Jim then proceeded to clean my deer and turn it into a backpack. He also carried it most of the way back to the skiff, after my initial stumbling effort at carrying it the first 200 yards. Thank you, Jim.
We arrived at the Karta River on Monday evening after the first afternoon of hunting. I was very satisfied with my prior day's hunt and was looking forward to some fishing. In fact, I was thinking since I had already shot a deer I wouldn't need to hunt anymore for the rest of the trip. I was somewhat concerned about river conditions due to the amount of rain. So I took both gun and fly rod in the skiff for the Tuesday morning ride to the beach. The Karta River was only marginally fishable on Tuesday due to high water. And the water rose as the week continued. Turns out it rained a total of 32 inches in Ketchikan for the month of October.
I have lots more to tell, but it will have to wait until later. Possibly this weekend.
George
Friday, November 2, 2007
He looks like an angel...
But let me tell you the story of our night. I told Danny I really needed some IHOP for dinner, so we had a fancy dinner out as a family. And there was a Home Depot next door to IHOP, so we went in to look around after dinner. By the time we got done and home, it was 8:30, which is Taylor's bedtime. We told him that it was his lucky night and that he wouldn't have to take a bath. So I gathered his pjs and a new diaper and a few wipes and went into the living room where he was playing to change his diaper and put his pjs on. Well, our little Tay Tay doesn't like to sit still for diaper changes, and when I had the dirty diaper off and he was all wiped clean, he broke loose and crawled over to the couch, wearing just his shirt and his smile. Before we could get to him, he was wetting himself all down his leg and on the floor. Nasty, right? Nope, that's not the half of it. So we wiped him up and I went to run him a bath since he had his no-bath-night priviledges revoked, given the circumstances. Danny finished getting Taylor undressed, brought a naked little boy back to our bathroom, and put him on the floor while I finished preparing his bath. And then I looked down, and wondered what our little angel was smearing all over the tile with his hands. Yep, our boy was sitting in another puddle of his urine, playing with it and splashing it all around. So Tay Tay had an extra good scrubbing in the bathtub, and we have the living room floor and the bathroom floor to sanitize.
Here is Tay Tay and I after his bath tonight. He doesn't seem too traumitized that he was playing in a puddle of his own urine...
Here is Tay Tay and I after his bath tonight. He doesn't seem too traumitized that he was playing in a puddle of his own urine...
100 Things continued...
28. My favorite color is yellow, or sometimes blue.
29. I don’t like purple
30. I think it’s wrong to have a pink or purple car
31. I’d like to have a Honda Pilot, I think
32. When I was a young teen I was staying with my cousin Nancy while my parents were out of town and we stole my parents’ car and drove it around.
33. I have no clue what we were thinking
34. I was not a rebellious or risk taking child
35. But, apparently, I wasn’t too bright
36. I love Mexican and Italian and Chinese food
37. I would like to visit Greece because I think I would really enjoy their food
38. I’ve been called Scrooge
39. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas, it’s that I feel like we have too much and we don’t always appreciate what we have, much less what we receive
40. I really, really liked it when Julie & Jay gave us gifts from Samaritan’s Purse
41. I love it when our family is all together
42. I get compliments on our family a lot and it makes me so proud of you guys
43. My 3 married children all married Christians
44. Their spouses add a lot to our family
45. I love the fact that they love my children and are great parents to my grandchildren
46. The last book I read was “Living Better Across the Border” about retiring in Mexico
47. I want to go to Mexico and see all the places they talked about
48. But I don’t want to retire in Mexico
49. Katy, Trina, EA, Miles, Grace & I are going to a play, “Beauty & the Beast” tomorrow
50. I’ve never seen or read “Beauty & the Beast”
29. I don’t like purple
30. I think it’s wrong to have a pink or purple car
31. I’d like to have a Honda Pilot, I think
32. When I was a young teen I was staying with my cousin Nancy while my parents were out of town and we stole my parents’ car and drove it around.
33. I have no clue what we were thinking
34. I was not a rebellious or risk taking child
35. But, apparently, I wasn’t too bright
36. I love Mexican and Italian and Chinese food
37. I would like to visit Greece because I think I would really enjoy their food
38. I’ve been called Scrooge
39. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas, it’s that I feel like we have too much and we don’t always appreciate what we have, much less what we receive
40. I really, really liked it when Julie & Jay gave us gifts from Samaritan’s Purse
41. I love it when our family is all together
42. I get compliments on our family a lot and it makes me so proud of you guys
43. My 3 married children all married Christians
44. Their spouses add a lot to our family
45. I love the fact that they love my children and are great parents to my grandchildren
46. The last book I read was “Living Better Across the Border” about retiring in Mexico
47. I want to go to Mexico and see all the places they talked about
48. But I don’t want to retire in Mexico
49. Katy, Trina, EA, Miles, Grace & I are going to a play, “Beauty & the Beast” tomorrow
50. I’ve never seen or read “Beauty & the Beast”
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