Tag: Father
Memories of the Hunt, the Old Sweater
Opening weekend of New York Southern Tier firearms season for whitetails is in the books as one of thirty four seasons spent in the great forests of my home state. Thanksgiving morning, holiday weekend hunts to follow are eagerly anticipated as in the past. Deer camp has certainly changed from a deer camp weekend with a monday opener to a Saturday opener. I do miss the weekend of camp as a prelude to opening day.
With thirty three seasons under my belt it is the time with others that I recall more fondly, reminisce about the most. It is during these solemn moments to recount the hunts of years gone by. Hours in a favored stand, before first light, the often quiet surroundings as the evening sets gives plenty of opportunity to ponder. The day ebbs and flows and is not a constant parade of quarry, and often times the moment of truth occurs in just a view brief moments.
I recall most all the hunts, in all melancholy, days I hunted alone, with others, what was seen, what deer we tagged. As I grow older it takes a bit more time to exact some of them. The task of returning to the truck were sometimes epic efforts before the commonplace of atvs that made for far less dragging and the sore bones and aching muscles. It was always a welcome pleasure to have a few in the hunting party that could double as a front line tackle for a pro football team.
Deer camp is always the best. Annual get togethers and catching up on another years worth of living. Difficulties were discussed in good company and you would have any and all support required. Announcements of job changes, retirements, weddings, the births of children, grandchildren and we would also learn of those passed and their presence in camp would be in spirit. As I said, it’s the best.
It is for the most part a heartwarming reminiscing in appreciation of others, time in the great forests, time with family and friends. It is also a time to remember those that have passed, time with fellow hunters whose lives have changed. placing them in far away places and past friendships that have concluded as people change, not always for the better. As such they are memories of places and times I am fortunate to have. Deer camp embraces a full cross section of folks and our way of life. Away from work, the demands of daily life that I truly love the traditions of opening day, opening weekend in a well known, and familiar deer stand.
My bride of 18 years and I would be the only ones on our ranch this past weekend, a first in a very long time. Sightings leading up to this past weekend were excellent, and our hit list was longer than many years in the past. One brute of a buck I named pile driver from an encounter I had with him two years ago. The buck was not captured on a single game cam. He went without being spotted before, during or after season last year. This fall he came back to the area, and grew in many ways. He still evades the cams.
Having passed on small does and bucks during archery season, it has been my personal choice to only cull a few does in keeping with our current management plan and take only racked bucks. It is not a statement on other’s choices, but is ours to reach a specific goal on our place. There was a time where a fork horn or small six would be big news on our hillside and where it was common to see 15-17 does for every scrub buck we saw. Eighteen years later we expect to see a few good eight pointers and a few in Pope and Young, Boone and Crockett territory.
With fresh snow and a day in the stand ahead, I donned a familiar old sweater. For some it is a trusted old shotgun or rifle that is a link to the past generations, for me this was a present for my very first deer season, from my parents in 1985. My father, and my grandfather had stopped hunting long before I became of age despite being hard core Adirondack deer hunters that would boat plane into remote lakes for weeks at a time. Knowing as I do now, I would have loved to experienced that so many years ago.
The old sweater is an offering from the Remington sporting line of clothing, heavy wool with a padded shoulder patch, and rather oversized. My “lucky sweater” is of great warmth and comfort in the most miserable of hunting conditions. For me it is a direct connection to my parents who now have both passed. A most practical gift and with an emotional attachment and comfort to still have it. It is an essential must wear item on many cold days in the forests. Far more meaningful than the knitting of wool threads and practical use it would otherwise suggest. In retrospect it is one of the very few items that has remained in use since my first season.
In difference to many deer tracks and beds spotted from the day before, only one doe was seen early. No shot opportunity with thick stand of saplings between us. Nevertheless, it was early light excitement and enjoyable to watch her walk along in a most casual way. The typical volley of shots we normally expect to ring out in the valleys below and on our hill were far less frequent than past years.
Lee and I would do a few short pushes to each other, with no sightings to report. Sunday was even quieter and we would come across fresh beds from the night before just above our log home. One bed and a set of giant buck tracks suggested a bit of mockery and a teaser challenge. Challenge accepted of course. On both days, my legs and hands would start to cool, my trusty old sweater kept me toasty warm as it had so many hunts in the past. I thank my parents for so much they did for me. I am inclined to silently repeat this often.
All in all, a quiet opening weekend. A good time afield and time on our land is highly coveted with the busy lives we lead. As the season marches on, I wish you many good days in a deer stand, a great deer camp with friends!
