Turkey Feathers Make Everything Better.

Remember this: When life has you down and it’s not hunting season there is no reason “not” to go into the woods.

 
I have been in a bad mood because my brother told me something that confirmed some situation that has been surrounding me. Up till now it was no more than a vague idea crossing my mind based on someone else's behavior. No one would say anything to me so I was left with the poison thorns put in my path and had to go it alone as well. It has bothered me because I am in a quandary on what to do about it. Now I know what flesh eating bacteria feels like except I don't think I'm going to lose a limb over this; at least I hope not.I moved my camera to an undisclosed location to see if I could catch anything. There was a debate that there might not be anything worth having in that lot of woods. I took my laptop to check it in the woods and put the memory card back in it. The only thing on it was my boobs. The pile was not disturbed even though I knew something was there. I am going to leave it for about three days. Hopefully the battery will not die. It’s on 90%. I dropped some more pears. The apples from the last timer were gone.

I don't know why but when I put that camera up I had gotten it into my head that I was going to come back, divert the grassy area by walking in the woods to see what was on the other side since the storm. I had my mind dead set on finding some turkey feathers. ESP? Deja Vu? Who the hell knows? I just wanted some turkey feathers. I followed the tree line of the woods which was outlined by a small ditch/fire break. Let me tell you it was a mess. I thought I would find some old turkey nest and there would be feathers. I had to use the machete to chop this tree out of the way. I am sure the neighbors were wondering what I was doing back there as the one man's Jack Russell would not shut it up.
I can only imagine if he had let that beast loose I would be back there chopping away while some crumb snatcher was gnawing my leg. Much like the annoying sounds of mosquito.
It was really humid and my clothes were wet with sweat. I should have built myself a fire and chanted. It was like a sweat lodge.
I was having all kinds of anxiety. I had a raging headache and felt a little out of sorts. After I got in there whacking away at my problem in my head I forgot about it and my maladies were gone. I wondered back to the end of the path. I found one turkey feather that was brown and white striped. It was around 14 inches. I stuck it in my ponytail sideways. I wondered some more. I found a smaller one that was iridescent. I jammed that one in there to. Beats carrying them. I stood for a moment in the area because there are a lot of dirt piles long covered with forest debris. You could see the trail marks where things had come and gone and worn them down. I didn't go deep in the area because I knew the wildlife would probably stay around the edge of the tree line. I guess that is why they tell you to measure the distance from the center of the field to the edge of the woods. Someone comes a shooting you only have so much time to make a run for it and for cover; duck and weave-duck and weave.

For 'dumb' animals that's pretty smart. I went in and out of the woods in this field's edge. I didn't see any tracks what so ever so nothing came across it since the wind and rain. The wildlife is probably feasting off those corn fields and people's personal gardens. My dad told me that they ate up all his broccoli, squash, beans, and whatever else they couldn't tote off. Probably thought it was an Outdoor Golden Corral? I was watching a show last night where moose will tear up a broccoli field. Can't say I blame them.

I stuck to the inner edge which was about 12-15 yards from the outside of the field. I found another feather at the usual spot I see them go in or come out of. It was the brown one I posted on my page. I measured it to be 14 1/4 inch long. There was a serious quill on it. I stuck that one in my hair to. I can only imagine if someone had come a rolling up on me back there holding a machete in my hand, turkey feathers 14 inches off my head, serious tan, and the crazy eye.
 
It did give me a sense of being mentally off the grid in a indigenous kind of way. Being a little wild heathen is not a bad thing every now and again. Add turkey feathers and you've got a walking crazy bomb. I just didn't feel choked down by situations or things that were mental prisons I had to worry over. Shit that brings you down is like being in prison. It’s God awful.
 
Anna Botsford Comstock had wrote about two occupations for Saturday afternoon or forenoon (I think anytime but she had a target audience), " Out in this , God's beautiful world, there is everything waiting to heal lacerated nerves, to strengthen tired muscles, to please and content the soul that is torn to shreds with duty and care."(Comstock 3)
 
I hear this strange clutch of noises that sounded like baby raptors. I went to investigate. I was almost right on top of them when I saw up in the tree top the parent bird. She was skipping a beat with her cries. The fledgling birds were making a racket to but they were moving around. I decided she / he must be teaching her babies to hunt or fend for themselves. There was a pissy squirrel raising hell down there to. That must have been what it was after. I watched her from where I was. The bird perched on a limb and you could see her cranking her neck as she was looking at me. I decided to move along but it followed me around the tree tops watching.
 
I sat down on this old fallen tree that was bark-less and turning green. I pondered my problems. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I had been here before but because of my state of mind a couple of years ago I was really in a bad place. I didn't want to do for anyone. My attitude was let everyone rot in Hell for their sins. I wasn't going to put my hand out to help one drowning soul. I did without a lot and I mean a lot. my mentality was rebellion or maybe it was right down nastiness.
I feel like there was something I missed, or someone I went by? Some situation I should have connected to but I wasn't exactly ready. I felt like Magua out for blood. Eat your enemy’s heart I thought. Put them under the knife if you will. It’s a mentality not an actual intent to do harm.
 
I then thought of going into this store the other day. I was in the book aisle. I randomly picked up a book and read just one page. One page mind you. That page said to me, it was one of those devotional type books, in summary:
 
“I have burdened you with many situations that were not all good. Even in your pain I removed you for a great while because I am clearing your mind. For you to do what I want you must have a clear mind and up till now you have been polluted by the world and people around you. You have cried many tears and cursed life for what it has done. All these things I have done to you to bring you to this place where the many blessings I have in store for you, will now be given. Even though there are many troubles and obstacles in your path ~do not given up~ for you will succeed in the things you are to do. Do not give up.”
 
