Town Hall: The Sky is Falling

Image by Adam Zubek-Nizol

Remember this: Things have a way of coming back to haunt you. 

Where is the knee jerk reaction that dog hunting in South Carolina is under attack coming from? Is it fear of law enforcement?

I am in your comment section looking for clues. My best sniffer states that supposedly there is no pending legislation and they are just gathering feedback. There is no proposal. Changes to the states hunting laws must be made by the South Carolina General Assembly. So the recipe is: 

Public Input + Point of Conflicts = Potential Solutions

Are these hunters dramatic? Why are you scared? Knees are jerking everywhere.

I am looking at the town hall videos and sipping my Replenish Zero thinking, WTF?

I see this one post where someone named Greenswamp is telling another person he is in NC and "they not finna stop us we goin dump them damn dogs anywhere anytime they not taking my shit away."  

Just in one statement you can see the reason why. I was watching one well-meaning man pleading for them not to take it away from the kids. No one said they were. The SCDNR has plenty of programs for teens and kids.

If anything is threatening the future of dog hunting it is the steady spread of infrastructure, housing, and businesses. It eats away at the forest and runs the creatures further and further away from their breeding grounds. Myrtle Beach is gone in the way of hunting. You have to go on the outskirts of town and that is landlock.

Lets hits some points on the function of the South Carolina Department of Natural Resource in these shenanigans. 

They are not your surrogate mother or father. It is a Law Enforcement Agency that enforces hunting, fishing, and boating laws, taxes and registration. They enforce laws over wildlife such as alligators, bears, manatees, and sea turtles. Did I mention crime? They help other agencies with missing persons, drown victims or body recovery.

Anyone not securing a privilege and abiding within those laws and regulations will be cited per offense and go before a judge for a verdict and pay a fine. Each generation of the public is a target recruitment to funnel financing back into the Agency as either a law-abiding citizen or a criminal of sorts based on what services you get rendered.

The SCDNR is asking for input to help make an informed decision that will be advised to the legislatures so they can amended existing regulations, add or delete. 

The South Carolina General Assembly is the department that handles the actual law-making the SCDNR executes. You need to speak to your legislator and directly ask them what is being built as regulations and put before the Assembly to be transitioned over into a law or regulation. 

You can travel here: 

To look up legislation  https://www.scstatehouse.gov/

To look up your legislator:  https://www.scstatehouse.gov/legislatorssearch.php

It follows this:

1. State Legislature: The South Carolina General Assembly, which consists of the House of Representatives and the Senate, is responsible for enacting laws that govern natural resources and environmental regulations. 
2. Committees: Specific committees within the legislature, such as the Agriculture, Natural Resources and Environmental Affairs Committee, focus on issues related to natural resources and can influence legislation affecting the SCDNR.
3. Regulatory Authority: The SCDNR itself has the authority to propose regulations based on laws passed by the legislature, which are then subject to public comment and legislative approval before becoming effective.

With all this being said, I think the South Carolina dog hunting knows that given the growth of human habitation and the dwindling landscape that shrinks smaller and smaller every year.

If you cannot get satisfaction from the SCDNR or your legislature, then maybe the dog hunters can form a coalition that will buy land and turn it into a hunting property that is shared by members and put in Trust or something like a trust to manage the upkeep and continual use of its members and their heirs. Talk to a lawyer about the particulars. 

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

The Pond is Dry and other Conundrums

                                                      Photography by Yulia Gapeenko

 

Remember this: Migratory birds fly for miles. They remember and learn what to avoid. So do I.

Lately, life has been a distraction from my conservation efforts due to other people's health conditions. Today, I sat down and tried to review what the mind should be preoccupied with. 

Basically for me, being nosy and writing.

