AZHunter
Iowa Boy At Heart
I thought I would share the story of my most recent hunt out here in Arizona. This is not a story about a harvest (there wasn't one), so if that is what you are really interested in, feel free to skip this post. This is a story about a journey that culminated into one of the most meaningful hunts I’ve ever been on…for many reasons. I debated whether or not I should post a non-harvest story, but after seeing some of the bickering lately, I thought I might try and throw some perspective into the world on a site I like way better than our local hunting forums. This is also going to be a long read, so grab a cup of whatever you prefer if you’re up for the story.
A little back story: The end of last September, I got a call from a cousin back in Iowa letting me know my mom had some complications one day and ended up in the emergency room. After a follow-up with her regular doctor and all of the tests, my worst fear became a reality. My mom had lung cancer. She was in Iowa and I’m in Arizona. We had a quick family meeting (mom, me, my wife) and decided that the best option was to get mom down here to begin treatment since she wanted to fight it. There was nobody back in Iowa that could take care of her and, after talking to my supervisor, getting her down here with latitude on my part to work remotely was the best option. Her PET scan and MRI revealed that there was only one tumor (good news), but it was big (bad news). She flew down to Arizona November 1st and we met with the local oncologist (highly recommended from a couple of friends) on November 4th. November 7th, she went in to have a port-a-cath put in her chest for administering chemo. That’s when everything went south on us. The surgeon nicked her good lung and I ended up holding my mom’s hand in the ER as they did an emergency chest tube. She was admitted into the Step-Down Unit that night and all was looking better until Saturday morning, 9 November, when she had more difficulty breathing and had to be intubated and admitted to the ICU. I spent all that day by her side, on my knees praying and talking to my priest. The pulmonologist on staff suggested I make phone calls to any family that may want to see her because the outlook wasn’t good. I looked him in the eye and said "With all due respect, you don't know who you're dealing with. I don't know how to lose." and he told me he hoped I was right, but I probably wasn't. Those are fighting words for me, but, for the first time in my adult life, I was genuinely scared of something. At 3pm that afternoon, her vital signs had improved enough to make that “now or never” call and remove the breathing tube. I won’t repeat what she said, but it was definitely great to hear my mom’s voice. There were a lot of ups and downs along the way, but we spent 15 days in the hospital, me rarely leaving her side. The short side of an even longer story was that the tumor was so big and producing so much fluid (left lung non-functional) that they couldn’t treat the tumor because of the fluid and they couldn’t get rid of the pneumonia because of the tumor. Shortly after my conversation with the first pulmonologist, we were assigned a new one who offered us hope, but wanted to make sure we had realistic expectations. Fair enough; the scientist in me couldn't deny the data in front of me, but the son in me held on tight to that hope. Mom came home on 22 November under Hospice care and we all sat down and started talking about future plans. We didn’t think she would see Christmas and we were going to enjoy every single minute we had with her.
At the same time all of this was going on, Biggest Buck (Craig) made his announcement about his colon cancer. I’ve really grown to like Craig over the years we’ve been corresponding through IW, even though we’ve never met in person. That one hit me hard, too, especially since I was helping my mom fight a similar battle. I hated to drop anything on him, but I needed to vent and God bless him, he offered so much support it was unreal. Just before my mom was discharged her new pulmonologist (working with us for over a week) told her that if the pneumonia diminishes enough (not necessarily gone) to start a low dose of chemo, she should. We enjoyed Thanksgiving and every waking moment we could, but that question would never leave. We were told by one Hospice nurse that mom was Stage 4 and had maybe 2 months. Fortunately another nurse listened to our questions and listened to mom’s lungs one day and called the Hospice doctor. She ordered a chest x-ray for Monday, December 9th. I took mom in, praying the whole way. After seeing 3-4 chest x-rays/day, I got pretty good at reading them. When that picture popped up, I just about fell over. Her lungs were COMPLETELY CLEAR!!! Not long after that, the Hospice doc suggested we talk to the oncologist again. Once again, long story short, mom has had 2 treatments now and we are FULL of hope.