I thought this was a rather odd and random thing for me to do. I shut the book and thought someone had just told me something I really needed to hear.
I guess that is another thing about the mystery of life: One needs to recognize the clue that is given and follow it through?
 
Most people think I am bat shit crazy anyway because they don't bother to get to know me. Just judge me from the fence. I say keep doing that one day you'll learn.
 
I walked along the field because I heard 'walking' behind me. I walked up on this black snake that was a yardstick in length with a lot of small bumps in its body. It was sunning itself beside a root that almost made me not see it. It looked like two chopsticks side by side. I crossed over in and out of a ditch them climbed up on a dirt hill to look around. I headed back to my truck parallel to the road access that was over grown with grasses.
 
I finally sweated myself back to my truck via the continual barks of the Jack Russell. I loaded up and pulled out. As I pulled out of the path and drove home I looked back out at the field I had been walking along the edges of. Out there were three turkeys. One had blown himself up. I started laughing. Those bastards had been hiding somewhere there the whole time. I turned around because I wanted to see the Ninjas for myself. There they were.
 
Gobble Gobble, in the field. I laughed all the way home.
 
Written by: W Harley Bloodworth
 
~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Literature Cited and Suggested Reading:

Comstock, Anna Botsford. Handbook of Nature Study. Ithaca, New York:Cornell University Press, (1939). pp. 3. Print

Link to order:
http://www.cornellpress.cornell.edu/book/?GCOI=80140100925610

Neptune's Favorite Fish



Remember this: Under the wave and in the current is a school men try to learn from but seldom do.

I hadn't the opportunity to go to the beach much this summer but I wanted to go to the beach for my birthday present. It seemed everything plotted against me but finally I made it there. I just felt like I should be at the beach. Maybe I didn't get there on the day I was supposed to but ole well. I finally got there.

I got my hunting and fishing license but the douche bag selling it to me gave me the combo when I just wanted the salt water fishing which is $10.00. I have to read up on using nets because there's something about using a hoop net; just what I need, to be fined by the game warden for doing something illegal. That salesman really had a sucky attitude then lied to the man about me telling him I wanted a combo. I just told them it was more trouble to fix the problem. I was limited on time for having to waste more of my time on an error someone else made which would impeded my fishing. I don't like my fishing being impeded.
I also got another tent because my six person tent somehow lost its aluminum pole set up and looks much like a deflated balloon. I am hoping to do a lot of camping over Fall when the weather is nice and the mosquitos go to Mexico to drink Tequila and Jalapeno-ladened blood.
On the way there I was trying to divert traffic and pulled into a small mall that was hidden. Found the Lowes Whole Food Grocery store and fell in love. I bought some deli sandwiches, green grapes, apples, and drinks for the beach.
I don't like to carry a lot of stuff to the beach because you're tired when you come out. I am no pack mule.
There is a lot of people at the beach too or maybe it was gophers because they left a lot of holes that weren't filled in.
While me and my son were eating in the picnic area I spied an older woman and a young kid talking about family problems when I thought to myself: that kid doesn't want to deal with that crap; he's at the beach.
After eating we headed out to the sands, which is a clean beach aside from the human gopher holes and the area to the right which is for dog poop and sun bathers. Go figure?
My son wanted to get a tan but he doesn't have the patience to lie on a yoga mat for the time it takes. Besides I gave him a bath in sun block because I didn't want to deal with the lobster tan if he got burnt. He finally hit the water because once he is in you can't get him out?
The ocean water was very warm.
I sat down and fixed my rod which reminds me of a bee because it is yellow and black. I believe I put enough shrimp on the hooks to provide the fish o' the sea with a modest Red Lobster buffet.  I headed out while the tide was at the low end. As the tide began to come in I started picking with myself saying:
"Oh Great Neptune, I pray you send me the great Mahi Mahi or a Flounder. I will feed the masses with just one fish."
I was thinking of Jesus feeding a lot of people with bread and fish but I ain't Jesus.
I know. I am so full of bullshit but fisherwomen need their ju-ju. I had no sooner got it out of my mouth when I got two bites then the line went flat. I thought maybe it was a gnarly crab playing with me. So I reeled her in. My son was standing over the line waiting to see what I had. He better be glad I didn't catch a shark. Then the fish popped up. It was about 6-8 inches. The body was silver white with canary yellow fins. It was soft like baby's skin and warm. I laughed and told my son we should eat him in jest. My son looked mortified.
”Can we let it go? Its only one fish?”
I walk out of the surf waving my hand like a wind sock running to the hunting bag to get something to unhook the fish with while yelling "Catch and Release. Catch and Release."
I got a good chuckle off of that one let me tell you. I gave my son a zip lock bag to get some water so I could put the fish in before it died. I got the hook out and dropped it down in the bag of water to see if it was breathing. I told my son I prayed to Neptune to give me a fish and I got a fish.
My son said, "That was Neptune's favorite fish!” He seemed kind of fearful.
I said, "I guess I have to give it back? It’s only one fish. I doubt I will catch another one. Go turn it loose."
My son runs back to the shore and dumps the oceanic hostage.
He came back and told me, "Mom, I let that fish go and he sat there and stared at me then swam off."
I laughed at the fish creeping him out.
"That's Neptune's favorite fish. I have probably saved us all from great disaster. You never know what the weather will do besides what if he comes to collect that fish. What am I supposed to do? Go buy him one at Wal-Mart and tell him the other unfortunately died? We gave it a proper burial and flushed it down the toilet. "
It looked like a small version of a Pompano. It was a beautiful fish.
I guess the one thing that stood out was when I touched it I thought how sympathetic I was for it. Its flesh felt just like a human persons, not like a slimy scaly cold fish. Sometimes they are pretty covered with their slime juices and they smell; which this one didn't. It was the strangest fish I had ever held.
There was one moment when my son went to shore and ate an apple. I guess while he was up there he was fuming thing over. He comes back to where I am fishing and says to me, "You need to go to a bar and hit on every man you see until you get satisfaction." I was horrified at this prospect. Made me think of Eat, Love, Pray when Julia's Roberts Boyfriend's son tells the father it’s time to have sex with her.
By 7:30 pm the sun was almost gone but the ocean water turned into this silvery blue water that looked like Mercury.
We decided to leave and go eat at California Pizza, browse Barnes and Nobles until they closed. While at California Pizza it sounded like bombs were going off outside and the waitress was ducking while looking out the window. I didn't know they were having fireworks and a band out there. Happy Accident! We finally made it home about 12: 00 am. I was beat. So was my son.
 
