"Open Season"

It seems like only a few months ago everything had just been stowed away. “Open Season” is just around the corner again. This year seems to have passed us quicker than any other.

My backpack has been checked and “re-loaded” with the usual paraphernalia associated with spending time in tree stands, calling or hauling game out of the woods or just trying to be comfortable (dry and warm). Last weekend the white oaks started “dropping” and while I was out scouting the game lands I could hear an occasional ping or pop when the acorns hit something hard. Thankfully none have hit me square on the head (so far).

The leaves are beginning to change too. Neighbors will begin to “chase” them, or rake or blow the leaves into piles and off of their lawns. During the past few weeks we’ve had some rain so the ground seems fairly soft. Those who were smart enough to plant new lawns in early September this year will have much to show for their efforts. Last year was drier and more of a challenge because we’d started hunting in a new area and weren’t acquainted with all the landmarks, the places to go and things to avoid. Maybe we’ll be able to track the local fauna more reliably. This year we hope to build on what we learned from last year except that there’ll be fewer of us.

Summer activities included a lot of “home maintenance 101”, a little bit of travel and attending some family events. Occasionally Dad and I have discussed bits and pieces of the plan for the fall and early winter. I didn’t get to practice with my bow this year because of a nagging elbow problem. We were reminded that it was time to enjoy what exists today and to prepare for tomorrow. Our sense of urgency renewed when we learned of the eminent development of nearby properties.

My regular gun jammed in the off season so I will be tromping the woods during the late fall with a different one. The muzzle loader that I’ve used for the past few years has been recently sighted in and cleaned. There’s a certain comfort about having these items marked off my mental checklist before opening day.

It’s easy to tease yourself into thinking that this year things will go smoother or that we’ll all be better prepared for what’s to come. For some of us the “destination” is what it’s all about, opening day or a clean, quick harvest or a trophy. I guess that’s part of it. Right now I am thinking about that seasonal journey towards hunting season… the first part seems to have already started again.

There’s an old Chaucer proverb that concludes “all good things come to an end” or some variant of that conclusion. Why can’t good things just change and be handed down?

Let the public decide

I recently posted some letters to editors of more than one local newspaper. The responses I received differed slightly but I was left wondering what sort of business ethics apply to media outlets when they decide to cover certain stories. It’s important to remember that not so long ago we lived in a world without blogs or an Internet where so many things are so easily verified (or worse). I've come to the conclusion that we need to put today's tools to better use.

My first letter to an editor was “softened”. The source of the confusion was the header of the webpage that readers click to make their submissions. Instead of 250 words as the page indicated, the paper had recently decided to change its policy to 200 words or less when it comes to soliciting their reader’s thoughts. Three weeks have passed since my complaint to the Opinion Editor about this problem and the website hasn’t changed a bit. Readers are still left to wonder if they are allowed to submit as many as 250 or 200 words if they have something to say.

I am brutally aware that I am no William Shakespeare and expected some minor edits but what I didn’t expect was for editors to remove real content. I was especially disappointed because I had already gone to some great lengths to summarize the facts of my submission.

I objected because the information that was pruned from my letter was the heart of my submission. My post had been gutted. It shouldn’t surprise you that my letter exposed the media’s failure to report certain facts about a recent event or person. Up to a point I suppose they could have used space and time (the number of words and a deadline) to explain the absence of certain facts. They might have been unaware that such information even existed or was so easy to verify. Then again, I make a point of referencing my sources which are very public and supposedly impartial.

Later the same month I made another submission to yet another local paper. Granted this second paper was known for its personal slant on many issues but I thought that it might be worth some time and effort just to see if they might print an opposing view or one that challenged their coverage. Much to my surprise, they did.

The second letter prompted a phone call from one of their reporting staff. I was almost immediately asked if my letter had in some way been provoked by a personal experience. Of course I answered honestly (and “yes”), and I expect that this probably disqualified me in the mind of the reporter.

Later on in the conversation I had with the reporter from the second newspaper I was amazed by his relative frankness. The “reporter” basically said to me that the audience that reads what his employer creates is more interested in information that supports certain points of view (not mine) and that he and I would always disagree on the issue in question. So he’d more or less confirmed all my suspicions about the kind of coverage he intended to provide.