A duck hunter who previously rented land to peruse stopped me in the local store and informed me that he rented but didn't go on the property because the pond was dry. Its not even migratory fowl season and people are looking for perfection. I thought about this. How would he know if he didn't go on the property? I went on the property and took photos months ago. During the one day snow storm, I trucked back into the woods and took photos of the frozen pond and the water in the duck pond that was frozen as well. The reason for this is to make sure there was a hole in the ice on the sump pond so the gases would not build up in the water and form dire consequences. The ice thawed out in that week so it wasn't a long freeze. 

The concept for most endeavors that I do when it comes to habitat construction and maintenance is to let it take its natural course. I guess people expect me to fill nature's duck bathtub up for them? 

Maybe I should toss in some decoys?

I began to have thoughts on water economy and scarcity. It has been on my mind since I heard about the projected AI data center in my county reported by local news. Ergo, its shroud in secrecy so I expect there to be something else going on in those six buildings. 

Now I got a disillusioned duck hunter, a dry pond, a drought of some sorts, and a data center looming in the distant future. 

Here I was thinking of buying some duck eggs and hatching them. Let no good intention go to pot. 

Its not bad enough I have to see the influx of deer into my county because the county over is so overrun with humans, buildings and their activities that the deer are now trying to hide across county lines. It looks like an alien invasion at night. I feel sorry for the deer because all the hunters do is drive around day and night trying to figure out how they can capitalize on watching a herd of ruminants get jammed up in a small area of farm and woodland. The pressure on them is incredible. Yet on rolls the wheels of progress, right over us all. 

Its a struggle. I am waiting on people to complain we need a killing because the deer are pooping in their yard. I have actually heard this non-sense from a person that was trying to request a permit to snipe them off her property. Wasted meat, what a shame.

Those deer's only crime was existence and having to have a bowel movement. Can you imagine what her thoughts were on human beings. 

It is more of a pain in the posterior when you are trying to manage a location that is a breeding ground for those little 20 lb sukies the hunters with their kids indiscriminating go out an shoot because everyone needs to have an experience. They won't even allow them to have a moments piece with their progeny. Its like the feeling people must have had back in the day when they were smoking bison and stacking them high. I sound so bitter. Guess I am?

                                                 Photography by Hamim Fadillah

I am not even gonna get into the other raging disappoint in my life when it comes to agencies that fall short of grace, character, and valor to be a bunch of punk barney's running around in the woods. All they are about is the bottom line.  

The plan is to go assess the situation and figure out if I can improve it but unless the tears of God fall from the sky, I don't expect a surplus of water to fill a hole in the ground to fulfill another person's expectations.

Southern Gothic Festival 2025

 

Remember this: "Terror made me cruel." ~Emily Bronte~

I went to the local Southern Gothic Festival in Camden, South Carolina over the weekend.  I am side questing. The weather was showing out with its dismal dreary rain that overcast the Historic Camden Revolutionary War Park. I am out looking for scary moments and ghosts in old wartime haunts. This is a free literature festival with several names so next year pen it down and come out. 

I met Kassidy Plyler of the Catawba Cultural Center. Her talk, Catawba Stories & The Trickster Spirit-History, Folklore, and the Unseen, is an overview of Catawban folklore and storytelling traditions centered around the trickster. Miss Plyler reflected on oral histories, mythologies and cultural resilience and how it shapes indigenous identity. She is an absolutely wonderful person to talk to. 

I tried to use my time wisely due to the overlap in different speakers giving their talks in different buildings on the campus.  

The next panel I sat down for is Folklore, Fear and the Family, Crafting the Modern Southern Gothic. The authors speaking are Allison Gunn and Emily Carpenter. Their talk is centered around how inherited myths, haunted landscapes, and family legacies continue to shape Southern Gothic.  Allison Gunn drew from Appalachian and Deep South folklore. Both authors were referencing generational and regional storytelling through the lens of trauma and how it creates a framework for writing on the line between fear and inheritance and how it is evolving with each new generation of Southern Gothic writer. 

Allison Gunn is debuting her novel, Nowhere. Emily Carpenter has been tapped to have her novel, Gothictown, turned into an AMC television show, so that is in the works. Their panel talk is very informative and encouraging to the new writer to Southern Gothic. Great questions were asked in reference to how each went about their process for developing the driver of the stories. 