Written by: W Harley Bloodworth
 
~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Genji and the Scope of Things.

Remember this: There is always an eye looking through the cross-hairs, hedges, or the peep hole.

Disclaimer: Before you read ahead make sure you've talked to your parents about the birds and the bees, and don't get the itchy finger to google the word Shunga.

Valentine's Day is upon us. Love or resentment is in the air. Card, candy and flower companies are dancing in the streets and grown women everywhere are fearing they will get a plush teddy bear instead of a three day weekend to Paris, the City of Love.

There are probably many a man co-miserating with his brethren, as are women. To extend the olive branch, I wondered to myself in the spirit of hunting, what could possibly be explored in the way of love, Japanese literature, guns, and hiccups. Hiccups are like love. You never know when it's going to hit you. You then flop around like fish trying to get rid of it. You could hyperventilate in a brown paper bag; works for love and hiccups.

I will be the first to admit; I have no idea what I am doing here.

Onward.

Somewhere in time a poet put to pen a sonnet, dripping with emotion. What exactly that emotion was depended on how upset or enamored the poet was with the object of affection. This could have been done privately, publicly or completely withheld. Rejection is an awful shame, no matter where it's passed off.

I haven't met a hunter that would stop, write a bit of prose before he shot an animal; unless he's multi-tasking.

One book of privilege to read is The Tales of Genji. In the Tales of Genji, a classic Japanese work written by noblewoman and lady-in-waiting, Murasaki Shikibu in the early 11^th century, you find lots of intrigue. The phrase, “I will make you love me” comes to mind.

Upon my reading, all things are up for debate. Moving on with the idea here, the story is about a man, a woman , and a lot of forbidden love. What could make Valentine's Day any better than a good forbidden love saga, kidnapping and Stockholm syndrome? Secrets...lots of secrets. There is also the mention of hunting.

One interesting word that is used is kaimami or “peeking”. This could also be a version of Peeping Tom-isms or voyeurism. If you've elevated peeping to an art form maybe you're just playing out a past life where screen action was all you got. Oh that love-from-afar. The time period for this tale is during the Heian and Kamakura courts. There seem to be a lot of reference to forced or coerced sexual encounters. The end game fact being, the woman's acknowledgment of being the conquest. Nowadays, if a man or woman forces themselves off on another it's rape, assault or stalking. You can't force a person to love you but these Japanese characters seem to do a bam up job of it. Even Pepe LePew got the cat to love him in the end. Stink and all.

There is four ways this kaimami plays itself out:

1. One night stands (Yep!)
2. Sexual initiation by the woman (Yep!)
3. Period of unrequited love, unacknowledged or even secret love ending as the man acts out his desires on the object of his affection. (Say what? I weighed the number of chicken shits in this world. Yep, nature is definitely out of balance.)
4. Both parties are already in love and care for each other as a natural progression of sentiment. (Like mold on bread).

As you travel through the story, you find incidents that are parallel to hunting in some rather humorous and beautiful ways. The act of hunting itself is worked into the stories fabric as analogous to courtship. These particular passages uphold the male hunter as the aggressor, so not to point the ugly finger at men, we'll just set that fact aside because it doesn't seem fair. We'll blame the Amazons later to make it even.

Here is a passage to read and reflect:

“In the first episode of the Ise monogatari (Tales of Ise; 905), a poem-tale (uta monogatari) that greatly influenced Murasaki Shikibu, a man of exemplary courtly sensitivity is hunting near the ruined old capital of Nara when he catches a glimpse of two beautiful sisters through a gap in their hedge. Courtship is here analogous to the hunt, or an extension of it, with the women as the symbolic prey and the hedge as the enclosing wilderness. Following the homo neccans pradign, the man is compelled to aggression; but instead of killing the prey, he sublimates his violence by tearing a strip from his hunting robe to dash off an elegantly allusive poem about the fabric’s random design and his amorous confusion. The poem suggests that the forceful rubbing of a moss-fern pattern onto the cloth reflect the sisters’ powerful imprint on the poet’s heart.” (Bargen 1)

I recall previous writings, where the hunter is stumbling through the woods when he encounters a beautiful woman, much to his downfall. Here you have a hunter going through the woods, spying on women (prey) through a gap in 'their hedge'. The hedges are the enclosing wilderness as a barrier to the women.Yet he is compelled to aggression. Why is this?

I wondered if this weren't another one of those sneaky symbolic switcher-ma-roo moments where “hedges”,  “enclosing wilderness” and “moss-fern pattern”meant a woman's body part and that made the man aggressive, whilst rubbing in amorous confusion. It doesn't take a scientist, after you peruse a lot of Japanese Erotic Art (Shunga) such as Katsushika Hokusai, The Adonis Plant, to figure it out.  I do snicker at the ones with the octopi which make me think someone was taking a jab at old dudes back in the day. They were probably all arms, hands, and gums. No dentures need apply.

Community Service: Just look at great art. It will change your life.

