Easing ever so slowly over the crest of the ridge in the smokey
grey of the early morning, I sent a series of soft cuts from my box call into
the heavy air and listened in quiet stillness.
Suddenly, the faint crunching of leaves was detected, I felt my
heartbeat accelerate and my fingers grip the string a little tighter. I made a conscious effort to point my
shoulders in the direction of the sound in reparation for a shot, and with
sharp clarity and focus I remained like a stone to the approaching quarry. I was enthusiastically anticipating the
moment of truth and the culmination of years of effort for this lofty endeavor
of the meeting of wood and steel, to feather and flesh…..
I had been looking forward to this hunting trip since the
close of deer season in January, and rainy and cold conditions were not going
to dampen my enthusiasm. I had traveled
a day early to set up my large wall tent and wood stove for a party of nine
turkey hunters that would arrive the following Friday evening and hunt Saturday
morning. My brother arrived on Thursday
just as I was finishing up the last lashing of the tent awning. It had taken me a little over two hours to
set up the tent, but now we would be well sheltered from the unseasonable cold
and breezy Mountain. We managed to
finish pitching camp and get a quick scouting excursion out toward my intended
hunting area with hopes to roost a bird and perhaps find a few morel mushrooms
to accentuate dinner. It was early and
cold, but my trusty mushroom patch came through with a small pile of lusciously
fleshy fungus. The turkeys on the other
hand were tight lipped and not giving away themselves as easily.
We turned in that night comfortable in the warmth of the
wood stove, and our bellies full of one of the finest meals ever prepared in the
woods. Fresh morels fried in butter,
onion, and garlic sat piled atop archery killed venison round steaks seared in
a cast iron pan atop a vintage Coleman camp stove. Man-O-Man…..does it get any better than
that?
In the dark of the early morning hours, we dressed and
prepared some hot coffee and bagels. The
cold morning air was biting as the still bare branches rattled and brushed each
other in the breeze. Soon I would find
myself easing over that ridge and listening to the crunch, crunch, crunch of
the approaching animal. Now, the sounds
were getting closer. I strained to look
for the bobbing head or fanning feet of the approaching turkey. Suddenly the movement of a form allowed my
eyes and my brain to discern the shape.
It was another hunter. The air let out of my lungs and I watched the shotgun
toting hunter clad in the latest head to toe coordinating realtree
fashion. Did he think his outfit would make
him invisible to the bird’s ears as well?
He moved quickly by only pausing for a few seconds here and there. I had on a grey hat, green and grey checkered
wool shirt and solid green pants, yet this fellow never spotted me as he
wandered through during the perfect time of the morning. Oh well. I let him go on his way and slowly
crept back the way I had arrived placing some terrain between us. It was time for plan B.
Nary was a gobble heard that morning, so I skirted back to
my mushroom hunting area passing more trucks and hunters pouring out of the
woods on the access road. This was
public land hunting and the pressure was on.
I was content with the fact that I was spending some quality time with
my bow and finding a fair share of early mushrooms. These would go well with the dutch oven meal
I had planned for my visitors that evening.
I arrived back at camp and started the cooking preparations.
I dug a nice deep hole and started a fire from the hot coals still present in
my wood stove. I loaded this hole with
seasoned cherry firewood and created a nice hot bed of coals in the bottom. My brother arrived later with similar results regarding
the turkey despite carrying the shotgun.
It would seem that if the birds are not around, it doesn’t matter what
you carry on the hunt. I prefer my
lightweight bamboo and glass masterpiece.
I had pre-chopped onion, garlic, carrots, and had a good supply
of fresh butter from our local creamery to marry with the freshly chopped
mushrooms. Two bone-in shoulder blade
roasts were thawing in my cooler and they soon joined this concoction in a nice
hot dutch oven for a quick sear on my trusty coleman. I browned the roasts finally adding a cup of
water along with some apple slices and carefully placing yellow potatoes in
every spare space of the pan. By this
time, I had about 10 inches of hot coals in my pit. Shoveling out half of the coals I lowered in the
hot dutch and covered them with the remaining colas and dirt. Now, dinner was prepared. Not one to relax too much in camp, it was
time to stump shoot and scout as our guests filtered in and established their
tentage. I had a chuckle at the looks
from my hungry brother’s teenage son’s as I proceeded to tell him he was
standing on dinner.
By 8pm everyone had arrived and were ready to eat. Digging up the dutch was one of the
highlights of the trip to our guests, especially when they tasted the fall off
the bone tender venison that lay inside.
I will definitely be cooking this way again. What a great way to prepare a meal and go off
to hunt or fish as it cooks.
Well, the hunting party did not fare any better than I did
that first morning, seeing more hunters than game. I took to the local Put-and-Take trout stream
after our guests departed Saturday afternoon, as I was staying until Sunday to
tear down. I managed to wrangle up nine
fresh rainbow trout and several more morels.
That evening the cold rain started again, and my few remaining buds
enjoyed fried trout cooked in the iron and butter before retreating to the
warmth of canvas luxury.
While the birds did not cooperate on this trip, nature sure
provided me with success and lots of memories.
You just can’t get adventure and experiences like this from sitting in
front of a TV or by living in a sterile city world….YOU have to get out, get
real, and get back to the old ways… and do it.
Live it. This is the good life.
