Curiosity and Hope: A Beginners’ Diary by Dan Neebes
I am a new hunter. My grandfather would go away for a week every November for deer camp when I was young. He went for the comradery, to be near old friends and to be alone with himself as he held his rifle and sat motionless in a tree stand. To be completely honest, he wasn’t one for shooting the deer though. The last tag he notched was during the Bush administration, the first one. So, when I was urged to participate in Upland hunting a couple of years back by my good friend, now RGS & AWS Regional Coordinator, Gabe Stone, I accepted primarily out of sheer curiosity.
In the time since, I have received quite the education. I’ve been able to watch as dogs work scent like a speed bag and then lock up on point in the very next moment. I have logged miles in my boots and survived near suffocation at the hands of upland brush. I have been soaked, overheated, and outshot. As a result of these inconveniences, I have also discovered that they make the taste of victory so much sweeter.
Last year, at Grouse Camp in Eagle River, Wisconsin, I spent the better part of an afternoon best described as being grumpy. I didn’t quite grasp the level of passion around grouse hunting as many others did in Camp. Looking back now, I was short-sighted, both literally and figuratively, as I was looking down, trying to watch my step instead of taking in the forest around me. It wasn’t until my buddy Garrett shot an American Woodcock, his first in fact, that I suddenly realized that this activity didn’t have anything to do with me. It’s so much larger than that.
As that day of hunting was coming to an end, I too connected with my first Woodcock. Holding and admiring that funny-looking little bird shed new light on the endeavor entirely. Chasing these birds builds friendship both two and four legged, it affords quality time to be spent outside in the wonders of Autumn and if you’re lucky, it puts delicious food on the table. Grouse Camp enlightened me to this, and I am very grateful. I used to feel worn down and beat up after a day afield; now I feel fulfilled, especially knowing that the dogs do too.
As I write this, a year later than I initially had planned, I find myself back at Trees for Tomorrow in Eagle River, Wisconsin at my second Grouse Camp. Today was the first of two hunting days wherein a hundred or so mentees headed into the woods with their mentors. Many birds were seen (and heard), plenty of shots were fired and a handful of birds were harvested. Although the day was plagued with rain and not everyone returned with a bird, all arrived back with a smile excited to share their stories of the day despite being soaked to the bone.
Tonight, we will reunite and regale each other over a toast to the birds and the forest which holds them. This used to be my favorite part of Grouse Camp, but it isn’t any longer. My favorite part of Grouse Camp, I have come to understand, is standing in the middle of the woods with my friends, hoping that in the name of everything holy, I have a decent shot at the next bird. It usually doesn’t work out that way but hey, a guy can hope. I’m leaving with a few Woodcock that I’m looking forward to preparing with caramelized onion in a red wine sauce. Until next year…