I did sit in for the panel, Spirits of the South-Religion, Ritual, and the Southern Gothic Imagination. Dr. Jeffrey E. Anderson, Professor of History at University of Louisiana-Monroe, did bring a lot of clarification to the different questions that were asked. His book, Hoodoo, Voodoo, and Conjure: A Handbook, focuses on black southern communities, resistance traditions and African American spiritual practices. 

The practitioner, Tayannah Lee McQuillar, on the panel wasn't helpful due to lack of verbal content. Her input would have been better if she would have separated her sacred practice and spoke more on the use of impostor Hoodoo and other cultural practices to develop story and ambiance without sacrificing personal practices. If she would have spoken from that perspective she would have been more engaging for the audience. Her tarot card deck is, The Hoodoo Tarot and The Sibyls Oraculum. Her stance as I was hearing her talk in short sentences is one of a person that believes different races have a separate supernatural world and we are all divided up based on race when we die but then maybe not but that is how it came across. I don't subscribe to that train of thought. I respect her point of view as it pertains to her. 

There was a third speaker on this panel, Dr. Heather Freeman, who is a Professor of Communications and Media Studies and creator of the podcast, Magic in the United States. She explores esoteric and spiritual  traditions across American history through media, storytelling, and scholarship. She didn't speak much either but some of the questions were not address to her. I guess everyone is into Voodoo? 

Image by Yulia Gapeenko

The best of all the speakers was Dr. Abigail Lundelius Smith. She current serves as instructor of Rhetoric and Literature at New Aberdeen College in Charlotte. Dr. Lundelius's talk is Flannery O' Connor-See the Sacred In the Grotesque. Flannery O'Connor used the grotesque to uncover that point between the sacred and the profane where redemption is hiding around every page, or corner. 

She talks about O'Connor picking up the baton of gothic horror by Edgar Allen Poe, who was a walking embellishment of all things descriptive that could happen to a character in the gothic genre.

Even though Flannery O'Connor had lupus she went on to live to 39 before she exited the world. One of her best quotes is, "The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it." She has several works to read from such as, "The Complete Stories" and "The Habit of Being."

The final speaker of the day is Dick Harpootlian, the prosecutor of Pee Wee Gaskins. Harpootlian's talk is on his release of his book "Dig Me A Grave." Pee Wee Gaskins was a notorious serial killer from South Carolina. I remember he once pulled up to the gas pump at my grandfather's store and he was driving his hearse. People would always ask him what was in the coffin in the back. Terribly enough, it was probably a victim of his. Harpootlian spoke of how charismatic Pee Wee was and how he somehow could talk people into doing things for him such as blowing up a law office with C4, and reaching out to Harpootlian himself to speak to him and subsequently try and plan the kidnap, ransom, and murder of his daughter by having his son do the reaching from jail for Pee Wee. Pee Wee was a hot mess. He would burn down his father's tobacco barns and lurk around hunting victims. There was one moment where Harpootlian stated that Pee Wee Gaskins had took the officers out to a location to lead them to the body. When they got there, the officers found a group of men waiting. They felt like somehow Pee Wee had communicated to the outside and those men were there to help him escape. This made me ponder, if those men were willing to help him escape, then it wouldn't be to far of a jump that those same men, who were privy of his killings, were probably in on it with him, or at least were complicent in his dastardly deeds.

If you would like to ready more about this case try Harpootlian's book. There are other books you can reference for this period in South Carolina history.

Overall, it was a great time. I ended it with a seafood boil and hit the road back home. 

Wonder what else I can get into?  

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Copyright © 2012 All Rights Reserved.

2024 Duck Stamp Contest

Remember this: Talent can win more than once. Reading the directions are important.

Every year I follow the United States Fish and Wildlife Duck Stamp Competition. I usually follow Kira Sabin and her process as she selects the duck of choice to paint and her wins and struggles for getting to final shippable submission. She has sat as a judge for the juvenile duck stamp competition and provides excellent input. 

