Not Sure

I normally don’t post photos of my successful hunting trips. I hope you’re not offended…. While I’m always grateful for the gift of meat, this year’s hunting success is especially meaningful to me.

I grew up camping and fishing. Every summer, we’d head up Sonora Pass to camp. Fishing was so important that I sometimes skipped school. But I didn’t start hunting until I was middle aged.

Sami grew up mostly in Burbank - in a family that did lots of things together, but not camping, fishing, or hunting. And yet, like I imagine the “LA doll” that John Mellencamp married and brought to his “Small Town,” Sami embraced these parts of living in rural (semi-rural, anyway) Northern California. The year before we were married, I remember taking Sami to fish on the Stanislaus River at Dardanelles - she caught more fish than I did! We camped most summers of our married life.  And when I started hunting, Sami started loving to prepare and eat venison.

Usually, I put in for antelope and elk tags when I buy my hunting license and deer tags - I’ve never been drawn, but I’m hopeful! This year, when I put in for tags in May, things were so uncertain that I only bought deer tags - a tag for our home zone, and a tag for Tuolumne County, where I grew up (and where my sister and brother-in-law still live). At best, I knew I’d need to be here with Sami. At worst, I suspected I’d be alone.

On opening weekend (last week, here in Placer County), my brother-in-law Adrian joined me in hunting a property in Colfax that I’ve been privileged to hunt for the last decade. Last Sunday, he got a buck; I didn’t (which is a story unto itself). Yesterday, after a long day hiking through the rainy woods and not seeing many deer, I got my buck.

Killing an animal to sustain myself and my family is always an emotional experience; direct participation in feeding myself and my family is why I started hunting. I’m always grateful. But this year seems different. This year, filling the woodshed and filling the freezer seem to have more significance. 

In years past, I would always text Sami a photo of my successful hunt. She’d be excited for me, and about the venison meals in our future. This year, I texted our daughters and my extended family. They were equally excited - partly, I think, because my success seemed like a normal autumn activity. Or maybe that’s just my perspective.

I’ve come to enjoy hunting not only for the meat in my freezer (and, if I’m honest, the thrill and skill involved in a successful hunt); I also enjoy hunting for the excuse to be outdoors, in an environment I love. I love being quiet and attentive to everything around me - yesterday, I saw a great horned owl, a red-shouldered hawk, an enormous flock of Sandhill Cranes headed south, and exactly seven deer. Including the buck I killed. This morning, as I quartered the buck in preparation for cutting and wrapping my winter meat, I experienced an odd mix of sadness and contentment. I’m not sure why, but getting a buck this year seemed especially important to me - perhaps because it felt like “normal”; perhaps because I knew how happy Sami would have been. Regardless, I will think of Sami every time I make a meal from this buck.