What makes a man crazy? What makes a woman crazy? Prolonged isolation during this time period could make a man crazy. Those long lonely nights. On the other hand, the writer could have just as easily gave the character a Pepe LePew attitude. I then think of the current day. Men and women are just or if not more so aggressive in this endeavor. One could wonder if it's the idea  all hunting is an aggressive act, like shopping on Black Friday. Not to say, this hunter was a savage but the terms, “ exemplary courtly sensitivity” sprang up so we could assume there was a certain amount of reserve building up. Once “in the wilderness” man wants to revert back to his bush-whacking state.

I know....I am awful.

The hunter turns poet as the dynamic of his acts and mind change. There is also the symbolic rubbing of the moss-fern pattern to consider. I am thinking this might be symbolic of a more erotic nature. Depending on how fast he wrote and rubbed said strip of fabric.

Fast forward to this century, man is still spying through the hedges dressed in Mossy Oak, feeling all poetic up in that tree, or deer stand; aggressively amorous and confused at the same time. Logging on to the internet, those same hunters are spying on women through the internet peep hole; probably still dressed in Mossy Oak, feeling amorous and unfulfilled. It's a hazard. Simultaneously peeping through a rifle scoop at deer, lusting after their horns and meat. Whatever the eyes see, the eyes covet.

When you consider looking into the cross-hairs, that is a form of spying through the hedges except you are looking at wild game, which in other views can be analogous to women. Hunters and huntresses still desire the animals they view within the scope, binocular, or even lazy eye.

Courtship-wise not much is happening because people are truly isolated and apprehensive. Herein, there is a substitution of sacrifice for the dark shadow the hunter feels towards the women by tearing a strip off the old hunting robe to write about the design. Oh distraction! There has also been comparison to hunting as a dance or courtship between hunter and prey. The prey ends up dead.

I don't know any hunters that would be moved off the task of hunting because if they want to see a beautiful naked girl can google that while in a deer stand and go on a self-date. People don't need each other anymore. We have become obsolete in seductive circles. Reproduction wise a doctor can do that for you without even so much as an orgasm. Where is the fun in that? Living in deprivation I tell you!

As we look at another passage:

In a myth recorded in the Kojiki (Record of Ancient Matters; 712), a male desire and longing lead to the violation of taboo and to pursuit by female furies. In the archetypal hunt, life requires killing and killing necessitates sacrificial ritual. By retaining the hunt as an aristocratic pastime and sacrifice as an aesthetic gesture, the opening episode from the Ise monogatari signals the transition to the prevalent form of Heian courtship ritual, in which the aggressive gesture of kaimami seems totally absorbed into aesthetic pleasure. While the kaimami courtship ritual in the Ise episode still reflects elements of the underlying archetypal patter of raw force and the confrontation with death in a hunt, kaimami in the Genji is almost entirely dissociated from this pragmatic function. Only the occasional hunting disguise remains. In the Genji, the raw violence of hunting is reduced to a male social discourse of cunning necessitated by the sequestering of women. (Bargen 1-2)

The sequestering of women? Get out of here. All you have to do is look at a person's social media wall. If you have all that to look at why would you need me?

Kaimami's aggression turns into aesthetic pleasure for some people because all they want to do is peep. The moment said peeper decides to act on his ambitions and in what way, is what causes the problem. Not having the aptitude to stop oneself is a red flag you need some help. Every time we turn on the television to watch anything we become voyeurs. People love to watch their soft porn love scenes because it's their guilty pleasure. We could think in terms here of a hunter looking through his scope at a ten point buck and his ambitions are on the deer.He instantaneously lusts after it. This does end in violence if he hits the target; then there is meat for all.

Turning our attention to a scope on a gun or even binoculars, we find hunters and huntresses spying on things close up and far away. Some even spy on land owners or each other.

Now class lets delve into a woman's “mono no ke”. This term loosely means monster or spirit but the term is not always what it appears in the Japanese language. I would think its that aspect of the vision of a woman that dries men crackers. Same for women.....just one whiff is all it takes. What confuses me is the idea that looking through a hole gives you power over another thing. Maybe that is why we see a lot of eyeball art. Eyeballs everywhere; even on the one dollar bill.

“The hole in the fence not only serves men to access their power over women; it is also the site of women’s mono no ke - the spirits who intimidate their audience and aim to correct men’s excessive vision.” (Bargen 3)

I read this and this song was in my head:

There is a place in France,

Where the naked ladies dance

There's a hole in the wall

Where the men can see it all.

With that being said, this is what fathers are for: to poke those eyes out.

“In the Genji it is not the fulfillment or frustration of desire that becomes the focus of the narrative so much as the elegant and elaborate process of courtship: the poetry, the carefully chosen words, the calligraphy, the choice of paper, the evocation scent, the overheard music.” (Bargen 5)

When you stand back and look at hunting, it is elegant and elaborate as a process and past time from early man, to present day trials and tribulations. Somewhere in the down scaling of hunting as an art, with its social interactions, we have lost something; the rituals. When I say rituals, I don't mean wearing the same dirty underwear or carrying around a dried up rabbit foot, but the intercourse between people who can form relationships where no relationship existed. You could find this in other ways but people are not. The competitive spirit robs these acts as well because its a back biting industry. Then you have the paranoid.

Courtship is almost non-existent in this day and age. People have no clue what they are doing. Now it's speed dating, cyber-sex, self-help books, and geographical abstinence.

What of our lovelorn hunters and huntresses? There is no ritual exchange of poetic emotion or the revealing of innermost feelings. It's a desert with no water or cracker in sight.

Lastly.......