In the middle of all of the above, I got my archery javelina tag in the mail for January 1-23. I was just about to sign my tag over to a group that uses tags like that to take terminally ill, sick, or kids of wounded warriors hunting when my wife and I talked. She knew how much I needed to get away after two months of chaos as a caregiver. She told me to get out for a few days and unwind and release some stress. With mom on the road to recovery, I felt pretty good about being remote and inaccessible for a few days. As always, I can’t get out on this particular hunt without my daughter (9) and, to be honest, I needed some good father-daughter time. The only catch is that, with my son’s birthday party in December being postponed to mid-January (this past weekend) and my daughter having a soccer tournament 18-19 January, I only had one weekend open (2-5 January). I had to make the most of it. Because the area is known for some big desert mule deer, I grabbed my OTC archery tag, which is good for that unit in January. We loaded up and hit the road bright and early on 2 January for the 3-hour drive to the area we hunt, east of Wikieup, AZ. We got there mid-morning and set up camp and then tried to stay out of the unusually warm sun (while you all were getting that Polar Vortex)! My buddy from Kingman, who I usually hunt with out there, wasn’t going to make it with his son until about lunchtime Friday because of his son’s basketball practice. We walked the hills around camp and did a little quick and dirty scouting and decided to change our plans of going to the sweet spots and staying close to camp until my other buddy got there, especially since he knows the area much better and is amazing at glassing the hills.
We hiked just under a half mile to a nearby knob with a vantage point overlooking two washes. There were plenty of javelina tacks in the area so we had high hopes. After about 20 minutes of sitting there, a lone boar javelina popped out 100 yards right in front of my daughter and me. I offered my friend with me the chance at the stalk and he gave it to me. I got to about 60 yards across the wash from him, but I wasn’t as quiet or slow as I should have been and he busted out of there. I tried to catch up to him, but they can move for no bigger than they are. After I linked back up, I looked over towards camp and saw my Kingman buddy, Bill, pulling into our camp with his camper. We headed back to camp to hook up, have some dinner, and make new plans. I’ve known this guy since I started working in Flagstaff and we’ve been hunting together in this area for about 4 years. We devised a plan and hit the sack to get up at 0530. Not once did my daughter complain about the early wake-up time. To my surprise, when my alarm went off, she was up and moving. We hit our spot shortly before sunrise and got settled in. It was chilly, but we layered and she never complained. It wasn’t long before my Flagstaff buddy (Jeremy) says “Brian, there’s a buck over here.” Expecting to see something small on the slope behind us, I was caught completely off-guard to see the biggest 4x4 desert muley I’ve ever seen on the hoof (estimated to be a 150s buck) standing perfectly sky-lined on the adjacent ridge 200 yards away. Of course we were just as sky-lined so it didn’t take him long to bug out the direction he went. I knew he was long gone, but my Flag buddy went anyway and he took a direct approach, with no account for the wind or having to crest the ridge, potentially right on top of him. He eventually came back empty saying he lost his tracks after the buck left the road. Not long after that, Bill spotted a lone doe feeding just over 1,000 yards away. I told you, that man can glass a hillside! And not long after that, his 13-year old son spotted two does over a mile way feeding up a hillside. That boy has a future as a hunter!
Mule Deer Feeding Over a Mile Away (dead center black dots; taken through binoculars)
Staying Warm and Morning Snack
Javelina and Desert Mule Deer Habitat
After a couple of hours of nothing else moving close, we went to another hill about a half-mile off the road. I had to play catch-up after stripping off some UA layers, but I looked up to see my daughter matching them step-for-step up that desert scrub hillside loaded with cacti and tons of other thorny, prickly plants. We ended up glassing for another hour or so before it started getting hot and I could tell my daughter was ready to head back. Her and I started working our way back to the truck, having a great time chatting. As a father, it was great to see her enjoying life and the hunt so much. I couldn’t help but notice and point out how much stronger and better she’s gotten at hiking in this thorny, rocky terrain. After lunch and nap back at camp, we headed to the hill where I harvested my javelina last year. Right away, Bill glassed up a young forky mule deer. I had specific directions from my wife to stay away from the young ones, even if it meant having meat in the freezer: “If you’re not going to put in on the wall, don’t bother.” I LOVE that woman! I passed, but Jeremy went after it. He didn’t want the radios to guide him in so we couldn’t tell him where he was in relation to the moving buck. I kept waiting for him to pop into my view as I watched the buck, but it turns out he judged the wrong hill side and thought the buck was gone so he came back. With about 30 minutes of shooting light left, Bill’s son glassed up three adult javelina and a red (young of the year). We debated what to do with light fading, when Bill’s son says to me (after shooting a small-but-not-red javelina last year) “You can break your record!” There was nothing I could do but laugh. With light fading, we decided to back out and get on them in the morning with better light.