-MJ
© 2018 Mike Joyner- Joyner Outdoor Media
#deerhunting #oldsweater #deercamp #family #deerstand
A Thankful Thanksgiving
A Thankful Thanksgiving
As the despot author of turkey-talk.com blog I take advantage of and make it a prerogative to steer nearly anything into to something about wild turkeys. Thanksgiving of course lends itself to it without any effort at all. My comments on our time honored holiday comes after a 27 hour stint working at my office.
When working thru an entire calendar day you become acquainted with the wee hours of the morning without distractions or the busy, busy of modern living. Not at all dissimilar to the quiet sanctum of the turkey woods which I so much favor. Easy to become a fan of early hours AM radio where you listen to some very bizarre and out there broadcasts as the night owls relinquish their very deep and most inner thoughts. It does give one’s self the time set aside to let your mind wander, and exercise how deep the rabbit hole goes.
In the work that pays the bills, designing image sensors, it entails long hours staring at very large screens. The discipline comes with its own technical language and deep concentration which is typical of the engineering vocations. While designing requires tasks such as DRC’s (design rule checks) and LVS (layout vs Schematic) one may have some time on their hands depending on how large a design it is.
On this thanksgiving I am thankful that in my work a task that would take not twenty years ago many man days to run on $200K-$300K worth of software in a half million dollar computer room now runs on a laptop ( a $5K-$7K CAD platform) and takes 90 seconds to a few minutes to run on $80k worth of software. To add to that that it is far more accurate, in-depth and more useful than it was just a few decades ago. It use to be you would set it up and hope to have some results the next day or maybe be a day or two later. The down side is you can stay on top of it and work far too many hours straight in one sitting. What would take several weeks to accomplish was finished off in a little more than 27 hours.
As owner of my own tech company I crack my own whip. I am thankful I live in a country where I can create my own job, my own lively hood, and continue with the profession I have dedicated my life’s work to. All this back ground sets up the late night experience where I could take inventory of pluses and minuses at my leisure.
Although my time afield currently is a fraction of what it might be of any other year, what few precious hours at the base of an oak tree or in a deer stand has been as they always have- monumental, and cleansing of the soul. I have yet to aim my cross hairs on a game animal, although I worry little about it as it is time in my sanctuary and the freezer will be filled when the timing, opportunity and preparedness align at the same moment. It is an end goal, a tangible conclusion, but not the prime reason to be afield.
As I often intertwine my love of the turkey woods with my work as an engineer, as a writer, they are a small snapshot of my being whereas my most important roles as husband, father, a son, a grandfather, a friend are what makes me whole.
In my pre-dawn hours of Thanksgiving morning slaving away to the digital gods that I call earning a living. I am most thankful for Lee, my wife who tolerates my all-encompassing live style and made an awesome thanksgiving feast this afternoon. I am most thankful to our children, grandchildren. I am also thankful to make a living and despite my flirting with the devil in so many long hours I am in reasonable health although not perfect or in my best representation. I am thankful for my time in the turkey woods, in God’s amphitheater for the time spent there, and for the life lessons taught while afield. I am also thankful for my upbringing and for my parents whom have now passed on. It is a heartache that they are now gone, yet heartwarming to have had them as my rock. It is the natural order of things.
It is my warmest wishes that you had an awesome time with loved ones, with family and that you find your days in your vocation, and your days afield truly inspiring
-MJ
© 2017 Mike Joyner- Joyner Outdoor Media
Old Memories, New Memories- Good Times: 2014 New York Spring Turkey Youth Hunt
What started out as a plan ‘B’ turned out to be a memorable hunt for a very nice young man and two of us old well seasoned hunters. It would be memorable for a host of reasons which I’ll explain further.
Since the inception of the New York Spring Youth Turkey Hunt, there have been plenty of memories made, and lots of pictures of young adults with smiling faces. For my hunting partner Paul Walling and I this has been our experience, and something we look forward to. Although my children were grown adults before the inception of the special youth season, I would take out a young hunter as the opportunities presented themselves. Like many of you, we would take out young hunters in regular season as well.
For this particular hunt, Paul and I would be taking Keller Pai out for this morning’s hunt. Keller has taken several gobblers in prior hunts, and has a few seasons under his belt. As much as Paul and I enjoy each other’s company while hunting, we would agree that taking out a young hunter is the highlight of the season. Paul grew up learning how to hunt while taught by his father, and that is something I appreciate very much as I did not hunt until my mid 20″s. My father was an Adirondack deer hunter, but gave that up after joining the Navy. The experience for us to take out Keller is especially rewarding as the morning would be full of lessons of the turkey woods, and recounting of past experiences of our escapades and that of Paul and his father.