“Never “I love you” in the unmistakably direct emotional cascade of Romantic Love that flooded through the courts of Europe several hundred of years later; but, above all, never “I hate you.” (Bargen 5-6)

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Sources Cited:

Bargen, Doris G. A Woman's Weapon: Spirit Possession in the Tale of Genji. Hawaii, USA: University of Hawai'l Press. (1997). pp.1-6, Print.

Here Comes the Judge......

You're either a muppet or a puppet. Go figure.

 

 

 

 Remember this: People, Governments and their policies make hunting complicated. Look to the problems of your abutting Country. Their problems can soon become your problems.

 

 

As always upon closer imspection of events and details I thought this was an interest course of events to explore and look back over. Lets take a closer look and see what there is to see.

I was reading this dated article, “Metis Victorious in Hunting Rights Case” written by Joan Taillon from 2001. Members of the Powley family went into an area and shot a moose without a government issued license, self-tagged it, and then took the moose home to process. Canada’s form of a game warden showed up, proclaimed the Powley’s had broken the law, seized their guns, and took off with the dead moose.

I looked for a court docket on these shenanigans. Fancy that…..found it.

The Court Docket:

http://www.ontariocourts.on.ca/decisions/2001/february/powley.htm

The argument:

The Powley’s shot a bull moose without a government issued licenses but contended it was their right to do so by the Constitution Act, 1982,s. 35 but were charged with hunting and possession of a moose without a license contrary to ss. 46 and 47 )1_)of the Game and Fish Act, R. S. O. 1992, c. G. 1. This was based around Metis status in the area.

The Ruling:

The Powley’s could hunt without a government issued license due to proving a genetic or identity link to Metis people and location where the moose was hunted.

The trial judge concluded that the respondents had established the necessary ingredients for an aboriginal right to hunt for food within the meaning of s. 35(1) of the Constitution Act, 1982 and that this right was infringed by sections 46 and 47(1) of the Game and Fish Act.

The Canadian Game Wardens had erroneously arrested the men and stole their moose aka harassment.

Issues that arise from the milieu:

The harassment of citizens by governmental agencies, who do not investigate but arrest then ask questions later (much to their embarrassment).

Loss of a food source that could have been used to stave off hunger or winter stock piling.

Expense of a second hunting trip to hunt another moose to replace the moose the Conservation officers took without a full investigation of the facts (much to their embarrassment).

Matter of Status Rights vs. Resource Conservation.

Harvesting a moose or wild game outside of conservation laws.

Conservation laws that conflict with current Sovereign Nations laws or rights.

More hunters than moose; given opportunity to hunt and protect the resource.

Government ignoring constitutional rights until the aboriginal party takes gov’t to court.

Consensual-based negotiations.

Regulatory regime reflecting priority of another group’s right to hunt outside of non-native peoples.

Distinction between one group or another; based on the quantum factor.

Burden of Proof; locations of previous archaic settlements of Metis people prior to European colonialism where animals are hunted.

Localized hunting rights versus national rights over provinces without prejudice.

Unlicensed and unmonitored hunters taking advantage of wild game resources without contributing to financial upkeep

Non-indigent organizations assuming unlicensed aboriginal hunters are not responsible or do not have their own distinct identity as to conservation practices within the community for continued supply and upkeep of wild game resources.

Unrestricted right to hunt and potential for overkill or population decimation without input of outside sources

Assumption by outside entities upon Aboriginal peoples that their acts are a careless assault on wild game and over indulgent to exclude non-native peoples in the taking of wild game.

Opening the floodgates to people (indigent or non-indigent) being able to hunt, trap, fish and extract resources from the land without limitation or concern for conservation.

Concern of being treated as a poacher versus a hunter and risk of legislative sanctions.

Hunters harvesting wild game on land not know for indigent occupation prior to European occupation but claiming it for the sake of getting away with unlawful hunting.

Side barreling this would be the eventuation of animal rights activists, who are opposed to killing animals as a form of murder or abuse, intruding on traditional hunting cultures of indigenous peoples.

Looming hunger, starvation, and death of people not able to feed themselves.

**Fast forward to 2014**

Then I found another dated article from Jan 23, 2014 entitled, “Alberta Metis Hunting Rights Appeal Won't Be Heard By Supreme Court” where Gary Hirsekorn was convicted in 2010 of hunting out of season after he shot a mule deer near the Cypress Hills in southeastern Alberta.

Hirsekorn’s lawyers wanted the court to expand Metis Rights on the Powley ruling benchmarking Metis rights which pinpointed Canadian landscapes where Metis settlements exist prior to European occupation. The problem with Hirsekorn’s case was the location where he hunted the mule deer. As far as history noted there was no Metis settlement there but that would mean the Powley ruling was solely based around the Powley’s hunting the moose on known Metis lands. Hirsekorn lost because his lawyers failed to prove the Metis had a historic presence in the area where Hirsekorn shot the deer.

Here is the link to the article:

http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/2014/01/23/alberta-metis-hunting-rights-appeal_n_4653764.html

After reading this there were a range of problems but I did want to clarify a thing or two so I asked my friend Judy want did it mean to be “indian” and “metis” which there seemed to be some distinction there. Metis people are of mixed ethnicity Ojibwa and French. “Indian” is everyone else and such a crude word but there it is. She did tell me that the Metis would soon be slotted in the “indian” description and receive the same benefits of being an “indian”.  I was also reading the “indian” name tag gives a hunter the right to hunt out of season.

As I was researching this it becomes very clear that the Great Spirit has two hands; his left and his right. The right hand being indigent people or aboriginal if that is what you fancy. I prefer human beings but human beings have to label everything. The left hand is people who are not indigent or non-native. I find this hard to scatter my brain on because when you look at the world in this sense its kinda stupid. People are people right down to the marrow bone.