Since then I’ve been left to wonder about the media even more than I have in the past. Why does the public treat major media outlets with suspicions which they didn’t have in the past? After all, aren’t the days of “it isn’t real until you read it in the morning paper” gone? We’re not just talking “Blather-gate” where a blog exposed Dan Rather’s agenda when it came to a president’s service in the National Guard. More likely we’re talking issues that are not usually front page news.

I guess my point here is that when reporters and editors decide what facts are relevant and which ones don’t deserve space or time in their columns, aren’t they in a position where they often “withhold” facts that the public might need to know? Shouldn’t their work (now that we have an Internet that makes sharing of information so much easier and more efficient) include footnotes, website links and other references to (objective?) sources wherever possible?

When it comes to issues and broad as Global Warming, Middle East or local politics, court cases or celebrity gossip are we doomed to reading and hearing what the media has decided for us? Has the media forgotten its mission to report the facts (as many as are verifiable) and to let the public decide for itself what’s important, right or wrong?

When will the media feel more of an obligation to qualify their sources? Why should the public be satisfied with the media’s interpretations (or headlines and sound bytes) of what the news really is? If some of us want to take a closer look at things, and the media is interested in earning some public trust, aren't we owed some "easy access" to source information (links, email addresses, contact information)?

Walks in the woods...

This year’s turkey hunting was different than past years. I felt a little bit better prepared. At least I thought I knew where I was going and we knew that there was game in the area. A handheld GPS with some half dead batteries was in my knapsack just in case we needed to airlift someone out on a clear day (fat chance). We might be able to make a cell phone call out after getting decent line of sight on a cell tower. The property is gorgeous and you can see Table Rock from many vantage points on the trails and from the field.

The preparations included all the usual antics. I had half my stuff over at my fathers place and the other half in my truck. The loading didn’t start until a complete inventory was taken and certain items were promptly placed on the “nice to have but won’t have it” list. It wasn’t like we were going to be gone for weeks or far from a place where we could buy another (of whatever it might be that's missing).

I hadn’t practiced my turkey calling but wasn’t worried. The goal of this expedition was to get as far away from work as possible. I’d left word with the poor guy that backs me up that I’d be “on the moon” meaning that the cell phone wouldn’t be on and I wouldn’t be calling in before I got back. Hell, it’s not like they were going to pay either of us extra for the long distance corporate drama and there's not much I could do to help anyway. Some things would just have to wait... I guess that defines what is really "just far enough away".

The tendency for hunters to go through their mental checklists after it’s too late is something we’ve gotten better at over the years. On the way out the door we remembered that the alarm clock was still in the house. I couldn’t think of a better way to begin a short vacation if I tried.

On the way into camp we visited the owner’s of the camps house (Leonard) and said “hello”. We learned then that we’d have the place pretty much to ourselves for the first few days. This was almost too much to believe. Just maybe we’d come home with a gobbler? We settled in that night to a very quiet camp and it was cold enough to almost want to start a fire but not so bad it was actually “needed”. Great sleeping weather!

I made my way outside for the first morning hunt about 10 minutes too late. Isn’t that the way it always is? We just had to have breakfast and I filled my travel mug with coffee before heading out the camp door with my shotgun. These are the kinds of mistakes that you’re not supposed to make on opening day… you supposedly learned this lesson from prior years. We'd file this under "lessons re-learned or re-re-learned" in our logbooks. You can't make up for lost time in the woods if you don't leave camp on time.

No sooner than I was a hundred and fifty yards from camp than I heard gobbling. At least one gobbler was off his roost and looking for hens before I’d had a chance to set up. I’d made plans to walk up this one path and settle down where I could look down on some ground that overlooked a gas line. Before I could reach the top of the hill, I could see the outline of some birds. I “waited them out” to see where they might go and they had headed for the other side of the hill. Lord knows if they actually heard or saw me. On second thought, I bet they did. They had the sun behind them so I couldn’t see what really happened. I needed to be some place where I wouldn’t be the one with the sun in his eyes.