Our plan ‘A’ for the morning was to visit one of our favorite haunts that we affectionately call “Shorties.” There is a lengthy story behind the name, and technically there are two possibly three separate stories depending how one parses it. A chapter in my first book “Hills of Truxton” was dedicated to this “special” gobbler and so named. Disclosing the exact location is of course misleading on purpose but I can tell you that it is a piece of state game lands south of Cortland, or was that northeast of Truxton? I arrived ahead of Paul and Keller at 5:16AM, only to find another truck parked there, and they had already headed in. As good as the place is, we very seldom run into other hunters there. I let Paul know that we needed to go elsewhere as we would not intrude on purpose, and would give them the courtesy that is due. We would regroup and try our luck at another favored spot a little more than a mile from where we were. We would find our plan “B” choice to be unencumbered, and appeared to had little vehicle traffic nor any one parking there recently. As a side note, we saw no other vehicles parked at the side of the road or at trail heads the remainder of the morning. In some respects the 2nd location and the logging trail along the bottom of a hill would provide an area shielded from the predominate wind that morning, allowing us to hear a ways off. Rain had tapered off long before daylight, although cool temps greeted us, it was much more comfortable being out of the wind. The morning would remained overcast and cloudy, no bright sunny day to warm things up today. A base layer, and light hunting jacket would suffice.
We would slowly work our way into the woods as the regrouping had us going in as the sky began to change and was getting light out. Paul knew the traditional roosting areas very well,and we could cover some ground without disrupting the birds as they waited to fly down. We quickly called up an owl, which did elicit a gobble from parts unknown in distance and only a general direction. The owl favored Paul’s rendition of an owl more so this morning, and would occasionally answer my efforts. Paul and I learned long ago, that with two callers, favored responses will switch back and forth over the course of the morning. It mattered little, as long as we got a response. For the first 30 minutes we would occasionally hear a gobbler, not at all close but in a direction that we figured to be where Plan “A’ would have taken place. I personally thought we would hear a shot come from there. Something that we never heard during our time there this morning. A slow start to be sure.
We eventually got out to a spot that overlooked a large drop off along the state land border. A few calls got a round house of gobbling and hen talk from a flock we figured to be a good quarter mile or further down the bottom of the overlook on private property. We sat down and decided to see what if anything the flock would do. By auditory appearances my guess would be several mature gobblers, a few jakes and at least a hen or two willing to talk. Most likely more hens than what we would like. They would gobble at any call we made, so we decided to wait a bit, and see if their feet were moving or just their beaks. Probably less than ten minutes, I did a short sequence on a mouth call that Paul makes for me, and got an immediate response, not more than a few hundred yards below us. We got an answer we were happy about. Wasting no time I moved back and over some from Paul and Keller. A few calls later the gobbles in response to our calls ceased and I figure either they were coming or working out the steep bank. After making a call with no response, I decided to hold off and see what they do. Paul and I read each other’s next moves pretty well, and when he called shortly after I had stopped it surprised me, even more so, the call was a very soft first yelp and finished just as soft. That is when I notice Keller’s shoulders tighten up. The game was on and target was in sight. The gun came up, and a moment later it roared. I was far enough back that I could not see the approaching bird.
We all got up, with Keller reaching the bird in mere seconds. It was a good sized jake, and he had wasted no time coming up the steep bank to get to us. Paul’s last call turned the bird enough to bring his path in front of them and within 30 yards. With the woods wide open which is typical for early season, it was great to not have the bird hangup 50-60-70 yards below our location. After tagging the bird and taking pictures we walked back only a little faster than we came in, listening for other gobblers as any intel is welcomed for the opener on May 1st. We did hear a few gobbles, but nothing close. Given our location, we were surprised to hear no other shotgun blasts, although Keller thought he heard one, far off and early.
Keller got a quick lesson as to how fast things can go from a gobble way over yonder to fast action with an even faster conclusion that can occur in the turkey woods. Something Paul and I have experienced many times and I would suspect that goes the same for many of you.
We concluded the hunt with a great breakfast at the local diner (location not disclosed) and then parted ways, headed for home. A short nap later that morning was most welcomed. Big congrats to Keller and a big thank you to Paul for what continues to be one of many great and memorable hunts.
© 2014 Mike Joyner- Joyner Outdoor Media
Happy Father’s Day
To my father who we lost to Leukemia in 1999
I am grateful for all the lessons you taught by example, rather than by dictate. You taught me how to be a man, the importance of honor, respect, honesty, work ethic, and sacrifice. As I age, I have found myself to be more and more like you. I have come to a point where I better understand what was important to you when I was growing up. The fact you were a good man, and a great father are qualities to aspire to. In that thought I strive to do just that.
We lost you way to early and it is painfully unfair. There has been so much good that has occurred since your passing, and I am all too happy to report. It would have been grande to have you here to share it with.
Happy father’s day
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