Earth is a round rock that spins in space. Everyone on it is native to Earth. There is no person on this rock that can’t be considered a native.  If you fell out of your mother’s uterus on this planet somewhere you are native. If you were born in a petri dish in a lab you are native. If a European points at an American and say, “You are not native.”  The statement is false because after some point if you are born anywhere on the Earth you are native. It’s a ridiculous concept born out of the need to assert ownership of some small patch of land or cast the shadow of exclusion.

As an Earthling the fact that you want to fight over a piece of dirt on Pangaea after it split which truly makes continents not lost but displaced and discovered by no one because a jack ass got on a boat and sail to another shore is short of dumb-fuckery. You cannot discover something that was not lost to start with because it wasn’t in your current reality. A good example of this is the moment some government wants to lay claim to Mars or Canada declaring their right to the Artic and North Pole to drill a hole in it and make it the Bog of Eternal Oil Slicks.

When the right and the left hand do not get along, they fight. This is the current state of affairs it would seem. There are two different entities living in one place and they don’t play well together.

I then thought of the problems that arise between loss of food and food security problem from the article, “Support hunters to fight hunger in Nunavut, says report”. Indigenous hunters have the problem of a lack of a hunter in the household or not having the financial resources to hunt at all.

Here you have the Powley’s who didn’t break any laws but lost their moose food source; sniffed of deprivation to me.

Clarity is a great thing when it is applied. One main problem here was the fact that governmental policy was not streamlined in the agencies where knowledge of indigenous legal guidelines were known alongside of non-indigenous. The Canadian Conservation Agents treated it as hunters under Canadian law bypassing indigenous privilege. When the judge ruled that there was to be a vast overhaul of the system to clarify the specifics I guess Canada said “Fuck that” and decided to label them all “indians”. The fat got chop on that issue. This is a statement to the unorganized structure of Canada’s government in treatment of native issues, policies, and approach.

I then thought of the issue of Status Right versus Resource Conservation.  No matter what you still have to have common sense approaches to daily living and your resources. Just because you can do an act doesn’t mean you do it without limits but then again outside entities shouldn't assume someone is reckless as well in dealing with natural resources. There again when you have groups of hunters going out at once or over a period of time harvesting wild game without a count to what is going on there might lay a problem of overhunting by proxy of not monitoring what is available and replenishing it. Also there is the problem of financially caring for wild game and landscapes through conservation and a gross imbalance of burden on one group while the other benefits without prejudice. This could cause a lot of strife. This too creates the problem of limiting a resource to keep it viable in the present of groups of people who are not limited based on ancestral rights, traditions, and culture.

The problem here is the responsibility of maintenance and upkeep to this group or that when it’s all the peoples no matter their distinction.

Even though my friend Judy told me the Metis would soon get “indian status” I thought of the blood quantum problem. This has been an annoying long term stain on human existence. Metis were not given the same rights over hunting as “indian status” because of their heritage. Being of mixed ancestry somehow it subjugates a person to a certain amount of prejudice or exclusion. The point I am getting at is if you are born from a French mother who is considered white and an Ojibwa man the world you live in will try and dictate to you, shame you, or threaten you into denying one part of your being. You may have to cast your white French self out to be accepted in an Ojibwa world or cast your Ojibwa self out to live in a white world. Either way you will disavow your mother’s or your father’s people through denial. The same goes for mixed raced children of African and Caucasian parents. Social groups compel them to choose which group they affiliate with instead of accepting both Caucasian and African descent. Such as President Obama and his wife having Caucasian heritage but they publically affiliate with non-Caucasian groups. We live in a world of mixed heritages and ancestry yet people are compelled to choose over one side or the other just like the Super Bowl. The only thing missing is half time and tail gating.

When there is something outside of your psyche that is telling you to rendering some part of your being as a whole to fractions and repressing it away from yourself and the world to assimilate is terribly wrong. The only reason we have check boxes for ethnic groups is for statistician to do their mathematical magic for surveys, focus groups, presidential elections, monitoring trends and targeting audiences.

We as a world have not done away with the labeling of our human brethren and sisters to just one box on the application. Are you Hispanic, African, Caucasian, Native American, or Oriental? Or are you born of the interlacing of centuries of people from different ports of the world? I would tell you to look toward the Genographic Project for some answers.

On the other hand you have people that love this state of being because it fuels their need for separation and validation for excluding a group they perceive as an enemy or beneath them.

In regards to First Nations not being responsible enough to manage wild game is short of poppy cock. On the individual level there might be some question to each person’s individual attitude but overall when you have a group of people that wonder why they have to fight their government over clean water, migratory fish, natural landscape, and intrusion from third party entities to access areas for mining or not considering the pollution the company may cause to the threat of life and limb of inhabitants is like a slur to their person. This type treatment only re-enforces the idea the finger pointer is probably polluted and trying to defame the image of the activist. It’s a spectacle. There is documentation from Europeans journaling the way in which native inhabitants performed land management. Give us a break on that one, please.

I then considered the burden of proof in regards to previous archaic Metis settlements and hunting wild game solely on this outlined property without a governmentally issued license. This is complete bullshit. Before Europeans set foot here there were roads everywhere as documented by settlers in South Carolina in the 1700s.  The King’s Road was a traveled Native American road until it was renamed. Reminds me of someone tossing a body in a house foundation, backing a cement truck up and dumping cement in the hole, and covering it up. Then the owner walks all over it without a clue. This is history. In school you are taught bullet points and not details because that is where the devil lays.

On reflection when you consider all the issues that can arise from someone shooting a moose you have to step back and take a personal moment. The moment that moose dropped it began to tell us a great many disturbing things. How the problems between the Canadian government and the First Nations people that inhabit the same spaces are causing a lot of emotional, cultural, and spiritual damage in brief. Separation can be amicable or down right aggressive but somewhere in the middle of compromise and a well-structured government where all parts are in harmony through communication could bring about change that benefits both sides.