Eventually I finished kicking myself and settled down in old turkey blind. Maybe we could get down to business... if I could just get comfortable. It wasn't an issue about clothes or the other gear... it's more of a mental thing some mornings. You coach yourself into remembering where you are and to not to get all hung up on what you've done to get there. You eventually focus on what you have to do... or the "here and now". It's a life strategy that rush hour traffic can teach you if you're smart enough to learn it. I wasn't driving my desk this morning and we were all after a different kind of turkey today. This one had real feathers and spurs. Once things were more or less in order I could rustle up a slate call and let out a few purrs to get warmed up.

I heard sounds from all over. Gobblers were off the property and downhill on the gas line. It was a “National Geographic Moment” when two pileated woodpeckers were playing peek-a-boo around this old rotten oak tree. It would have also beed a "Kodak moment" too except that the weather predictions said "rain" and I didn't want to risk getting my camera wet. They traded sides of the tree while chasing one another and fed from the ground. It was hard not to be jealous of them. They had a wonderful backyard to play in all year long and I'd have to leave in a few days.

Before long I saw movement uphill and out of range. There was plenty of light so I could pretty much see that they were hens. No reason to get bent out of shape yet… not with the world’s best turkey decoys (live hens) strutting all around you. It lasted for about half an hour or so. I don’t know if they got tired of the scenery or if they figured me out.

Around lunchtime I knew Dad would be looking for me. Because I’d not heard any shots from where he said that he’d been hunting, I figured neither one of us had anything to show for our morning in the woods. That was okay as far as I was concerned because this was never a competition.

It’s always interesting when you gather up your gear for the trek back to camp. It’s a good thing I double checked my pockets because I almost left a striker for one of my turkey calls behind. I had a spare and having two of anything handy is usually nice but having “one you want” isn’t always an option when you’ve lost it or even just left it behind.

Dad was ready and waiting (for lunch) when I got back. I learned a few minutes later that the brand new hearing aids he’d packed were in camp (in his suitcase) all morning while he was across the creek. We shook our heads about our transgressions from proper hunting technique and talked about what the hunting would be like on Monday.

I spent Monday morning in the same little blind as before without the benefit of all the wild bird activity. This forced me to think of other places for the afternoon patrol. As I started down the road in front of the camp, one of the other hunters reminded me to “walk slow and listen for clucking” when he heard me say where I was going. This was "my last appointment with the woods" today and I wasn’t going to miss it, so it probably looked like I was in a hurry.

Later on this same guy (Danny, who is Leonards oldest son) would follow my footsteps up the same path. He (accidentally?) found his way onto a neighbor’s property and ambushed a gobbler that wasn’t even on my radar if you know what I mean. More seriously, if I don’t have personal permission to hunt in a strange place, I prefer to pretend that it’s not even there. Anyway, I ended up seeing some more hens on the way uphill on this path but kept my distance and hoped that they hadn’t seen me. Little did any of us know at the time, but Danny ended up chasing at least one more hen in the same direction on that same road. At least that's my guess about what happened anyway...

After spending the better part of the afternoon purring and stalking the local wildlife, I decided to head back to camp so Dad and I could have a "proper dinner" in town. This meant that the camp shower would see some use and where we’re at, this is a task best performed in daylight. On the way down the hill in the middle of the road I can’t believe my eyes A perfectly clean turkey egg was waiting for me. I kept it in a pocket in my new turkey hunting vest until I got into camp.

The sun was starting to get low and Dad was waiting for me on the porch. He was pretty much "ready to go" and have dinner in town. He asked if I’d seen “anything”. I told him that I “got one”. Obviously there were no birds in my game pouch and not having anything to show for it was just asking for more questions or dumb looks so I offered up that “I’d got mine with my bare hands”. When he offered that he’d hadn't heard any shots, that’s when I showed off my little “gem” or the egg. We both had a laugh. At about that time a shot was heard in the distance, on the other side of the property line. About a half hour later we pulled the same drill on Danny when he came out of the woods with a gobbler draped over one shoulder and a grin that went from one ear to the other.

Our day was complete. We’d all had a good time.