At first glance, you understand this is a lump of 300 or so entries that are of different levels of artistic ability and growth. In good purpose, giving someone the opportunity to attempt, and try again another day, is a learning curve of how not to give up but to come back to the drawing board and try again after improving one's skills as an artist, more so a wildlife artist.

Time and practice can cure a lot of problems. 

With that being said, a lot of the submissions were probably cut due to not reading the requirements. 

In the instructions, it stated something to the effect that you could choose from the migratory fowl, but you had to put in the conservation aspect and the habitat. Alot of these are migratory fowl swimming or suspended on water with some sprigs of grass. Its starts looking like a Sears portrait studio photo shoot. 

It views, "I am a beautiful duck, watch me swim."

2025 Winner by James Hautman 

Three Buffleheads

Here are some entries I wanted to review:

(Click on images to enlarge)

This image provided light and color and action with the above-below water line visuals. There is a hint of the cattails in the background. 

Several of these were hyper-realistic but lacked the conservation and habitat or action.

This image was camera worthy for realism but was portraiture with no story behind it.

This was a nice little photo with the underwater foot and bubble with the ripple of the reflection.

These two entries were cool neutral but still lacked conservation and habitat.

I thought this entry dabbled in the folklore and stop action imagery but had a suggested story, migratory fowl on the borderline of human habitation and industry. It looked intentionally different visually.

This entry was a great action shot with complimentary background.

These two entries I adored for the attention to detail and how much work it must have took.

This little entry right here was different. It is different to me because here you have the known and unknown where Conservation isn't always right there in your face. 

The questions to ask are:

Why is there a decoy present?

Is the decoy implemented for wildlife conservation science or active hunting?

What happens if the little fowl disappears forever from the landscape due to over hunting, disease, or limiting factors that will cause there to only be the remnants of floating fowl decoys that will drift till they get caught up in the mud, moor themselves in the grasses, or sink to the depths?

Will there be another image like this for the future or will this be a reminder reaching out from the past that illustrates the loss we will have as a country when a political pen swipes a paper and slowly but surely rubs it out like No 2 lead on paper? Because of revenge? Retribution? Religious fanaticism?

It is quite an image to ponder on. You travel from pristine, beautiful healthy fowl to what if it were to all end tomorrow?

These online events and competitions can bring people to love it and study on the greater ethos of Conservation and those creatures and landscapes within it and to those people that wake up and go to sleep every night with its past, present, and future always on their minds.

Go ahead and put it on your calendar for next year, practice and save up that entry fee. You will not regret it!

If you would like to view images click the link: 

2025 Federal Duck Stamp Contest Entries | Flickr

Federal Duck Stamp Contest & Event Information | U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service

Adieu!

Footnote: All images are subject to the United States Fish and Wildlife Service copyright. Images used solely to support contest and spread awareness of wildlife conservation, conservation law, and public service awareness through education and learning.

Role Model: Female Huntress

Remember this: You want bees-use honey. You want blowflies-use dead wild game carcass.

I told myself I would never do this again. I have been reading the Miley Cyrus rants and reviewing the current and on-going female representation in hunting via social media’s ether, by labeling certain females as role models of hunting.

I was disappointed. Was there a light somewhere in the smog of hunting that shows one female had finally diverted from the it’s all about me, hate the anti’s, and how dare you fellow hunter question me and my antics?

I removed my glasses and massaged my temples before humorously setting about finding this person. I was a little astounded by what I found-because of the one.

My thinking was: if I peruse the role model females’ pages in the mildest sense of research-there should not be a problem. That is what a role model is for-a template for someone not accustomed to what something should be to help them mimic it.

I saw the insulting quote post about looking at a page one too many times. If you wanted celebrity, then you shouldn’t have a problem having people look at it 100 times. What is up with the baiting posts?