There are so many issues here to consider. It’s a lot to think about.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

 

 

 

 

The Blurry Face of Hunting

Remember this: There are now a lot of hunters roaming the countryside blurry and out of focus where before it was crystal clear.

I was doing the rounds looking for something interesting to read. I will say now that I am not anyone's social police. I just read things and write for my enjoyment. You can read or pass, rich or poor, nutty bird or sane-whatever. I can show  you some love as long as you don't overstep my boundaries. Boundaries are important. I had to get some.

I found a post on the Outdoor Life blog. Just as soon as I saw it I put my head down and shook it in consternation. It was one of those "I knew this was going to eventually happen" moments but hard headed people who think they are invincible just don't see the hatchet fall for looking at the basket. If one went back and read parts of my blog its like a prophecy almost.

Rewind to 2010. The posting of trophy animal photography was in full swing.

There were several male hunters, female hunters, and people pretending to be the opposite sex to lure people in for blackmail purposes to squash competition, be creepy, or any other unknown nefarious reason. I told these nameless people it wasn't prudent to interact with violent strangers on the internet or even suspiciouos people. Turn them into the FBI I said. I was ignored because an hour later these same individuals were seeking an aggressive audience with mutually aggressive strangers. Just watching the comments made me think, "God what a waste of energy."
I remarked it was not a good idea to leave family pictures on display publically after the hunter intentionally visited sites and antagonized anti-hunting people and vice versa. This was a mutual two way street of battling absolutely nothing tangible with no productive outcome.

I even noticed that a lot of the faceless attackers were rip offs of convict names from public law enforcement sites. How easy to make an online page of a convict then blame your shenanigans on them. Think about it. You're in jail for murder or car-jacking but Betty Sue is using your info to harass Alejandro online for posting a trophy photo. Not saying this is the case all the time but it could happen.

My second thought was if they are hunters why aren't they hunting instead of playing tag-you-are-it on social media. For me it made me not want to hunt because it disgusted me. I stopped looking at such things. My life returned to a normal happy place.

There was one site that all this negative corruption made birth on social media. I told my brother and  he was extremely irate. I eventually cut ties from that controversy because it was not worth being dragged into someone else's self created mess only to be pulled down by it. I also had a moment where as an indivdual I said, "This is not me. I am not a follower of bullshit and melodrama. I am a hunter". I sat back and watched these hunters and huntresses get sucked down into a problem they helped create. Now they are crying about it. The Blame Game phantasm begins where anti-hunting spooks haunt them but no one is really there.

At one point it really got rich.

Someone started blaming me for all their problems. I wasn't the one at the computer tapping away at the keyboard. No sir.  There is always people who do wrong then try to put the blame on another person so they don't have to face the consequences of their actions. To me this is what it looked like. The person walked into the woods, started a fight with a bear then really thought he or she would walk out without that bear ripping his or her head clean off. When they took this little trip into the mouth of Bear Hell they didn't even go prepared or even think out what would happen next; left all their hunting skills at the edge of the forest and forged ahead into the stupid bliss of controversy and murder threats.

Somewhere in me I feel somewhat sorry for these hunter people. Somewhere......

Then there were the now sensitive huntresses and hunters who saw a anti-hunter hiding in the dark shadows, under rocks, and peeping out from their keyboard.  After that came the direct attacks from hunters onto other hunters who had a differing opinion because they were now "secret anti-hunters", "tree hugger", or whatever nice label could be applied. I observed this was also a form of black balling, character attacking, low common dirty pool on the part of hunting competitiors. It always seemed to me the loser was the winner and the followers of the hunter who used character attacks was the losers. At least that hunter or huntress that stood their ground, didn't play dirty pool, and stood for something was the real deal. That's the one that can look themselves in the face in a pool of water and know who they are.

It was kind of comical because you can still see it on feeding streams. The post will go like this:

Poster points virtual finger and declares, "This looks like anti-hunting sentiment". If you say anything to the contrary the virtual finger points right back at you, "You're an anti-hunter" whether it is true or not. They tell all their friends  in private messages then you are the black sheep of the family or the hunting world. Baaa. Unfortunately no one asks you if this is true for not wanting to get pulled into the vortex of drama. Better to go with the devil you know.

I had hunters lurking around my private page, passive-aggressively posting things to engage me in battle as another hunter-huntress or pretender. At least if they can get you to argue with them its negative press but press all the same. I was scratching my head, said fuck it, I don't need this; goodbye.

One bad experience I had was friending a 'huntress' but she allowed other male hunters to attack a female hunter on her page then didn't say anything. She advertises she promotes females hunting and encourages it but allows male hunters to beat up on females as long as she's immune. This is how you question a motive by people's true behavior. Instead of breeding friendship or making a new colleague it was better to kick dirt in someone's face along with the men. Every now and again when her pages are not active she throws in the old anti-hunter ploy. Now she dreams of being the Queen of the Hunting Heap. Good luck to you; its lonely at the top because someone is always trying to push you off. As for me, I am riding the dirt roads on my white trash golf cart, carefree as a wild bandicoot.

I have also had this happen to me as well. When you have more than two men jump on one woman in one conversation that is suppose to be taking part in the same sport that female must either be a major threat or one awesome woman.

Yes these are bad experiences but when you know who you are it doesn't matter. All these bad behaviors and mistreatments are not doing anything for interpersonal relationships between hunters or huntresses. It just makes people look mean and self-centered on me, me, me; (all the way home).

I know I am not the only person this has happened to? I have spent the last four years looking for a female hunter to friend but there is none to be had.
Nowhere.......