The next morning found us on that same hillside just before sunrise when Bill’s son spotted another buck on the opposite side of the canyon, near where the javelina were last seen. In the low light, all we could tell was that it was a buck and it was limping on its left front leg. We thought it was a 2x3, but it wasn’t until Bill got up there and set up his 15x56s that we figured out it was an old warrior of a mature 3x4. That was good enough for me and we started planning the stalk. I reached over and took the radio from my daughter so that Bill could guide me in and she was a little hurt. The light switch clicked in my brain and I asked her if she wanted to come on the stalk. Eyes wide “YES!” was a quick response. She was great! She grabbed my small scent spray bottle and we made sure we were sprayed down. The plan was to drop in the side canyon below us and hit the main canyon bottom below where he was last seen. We talked about the approach and overall plan and about moving extremely slow and quiet. We talked about using hand signals as we got closer, to avoid more noise. As we closed in and got a better perspective of where he was bedded, plans shifted on the fly. We began our final approach, creeping in and out of the thornscrub ever so slowly and methodically. I heard " He's 40 yards right in front of you." in my headset. Heart pounding fiercely, I couldn't see him; not even his antlers above the brush he was bedded in. "He's looking your direction." came over the radio and we froze (perfect hand signal pick up on her part). We were down wind (down slope, down canyon), my arrow was knocked, and my release was clipped; just enough tension on the string to draw in a moment's notice. My next little step or slight movement must have been the one he heard or noticed. He busted up out of that brush without ever looking back and offering no shot, despite my best effort to arouse the curiosity muleys are known for. We got to within 35-40 yards of an old, big, mature buck. Not me, WE! Not once did she complain or break silence. She moved slow and steady all the way. Not once did I have to give her "the look" for making noise at the wrong time. I can honestly say that she was not the reason the buck busted out of there. That will go down as my favorite stalk ever. Slightly bummed that I didn't get a shot, but excited to get that close to an old warrior and do it with my 9-year old daughter 2-3 feet behind me. Priceless moment right there! We enjoyed a nice hike back up the hill to our gear and friends, replaying everything. I explained to her that I needed someone very experienced on the radio, guiding me in and, after that experience, she understood. She definitely enjoyed being right there instead of up on the hill watching. I made sure she knew that she just proved to me that she's ready for an archery spot/stalk hunt next January!
About 30 minutes after linking back up with everyone, Bill came around the corner of the knob and said he spotted javelina about a half-mile away. Jeremy and I decided it was game back on and Sydney was coming with me again! We worked our way up the wash/road, ducking into the bushes to hide from an oblivious road-hunter and got on the final approach. We finally caught up to them and had them about 90 yards in front of us, working their way up the adjacent hill and over the ridge top. I could tell as we were cresting that ridge that Syd was starting to wear down and slow down. I let Jeremy know that if we didn’t find them over the ridge, I was heading back with Syd, especially since we didn’t have food or, more importantly, water. Even without Syd there, I wasn’t going to chase javelina from ridge top to ridge top for miles. I told Syd the plan, but she wanted me to push on. She tried to convince me that she was ok. I calmly told her that, as a father, my kids will always come before a filled tag and that I was not going to fill a tag at the cost of causing my kid, especially my daughter, misery. She said she wasn’t miserable, but I knew she would be if we pushed on. I used that moment to sit down and tell her that 30 years from now, I want her to be out hunting with her kids, talking about these moments. I didn’t want her to look back and think about how unfun this was just to fill a tag and, possibly, not like hunting. It was a time to teach her something important now. She finally understood and we started back down the hill.
