Youth Hunting

Lifetime PF member, Brad Gustafson spends the day with son Alec, and dog Max, at Blonhaven Hunt Club, WI.

by Mark Herwig

Did you ever wonder why elk and antelope sometimes gather in big herds?

A few autumns ago I tagged along with a friend to learn how to hunt elk. His license was for the rugged wilderness south of Rawlins, Wyoming.

The night before, the high country where the elk, deer and antelope like to eat received a lot of snow, covering up their feed. In the morning, we found snow clogged roads and no elk.

We knew, however, that when it snows a lot, the animals have to migrate down to lower, snow-free range to eat. So, we headed off the mountain . . . and it wasn’t long before we found game. As we drove around a big hill on a lonely dirt trail, we spotted a huge herd of antelope walking fast down a broad, flat valley! But still, no elk.

The next day, we stayed low, but had to stop where the road was blocked by deep snow. So, we got out to walk. We didn’t go far before we spotted a big hill to the south that was covered with hundreds of elk! more…

By Sierra Amundson

Ryan Amundson and his daughter Sierra with her first gobbler bagged last April near Wheatland, Wyoming.

OK, so I’m not your average 11-year-old girl. I wear camo more than skirts. I’d rather ride my horse than play with Barbie, and I watch the Outdoor Channel instead of Disney.

I’ve gone hunting with my dad, Ryan, since I was in diapers. I passed the Wyoming hunter safety course two years ago and started carrying a shotgun myself and hunting birds last fall. In my short hunting career, I’ve harvested a couple mourning doves, a Canada goose and white tailed deer.

This story is about my first turkey hunt last spring in southeast Wyoming with my dad.

On a Friday night after school, we went to the property we would be hunting and ‘roosted’ some birds before dark – that is we heard them gobble from the roost so we knew where they would be in the morning when the season started.

Dad’s wake-up call came early the next morning, and we were in th more…

Hannah with her first Missouri squirrel

The morning dew glistened underfoot as Grandpa, my guide for my first Kentucky squirrel hunt, and I crossed a large pasture into the woods. I was visiting for Christmas from Mississippi and was intent on getting my first fox squirrel.

We walked almost noiselessly when Grandpa suddenly halted and soundlessly pointed to my left. I followed his gaze and my heart jumped to my throat as a large fox squirrel, big as a cat, ran along the top of an old stone fence. I nodded in agreement to try to get him, clicked my safety off, and waited until he stopped on a bare limb.

As I pulled the trigger of my pump 20 gauge, there was an almost inaudible click as the gun failed to go off. With my jaw clenched tight together in disappointment and frustration, I realized I had not properly seated a shell. By this time, the wary squirrel had skittered into a nearby hole. more…

By Christine Dimke

When the alarm goes off in the morning, it is always a struggle of will.

“Do I go pheasant hunting or do I roll over, pull up the covers and go back to sleep?”

As music blares out of the radio, I decide to just get up and see if dad is awake. If not, then I can go back to sleep. Of course, he’s been up for an hour preparing and I’d better get going or we’ll be late.

I fall back into bed and the dream begins………I sigh and think of how cold it is this morning and how warm my bed is. I go get my stuff and remember my hat to cover my ‘disaster zone’ hair since I did not and will not brush it this morning. That is how it all starts.

more…