Now going back to the previous mention of blurry faces. I looked at the image. Outdoor Life blurred out the face as requested. This being a type of defacing of the self by one's own hand no matter the reason. Self-effacing is defined as making your acts inconspicuous. A little late for that.  Now you have pressure on hunters to 'remove their face' from trophy photos. The groups against hunting now can pressure the hunters into marring their faces robbing them of media accolades over trophy photos and do it by the hunter's own hand and decision. This would be the first step in wiping it off of social media. The face today, the body, then the whole picture. Gone.

Yet there is still some things Angelia has yet to tell you............


Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

The Power of a Feather

Remember this: Some birds are for hunting and some are not. Either way the bird represents a little more than what is dead in your hand or on your plate. It gives you wisdom and nourishment. Treat it accordingly.


Feathers, in regards to structure and function, can be considered for thermal insulation, waterproofing, flight (or so gliding) and coloration but just as equally for protection and at times shelter. The last months of 2012, I was on this path to follow feathers left behind on the aptly called trail. Everywhere I went there was a feather of some kind. 

Feathers have been symbols of positive things. To know you were receiving information from a virtuous person, a wax sealed letter bearing three feathers was commissioned to the receiver. These three feathers represented charity, hope, and faith. In dreams, it could mean truth, speed, lightness, flight, ascension, enlightened message, prayer, the ethereal realm and protection. In some cultures it was a symbol representing the judgments of the soul after death.

A feather is important. A feather could be considered by realists as evolutionary growth coming out the skin of a bird. Life has meaning. If you value something for what it represents then it takes on a whole new life even when it is seemingly lifeless. The feather’s meaning is the force of positivity that is supporting it. The feather becomes a light in what seems like the dark. Along the path, it could be considered an indicator to seek spiritual wisdom or in other words come to know yourself, where you stand in the world, how you act accordingly, and the effect you have on the ecosystem of reality in daily life.

You can also get feathers by doing a brave deed which in my case there are a lot of naked birds as my wall can attest. You have to earn feathers in the right context. If you go shoot something out the sky that is cheating. Feathers can be given as a symbol between people but it’s the feathers that you randomly find that the universe lays in your path. It boosts your life and reminds you that there is a great mystery out there and you have a purpose. It’s your personal perspective and how you carry through with your ideals.

Little birds are always overlooked as messengers with important gifts. Most people just stare at them. They are hours of staring fascination. We could learn a lot from the meager little songbird. These little birds are not eagles or hawks but scratch about looking for insects or landing on a twig near your face in a curious almost accusatory fashion of "I see you there. What are you doing?" This is the understanding I get from songbirds. They leave feathers but almost always are accompanied by a song. Songbirds also tell you the importance of communication because they are talking amongst themselves all the time. Singing their little songs.

When the mother bird sits abreast her nest she fluffs her downy under feathers to plop down on her eggs she has laid. This gives the eggs warmth along with rolling them to help the not-yet formed birdie inside a chance at life. As shelter for another life this gives it value. Once the little birds are hatched again the feathers must spread out to shelter them from the rain. This gives it the meaning of protection.

Once the baby bird grows up, it has to have blind courage to leave its nest to learn to fly and become productive. That gives the feather faith. As the bird becomes adept at maneuvering life, there will be times that arise when the feathers are used to combat other creatures that would take the birds life. This is a measure of strength, protection, and a bigger than life sense (as it is a form of bluffing). Trickery can save the bird’s life if the bird knows how to stay alive and defend itself. That takes guts. This gives it valor. In the military you will hear of medals called the Wings of Valor.

There is reproduction to consider. Feathers could represent bright displays of a proper mate. There are also different shapes, colors, and sizes of feathers but usage is closely the same. This gives the feather distinction, variety, beauty, and uniqueness.

In consideration of the bird taking flight, feathers are made to raise the bird up to varying heights and give them the ability to coast in order to move from place to place and find food. The feather is hollow, but each small strand that is stuck together and performs as a whole, can lift a bird up on an air current to a height that benefits the bird, if she is willing to just let go and have the wind carry her. Once she is there, all things can be seen. This gives the feather fearlessness, humbleness, and the ability to just be the feather doing its work. With this action there can be no thought of flight, only the moving forward as one would dive into rivers of water that is air and become one with the motion of an unseen force that moves all things. This gives the feather fluidity like water (for water can cut through the mountain), flotation (to rise above all things heavy), letting go to relax into the natural unrestricted world, and seeming defy gravity and the known way of the world in which heaviness/restrictions are defined. Feathers define transcendence from one spiritual place to another and travel in different realms.

I recently was doing some reading on this place out in Texas. In one of the drawings on the cave wall, there was an image of what looked to be a person accompanied by a spirit and laid across the form was what looked to be a feather. Feathers can also in some cultures mean moving in and out what is called the spirit world be it a very dangerous thing to do. That was during the time of archaic man. Even then archaic man understood the representation of what a feather could hold. Feathers hold unseen power and it is up to the receiver to discover what that power is. This power might be subtle or boisterous.

Either way, the weight of a feather in your hand as you hold it up will signify that you are on the path or the journey to somewhere, or someone important. Stay on the path, you will not be lead astray. Shelter yourself and others as the mother bird. Know when to spread your wings in defense. Take the leap of faith to dip forward as you take to flight. Rise up and feel the greatness around you and all you survey below. Be the unique individual that your outer feathers exhibit as you dance around with colors flashing. Be proud, but humble. Be the virtuous person that people will receive and let people know that you are brave. Pass your feathers on as they fall out and replace themselves to encourage others that they are chosen for a path as well, even if it is undefined or hidden from them until the right moment. When you see a feather found, think of the message you are to receive and pass on. Overall, a feather is a message of survival with the struggle of birth, life, and to death. 

Don't make life meaningless.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~