As we were hiking down the hill, she lost her footing and landed square on a single cactus pad. I heard the rocks shuffling, followed by the thud of her bum hitting the ground, and then the scream letting me know she hit a cactus pad. Instant tears that I could neither get her to stop or even try to stop. I’ve been there a couple of times and there aren’t many more painful things. We went to work pulling cactus spines and the big ones, while super painful, were fewer in number. It was the little yellow spines that were EVERYWHERE. She finally did get the tears to stop and calm down, revealing just how tough she really is. I told her that she handled it well and I would have been cussing up a storm. “You would have said some ‘F-words’, huh, dad?” “Yep. And I wouldn’t blame you one bit if you had said some bad words.” I won’t repeat what my 9-year old daughter said next, but there were no “F-words or S-words” and I couldn’t blame her one bit. She earned that tirade and she did feel better. We got down off the hill fairly quickly after that and made the half-mile hike back to the truck holding hands and talking about life most of the way. My buddy and his son grabbed all of our gear (3 of us) and hiked down the knob with all of that plus their gear. They both assured Syd that they’ve been there before with the cactus pads and she smiled a little more.
More Habitat to Glass
Doing Some Glassing
My Favorite Hunting Buddy
We went back out that evening but didn’t see anything. By the time we were ready to head back to my truck, Syd was sitting in my lap relaxing while I tried to glass. My buddy Bill had to be back in Kingman Sunday morning, so he couldn’t hunt. After talking to Syd, we decided that she earned the right to have a morning off after getting up at 0530 in the cold every morning and never once complaining and all of the hiking she did in that unforgiving terrain where every fall results in landing in something spiny and/or thorny. With everything going on in my personal and professional life, I finally had a moment of clarity; a moment to reflect on why I fight the fights I do; and a moment to regain my strength and resolve for the fights that are in front of me. My daughter turns 10 in April, which is the legal age to hunt big game in Arizona and at that point, she will become my top hunting priority. I realized that this hunt could very well be my last for a few years as I work with her and I was ok with that. I have a late season turkey tag for the same unit as her tag in the early season. I will likely be able to sneak in some early OTC archery hunts in the fall. As far as my elk hunting, applying for the early archery season is the only way I can still elk hunt and not have anything that could overlap with her hunting opportunities. I don’t have a whole lot of trophies to my name or on the wall, but, as I explained to my daughter, I have a hunting buddy that I love, trust, and enjoy being with for the rest of my life and her little brother is on track to be right behind her and, eventually, beside us. That is the best trophy in the world in my humble opinion. I have until the end of this month to try and fill my OTC tag and I’m going to do my best to get back out to my unit or one a little closer so stay tuned. But no matter what else happens in this world, please remember what is important. It doesn’t take a great deal to completely upend your world and remind you that you’ve gotten off track. Good luck and God Bless You ALL!
What Is Really Important
A little back story: The end of last September, I got a call from a cousin back in Iowa letting me know my mom had some complications one day and ended up in the emergency room. After a follow-up with her regular doctor and all of the tests, my worst fear became a reality. My mom had lung cancer. She was in Iowa and I’m in Arizona. We had a quick family meeting (mom, me, my wife) and decided that the best option was to get mom down here to begin treatment since she wanted to fight it. There was nobody back in Iowa that could take care of her and, after talking to my supervisor, getting her down here with latitude on my part to work remotely was the best option. Her PET scan and MRI revealed that there was only one tumor (good news), but it was big (bad news). She flew down to Arizona November 1st and we met with the local oncologist (highly recommended from a couple of friends) on November 4th. November 7th, she went in to have a port-a-cath put in her chest for administering chemo. That’s when everything went south on us. The surgeon nicked her good lung and I ended up holding my mom’s hand in the ER as they did an emergency chest tube. She was admitted into the Step-Down Unit that night and all was looking better until Saturday morning, 9 November, when she had more difficulty breathing and had to be intubated and admitted to the ICU. I spent all that day by her side, on my knees praying and talking to my priest. The pulmonologist on staff suggested I make phone calls to any family that may want to see her because the outlook wasn’t good. I looked him in the eye and said "With all due respect, you don't know who you're dealing with. I don't know how to lose." and he told me he hoped I was right, but I probably wasn't. Those are fighting words for me, but, for the first time in my adult life, I was genuinely scared of something. At 3pm that afternoon, her vital signs had improved enough to make that “now or never” call and remove the breathing tube. I won’t repeat what she said, but it was definitely great to hear my mom’s voice. There were a lot of ups and downs along the way, but we spent 15 days in the hospital, me rarely leaving her side. The short side of an even longer story was that the tumor was so big and producing so much fluid (left lung non-functional) that they couldn’t treat the tumor because of the fluid and they couldn’t get rid of the pneumonia because of the tumor. Shortly after my conversation with the first pulmonologist, we were assigned a new one who offered us hope, but wanted to make sure we had realistic expectations. Fair enough; the scientist in me couldn't deny the data in front of me, but the son in me held on tight to that hope. Mom came home on 22 November under Hospice care and we all sat down and started talking about future plans. We didn’t think she would see Christmas and we were going to enjoy every single minute we had with her.