Is that not what you wanted? Is it to the point, the page holder feels confident in mistreating anyone cruising through because the page itself represents a target for some? The page has a bait post to drag someone in for confrontation-so it is set up to catch sensitive types that have to post with knee jerk reactions.

I think of addiction-the addict gets use to a certain drug or liquor, and hits the poison of choice everyday not realizing the damage it is doing to their brain, body, and soul. Everyone around this poor soul is saying to them, this is detrimental to you-why don’t you stop? You watch them tip the bottle back, or crack open their chemistry set of narcotics to issue a dose-then off to lala-land they go; dead to the world and your warnings.

Right now, there are certain female hunting role models that do not realize the damage they are doing to themselves and anyone looking up to them. They rebuke intelligent recourse, and some of those interactions are probably negative which makes them ear-blind.

They are in a blind but they’re blind.

This is not about how the female hunting role model goes out and does her physical hunting, or her mentality when participating. It is about the behavior of a human being that disregards fellow hunters’ observations on their behavior and how it is detrimental to what they are trying to achieve. The garbled message people are comprehending and following in behind is lost to the four winds.

I had to stop looking at all this hunting squalor because it makes me feel like I am watching bad chintz wallpaper peel. It is boring too, because the articles are all the same.

If I want reality, I’ll mosey on over to Meateater. I can live with Steve and his wormy attitude.

I looked up four female hunters that are considered to some extent female role models. I went by their Facebook pages, ergo some of them had twitter accounts with the same information but varying followers.

Huntress No. 1

% Self-promotion

% Out-sourced advertising

% Politics and Political Views

% Inflammatory-Insulting posts geared toward groups not supportive     of hunting

% arguments with fellow hunters

Huntress No. 2

% Animal Rights Activist-Hunter Shenanigans

% Epic, My Life is so much more epic than yours posts

% Out-sourced posts from random pages not self-generated

% Nothing about the actual person except photos

% Inflammatory-insulting posts geared toward groups not supportive     of hunting

Huntress No. 3 (she’s been trying to get famous since she had her                   moles removed off her face)

% Self-promotion

% Inflammatory-insulting posts geared toward groups not supportive     of hunting

% allows multiple attacks on fellow hunters if they are foreign       female hunters

Huntress No. 4

% Self-promotion

% inflammatory-insulting posts geared toward groups not supportive     of hunting

% Promoting hunting for women, children, and education

*Finally learned the power of good Public Relations and filtering the crap from the cream. Guess who this No. 4 is?

I wonder. Why it is important to entertain a conversation when it is based around negative rhetoric?

I won’t lie. Some of these women make me want to gag-gagging the rainbow.

I see posts saying, “Do your research, learn about wildlife conservation…”, but you do not see the research being displayed on these women’s pages.

You want that information; you have to read Ecology, National Wildlife, Wildlife Conservation Magazine, State wildlife Magazines, or Ranger Rick.

I digress; I don’t have to bash any of these females. That door was opened by them the moment they took to social media, and the world started throwing punches and shooting fire arrows at them.

No. 4 was Melissa Bachman. I perused her Facebook page and actually like it, when before I didn’t. It is more professional and the negativity has been drained from it. It was good to see at least one problemed female taking her public relations and image seriously, while putting the focal point on her abilities, performance and outreach instead of being the visual victim of attacks with pomp and circumstance through self-generated altercations.

Some hunters want to articulate to these top-notch celebrity figures that the behavior and the actions are causing the problem-but fear being excluded and branded a hunting heretic.

Does anyone remember the election? I didn't get the memo to vote, did you?

I would not have voted any of these people as role models, celebrities, or even representatives of the Hunting sport. It is shameful to say the least, and that is the women-some of the men are just as bad.

If you want to do Hunting a favor, hunters need to stand up to this kind of behavior. Hunters need to let these hunters,voted by unknown sources as the representation of the hunting sport, be informed by the masses that what is being publicly advertised and displayed as examples of hunting participants is not consistently true of the vast number of diverse hunters. It is direly erroneous.  

It is a misrepresentation of the diversity and quality of hunters everywhere.