At the same time all of this was going on, Biggest Buck (Craig) made his announcement about his colon cancer. I’ve really grown to like Craig over the years we’ve been corresponding through IW, even though we’ve never met in person. That one hit me hard, too, especially since I was helping my mom fight a similar battle. I hated to drop anything on him, but I needed to vent and God bless him, he offered so much support it was unreal. Just before my mom was discharged her new pulmonologist (working with us for over a week) told her that if the pneumonia diminishes enough (not necessarily gone) to start a low dose of chemo, she should. We enjoyed Thanksgiving and every waking moment we could, but that question would never leave. We were told by one Hospice nurse that mom was Stage 4 and had maybe 2 months. Fortunately another nurse listened to our questions and listened to mom’s lungs one day and called the Hospice doctor. She ordered a chest x-ray for Monday, December 9th. I took mom in, praying the whole way. After seeing 3-4 chest x-rays/day, I got pretty good at reading them. When that picture popped up, I just about fell over. Her lungs were COMPLETELY CLEAR!!! Not long after that, the Hospice doc suggested we talk to the oncologist again. Once again, long story short, mom has had 2 treatments now and we are FULL of hope.
In the middle of all of the above, I got my archery javelina tag in the mail for January 1-23. I was just about to sign my tag over to a group that uses tags like that to take terminally ill, sick, or kids of wounded warriors hunting when my wife and I talked. She knew how much I needed to get away after two months of chaos as a caregiver. She told me to get out for a few days and unwind and release some stress. With mom on the road to recovery, I felt pretty good about being remote and inaccessible for a few days. As always, I can’t get out on this particular hunt without my daughter (9) and, to be honest, I needed some good father-daughter time. The only catch is that, with my son’s birthday party in December being postponed to mid-January (this past weekend) and my daughter having a soccer tournament 18-19 January, I only had one weekend open (2-5 January). I had to make the most of it. Because the area is known for some big desert mule deer, I grabbed my OTC archery tag, which is good for that unit in January. We loaded up and hit the road bright and early on 2 January for the 3-hour drive to the area we hunt, east of Wikieup, AZ. We got there mid-morning and set up camp and then tried to stay out of the unusually warm sun (while you all were getting that Polar Vortex)! My buddy from Kingman, who I usually hunt with out there, wasn’t going to make it with his son until about lunchtime Friday because of his son’s basketball practice. We walked the hills around camp and did a little quick and dirty scouting and decided to change our plans of going to the sweet spots and staying close to camp until my other buddy got there, especially since he knows the area much better and is amazing at glassing the hills.
We hiked just under a half mile to a nearby knob with a vantage point overlooking two washes. There were plenty of javelina tacks in the area so we had high hopes. After about 20 minutes of sitting there, a lone boar javelina popped out 100 yards right in front of my daughter and me. I offered my friend with me the chance at the stalk and he gave it to me. I got to about 60 yards across the wash from him, but I wasn’t as quiet or slow as I should have been and he busted out of there. I tried to catch up to him, but they can move for no bigger than they are. After I linked back up, I looked over towards camp and saw my Kingman buddy, Bill, pulling into our camp with his camper. We headed back to camp to hook up, have some dinner, and make new plans. I’ve known this guy since I started working in Flagstaff and we’ve been hunting together in this area for about 4 years. We devised a plan and hit the sack to get up at 0530. Not once did my daughter complain about the early wake-up time. To my surprise, when my alarm went off, she was up and moving. We hit our spot shortly before sunrise and got settled in. It was chilly, but we layered and she never complained. It wasn’t long before my Flagstaff buddy (Jeremy) says “Brian, there’s a buck over here.” Expecting to see something small on the slope behind us, I was caught completely off-guard to see the biggest 4x4 desert muley I’ve ever seen on the hoof (estimated to be a 150s buck) standing perfectly sky-lined on the adjacent ridge 200 yards away. Of course we were just as sky-lined so it didn’t take him long to bug out the direction he went. I knew he was long gone, but my Flag buddy went anyway and he took a direct approach, with no account for the wind or having to crest the ridge, potentially right on top of him. He eventually came back empty saying he lost his tracks after the buck left the road. Not long after that, Bill spotted a lone doe feeding just over 1,000 yards away. I told you, that man can glass a hillside! And not long after that, his 13-year old son spotted two does over a mile way feeding up a hillside. That boy has a future as a hunter!
Mule Deer Feeding Over a Mile Away (dead center black dots; taken through binoculars)
Staying Warm and Morning Snack
Javelina and Desert Mule Deer Habitat
After a couple of hours of nothing else moving close, we went to another hill about a half-mile off the road. I had to play catch-up after stripping off some UA layers, but I looked up to see my daughter matching them step-for-step up that desert scrub hillside loaded with cacti and tons of other thorny, prickly plants. We ended up glassing for another hour or so before it started getting hot and I could tell my daughter was ready to head back. Her and I started working our way back to the truck, having a great time chatting. As a father, it was great to see her enjoying life and the hunt so much. I couldn’t help but notice and point out how much stronger and better she’s gotten at hiking in this thorny, rocky terrain. After lunch and nap back at camp, we headed to the hill where I harvested my javelina last year. Right away, Bill glassed up a young forky mule deer. I had specific directions from my wife to stay away from the young ones, even if it meant having meat in the freezer: “If you’re not going to put in on the wall, don’t bother.” I LOVE that woman! I passed, but Jeremy went after it. He didn’t want the radios to guide him in so we couldn’t tell him where he was in relation to the moving buck. I kept waiting for him to pop into my view as I watched the buck, but it turns out he judged the wrong hill side and thought the buck was gone so he came back. With about 30 minutes of shooting light left, Bill’s son glassed up three adult javelina and a red (young of the year). We debated what to do with light fading, when Bill’s son says to me (after shooting a small-but-not-red javelina last year) “You can break your record!” There was nothing I could do but laugh. With light fading, we decided to back out and get on them in the morning with better light.
The next morning found us on that same hillside just before sunrise when Bill’s son spotted another buck on the opposite side of the canyon, near where the javelina were last seen. In the low light, all we could tell was that it was a buck and it was limping on its left front leg. We thought it was a 2x3, but it wasn’t until Bill got up there and set up his 15x56s that we figured out it was an old warrior of a mature 3x4. That was good enough for me and we started planning the stalk. I reached over and took the radio from my daughter so that Bill could guide me in and she was a little hurt. The light switch clicked in my brain and I asked her if she wanted to come on the stalk. Eyes wide “YES!” was a quick response. She was great! She grabbed my small scent spray bottle and we made sure we were sprayed down. The plan was to drop in the side canyon below us and hit the main canyon bottom below where he was last seen. We talked about the approach and overall plan and about moving extremely slow and quiet. We talked about using hand signals as we got closer, to avoid more noise. As we closed in and got a better perspective of where he was bedded, plans shifted on the fly. We began our final approach, creeping in and out of the thornscrub ever so slowly and methodically. I heard " He's 40 yards right in front of you." in my headset. Heart pounding fiercely, I couldn't see him; not even his antlers above the brush he was bedded in. "He's looking your direction." came over the radio and we froze (perfect hand signal pick up on her part). We were down wind (down slope, down canyon), my arrow was knocked, and my release was clipped; just enough tension on the string to draw in a moment's notice. My next little step or slight movement must have been the one he heard or noticed. He busted up out of that brush without ever looking back and offering no shot, despite my best effort to arouse the curiosity muleys are known for. We got to within 35-40 yards of an old, big, mature buck. Not me, WE! Not once did she complain or break silence. She moved slow and steady all the way. Not once did I have to give her "the look" for making noise at the wrong time. I can honestly say that she was not the reason the buck busted out of there. That will go down as my favorite stalk ever. Slightly bummed that I didn't get a shot, but excited to get that close to an old warrior and do it with my 9-year old daughter 2-3 feet behind me. Priceless moment right there! We enjoyed a nice hike back up the hill to our gear and friends, replaying everything. I explained to her that I needed someone very experienced on the radio, guiding me in and, after that experience, she understood. She definitely enjoyed being right there instead of up on the hill watching. I made sure she knew that she just proved to me that she's ready for an archery spot/stalk hunt next January!