I want to know when this crap is going to stop being a thing.

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

Copyright © 2026 All Rights Reserved.

A Very Curious Fawn.

Remember this: You never know what you'll see. Get outside.


It was extremely hot this afternoon. I wanted to take my father's dog for her evening  ride out to the watermelon patch. We sit out in the middle of a horse pasture eating watermelon. The watermelon row is short but the drought, then flood of water, has cause the melons to stunt. Some rot in the field before they even turn ripe inside. It's a hazard, along with the out-of-control grass. I am just glad I have snake boots. I decided to see what the state of affairs were in regards to flooded areas that needed to be bushhogged. Everything is a hot mess. High grass is everywhere. I shook my head. My son would have to wait to cut the grass.

While out riding around, I came across this pair of fawns standing in the soybean field. This little fellow posed up a storm instead of running off in the treeline. First it stared, then whipped its tongue out several times tasting the air. The fawn started to come over to me, but I didn't want it to. The fawn decided it would be best to walk off into the bushes. I was glad. These were well fed fawns as you can see. Usually, when I am messing about in the woods with my plants, little deer will become curious and come just close enough to you. I take a look then ignore them. If you act like you don't see them, the less scared they are. By the time hunting season comes, shooting puts the fear of God in them fast enough; sadly to say. The only thing trying my patience is the fact my camera is malfunctioning. On the distance setting, the image doesn't stablize and looks somewhat blurry. It also jumps back and forth between options on the option button; drives me batty. If it breaks, I will not be able to get a better one. It has been a good camera.

One other time, I became ecstatic seeing a huge turkey poult.  I got a photo of one of the little turkey birds. I warned the neighbors to watch their dogs, become one of them has a mean little dachsund and a red nose pit with no training whatsoever. Domestic pets menace them just as much as wild animals.

When I see these little babies I am so happy. They give you hours of fun when you watch them because they play alot. Even though they are eating machines, I still like them.

A week ago, a white plane was pretending to be the Red Baron over the woods behind the house, which annoyed me. The pilot seemed to be running the deer. Whether this was on purpose is unknown to me. I didn't know who it was, but the plane spooked the deer so badly they would not come out the woods for a week. I almost thought the plane was going to crash in the duck pond. You just never know with people anymore. Maybe they were looking for hidden marijuana fields. I am sorry to report  I have none, unless you want some oleanders bushes.

I did want to share this picture because it is just darling.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

The Water is Rising

Click on images to Enlarge.

 

 

 

Remember this: The water is rising. When a woman says, “Don’t go in there.” Don’t go in there.

 

I decided yesterday that I was going to go turkey hunting in the WMA on Friday. I scouted the area for the water table. The water was rising and spreading. I blamed this situation on the fact the moon is going into its dark nighs then growing. The moon doesn't change shape but affects the water table and tides. Just through the woods to the river you can see the salt water and the fresh water meeting. I knew the Gobbler King told me to call him on Sunday but that would give me three days left to turkey season. Rain killed the first part of the month for me. I didn’t want to count on him because I figured he was going to back out of this anyway then where would I be; empty-handed and not even trying.

The day before I drove the golf cart around for about an hour and a half at a different place; calling for anything. I got no response. That is when I schemed my plan with the help of Nena-Two-Feathers. I decided I would get my mountain bike, assorted hunting necessities and beat back the rising tide of river water. Mountain bike with a metal basket; extreme and hardcore, I know. Wait til you see pictures of me looking like a bag lady pushing a shopping cart in the woods with a buck in it when I am fifty years old. By then I will be a nutter and it won't matter what the game warden is telling me because I will be tone deaf.