About 30 minutes after linking back up with everyone, Bill came around the corner of the knob and said he spotted javelina about a half-mile away. Jeremy and I decided it was game back on and Sydney was coming with me again! We worked our way up the wash/road, ducking into the bushes to hide from an oblivious road-hunter and got on the final approach. We finally caught up to them and had them about 90 yards in front of us, working their way up the adjacent hill and over the ridge top. I could tell as we were cresting that ridge that Syd was starting to wear down and slow down. I let Jeremy know that if we didn’t find them over the ridge, I was heading back with Syd, especially since we didn’t have food or, more importantly, water. Even without Syd there, I wasn’t going to chase javelina from ridge top to ridge top for miles. I told Syd the plan, but she wanted me to push on. She tried to convince me that she was ok. I calmly told her that, as a father, my kids will always come before a filled tag and that I was not going to fill a tag at the cost of causing my kid, especially my daughter, misery. She said she wasn’t miserable, but I knew she would be if we pushed on. I used that moment to sit down and tell her that 30 years from now, I want her to be out hunting with her kids, talking about these moments. I didn’t want her to look back and think about how unfun this was just to fill a tag and, possibly, not like hunting. It was a time to teach her something important now. She finally understood and we started back down the hill.
As we were hiking down the hill, she lost her footing and landed square on a single cactus pad. I heard the rocks shuffling, followed by the thud of her bum hitting the ground, and then the scream letting me know she hit a cactus pad. Instant tears that I could neither get her to stop or even try to stop. I’ve been there a couple of times and there aren’t many more painful things. We went to work pulling cactus spines and the big ones, while super painful, were fewer in number. It was the little yellow spines that were EVERYWHERE. She finally did get the tears to stop and calm down, revealing just how tough she really is. I told her that she handled it well and I would have been cussing up a storm. “You would have said some ‘F-words’, huh, dad?” “Yep. And I wouldn’t blame you one bit if you had said some bad words.” I won’t repeat what my 9-year old daughter said next, but there were no “F-words or S-words” and I couldn’t blame her one bit. She earned that tirade and she did feel better. We got down off the hill fairly quickly after that and made the half-mile hike back to the truck holding hands and talking about life most of the way. My buddy and his son grabbed all of our gear (3 of us) and hiked down the knob with all of that plus their gear. They both assured Syd that they’ve been there before with the cactus pads and she smiled a little more.
More Habitat to Glass
Doing Some Glassing
My Favorite Hunting Buddy
We went back out that evening but didn’t see anything. By the time we were ready to head back to my truck, Syd was sitting in my lap relaxing while I tried to glass. My buddy Bill had to be back in Kingman Sunday morning, so he couldn’t hunt. After talking to Syd, we decided that she earned the right to have a morning off after getting up at 0530 in the cold every morning and never once complaining and all of the hiking she did in that unforgiving terrain where every fall results in landing in something spiny and/or thorny. With everything going on in my personal and professional life, I finally had a moment of clarity; a moment to reflect on why I fight the fights I do; and a moment to regain my strength and resolve for the fights that are in front of me. My daughter turns 10 in April, which is the legal age to hunt big game in Arizona and at that point, she will become my top hunting priority. I realized that this hunt could very well be my last for a few years as I work with her and I was ok with that. I have a late season turkey tag for the same unit as her tag in the early season. I will likely be able to sneak in some early OTC archery hunts in the fall. As far as my elk hunting, applying for the early archery season is the only way I can still elk hunt and not have anything that could overlap with her hunting opportunities. I don’t have a whole lot of trophies to my name or on the wall, but, as I explained to my daughter, I have a hunting buddy that I love, trust, and enjoy being with for the rest of my life and her little brother is on track to be right behind her and, eventually, beside us. That is the best trophy in the world in my humble opinion. I have until the end of this month to try and fill my OTC tag and I’m going to do my best to get back out to my unit or one a little closer so stay tuned. But no matter what else happens in this world, please remember what is important. It doesn’t take a great deal to completely upend your world and remind you that you’ve gotten off track. Good luck and God Bless You ALL!
What Is Really Important
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