I checked my bike for flat tires and loaded her up into the truck. I got all the stuff I needed and drove down to the WMA. I looked down the road and the water had now pooled well onto the road in front of the sign-in box. I pulled in onto the gravel park, got out, walked over and signed the notebook inside. A truck drove up with a Mr. Wilder from Tabor City, NC. He was driving a Z71 but his four-wheel drive was compromised. He asked me did I think he could get in. I told him no. I did ask him did he want to walk  with me up the road but he seemed disgusted at the idea of getting wet.  I offered. He had never been in the area and did not know it. I explained the terrain to him. He relayed stories of other hunters submerging vehicles in the next county near Punch Bowl because they couldn’t see what was before them. Mr. Wilder decided to turn -tail and go back home.

I had sat at the sign-in box the day before talking to the propane driver from the next county. He didn’t think he would be able to go down the road either. He said he stopped going hunting when he got married, took up horses, got divorced, then stopped with the horses. I guess marriage and divorce is a buzz-kill.  

I waved good-bye to him then walked up the middle of the road in my snake boots watching the turtles drift by. I finally got to the second parking area and walked up on a turkey that flew into the woods over the briar bushes. I meandered through the thicket, after hiding my bike in the briars, to see if the water was there too. It was. I passed on this area.  I pushed on through the earthy tea of the swamp.

 

 

 

 

I heard a vehicle coming up behind me as it broke the water. These two men pulled up.  The driver had never been there before. He asked me if I thought he could make it. I told him no but he could make his friend get out with a stick to dip test areas for depth of hole; made sense to me. Once again, Sacajawea was telling Lewis and Clark not to go there but they did.

 I was now the unofficial swamp troll telling hunters if they could pass or not. Somehow, I thought I needed a staff like Gandalf, while proclaiming, “You shall not pass!” The problem with these two guys was the truck. It was one of those low riding Nissan deals. I could see it sinking into the mire while water flooded it.

We talked about turkey because they were there to hunt like me. It was about 10:30 am and the two hunters were trying to find a gobbler after the hens left for nesting.  We discussed the surveys the DNR sends out and how I got one that was a psychological questionnaire. I told the guy, “I am now starting to question my mental status because I am here, knee deep and up to my eyeballs, pushing a mountain bike with a shotgun strapped to the handle bars.” We laughed.

The driver also told me he thought some of the younger men shoot the turkey and drive right out of the WMA without saying a thing so they can reserve their tags for other days. I think this was probably his opinion but I don’t know what people do and don’t do in the WMA once they get dead birds to their truck. I kept in mind he said he had never been to this WMA so I am wondering if he didn’t mean some other where he had seen it. I am not the game warden but people sure do tell me a lot of stuff.  After shooting the breeze a little more these two intrepid souls decided to chance the water and mystery holes on the road horizon while pushing forward to their dreams.

I wondered up the road and came to a small clearing that lead to a grown up road with a gate in disrepair. I thought about going down it because something had stomped down a path. I looked down in the ditch to find an assortment of red shotgun shells floating there. I piddle for a while then realized it was to overgrown. I went across the road and down in the water-filled ditch. I was unceremoniously up to my waist in water but made it across to the dryer part and mounds of dirt. I messed around in that area but it was one of those spots that one step and you are down in it with your head sticking out. I passed on this but while standing on the hill heard a motor coming. A red jeep wrangler appeared pulling the little green Nissan in tow with the driver laughing like Santa Claus and his co-conspirator, riding in the truck bed, laughing it up at me while I cried, “I tooooldddd yoooouuu soooo.” The swamp troll was vindicated. Those two guys looked like they were in their forties but the look on their faces reminded me of two sixteen-year-olds out with new drivers licenses and getting in trouble.  I thought it was hilarious and so did the jeep driver. They were just waving and laughing.

I then went to the trouble of getting me a witch cane and measuring a section of ditch to cross that wasn’t so deep. I barely made it across but I didn’t get my backpack or gun wet. I walked back up the road to get my bike. I then thought this wasn’t going to get better but I remembered back at the sign-in box there was a gate and I saw a turkey. I walked back. At the second park, two men stopped me to tell me that I didn’t have to wear safety orange because someone would shoot me and the game warden couldn’t write me a ticket because it was turkey season. I told him people worried me enough with their drinking and hunting. The one old dodger had a cannula in his nose where he was getting oxygen. I thought he must be a boss because even sickness wasn’t going to hem him down. He was giving my shotgun googley eyes and said, “That is an 870. Best gun ever made for turkey shooting.” I said, “Yes sir.” He looks at me and says, “Go in there girl and get that turkey.” He excused himself and rode away with his friend. He didn’t want to go down the road either and he had a new Jeep Liberty. I wished at that point I had a Jeep Wrangler but all I had was a mountain bike. Yep, good old mountain bike.



 

 

 

 

I watched them go and strolled through the waters. Finally I got to the gate and steered around the post to go inside. Dart frogs were shooting in every direction. This road was previously bush-hogged and I could walk it no problem. I wanted to be far off the road because of the no shooting zone. I came to a bend and went right where I eventually found a little cul-de-sac and nestled in. The only water I had to cross was a small low place with running water. It was dry as a bone and you couldn’t tell from where I was, that not too far in the other direction, it was flooded. I sat giving my calls and listened. I heard purrs and some yelps. I then concluded that I was on the dry spot with the hens, which were nesting because by this time it was mid-day. Every so often I would do some calls. I was so engrossed at one point with practicing my purr-cluck, I didn’t notice the fast moving black racer that came up to three inches of my snake boot to stare at me. It looked to be over six feet long. It scared the bee-jesus out of me to start with because it snuck up on me and I tossed my flex-tone wooden piece to my slate somewhere in the beige straw grass. I yelled and it shot over to do a semi-circle around me. My inner voice said,  “Snake I am not a hen laying an egg. Go away.” I thought about how this was probably adding to my white hairs that I have had since I was twenty.

 

Of course there is the old superstitution that if a black snake crosses your path, someone is trying to do you harm. I don't think so because this snake was just after something to gulp down.

It’s funny how even snakes can hunt eggs and hear or feel a sound that signals a hen is laying and came calling. I decided after sitting for about two hours that I would call it an empty-handed success. I then saw baby ticks on my gun. It wouldn’t be hunting unless the ticks were invited unannounced to the party.

I did want to see where the road leads but half way up it was muddy like a hog parlor. I relented, jumped on my bike and peddled away. I was doing well until I hit the water hole at less than top speed but didn’t sink the boat. I was exhausted but fairly accomplished.

I then snickered that I had found the hens and walked up on a turkey. I was still in the woods making calls when everyone else was giving up over water and not looking for options. I didn’t wait on someone else but went to do my business, whether I failed or succeeded. I laughed at intrepid souls who laughed at themselves and met people, all men who have been hunting longer than I have. I transversed a ditch to get to the other side then went back into that same ditch to come out. I questioned my mental status while knowing I was not insane. I stood on a hill and laughed at people's shenanigans. There were hunters knew to the WMA that didn’t have a clue and I was educating them and giving them advice. I was encouraged by a man that looked like he was two steps from a nursing home bed.

With hunting, it’s as much what you observe people doing and how they deal with situations that arise. It is not just actually scoring a turkey for you. People are amazing, funny, and informative when you get off your computer, out your house, and strike out down a path to a spot in the brambles. I do have new found respect for ancestors that ran with the Swamp Fox through those same swamps. I signed out after four hours while watching people come then giving up. I thought and laughed a lot going home.

After all, I did it on a mountain bike.

 

 

 

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth

 

~Courtesy of the AOFH~

 

 

 

A Better Informed Female Hunter

Remember this: Everyone has to start somewhere; encouraged or not.

Recently I have been scheming to hunt outside of my state. Hunting within your state is where you cut your teeth. From there you have to branch out.

Of course the reality of this would be casting myself out into the world alone, which is a scary thing to do. Eventually this gypsy-like quality strikes all people for them to migrate and see new places for the excitment, awe, and alas vacationer fatigue (when you go, then come back more tired than what you were when you left).

While entertaining this idea of out-of-state hunting I was plotting to hunt turkey nearby on this tract of land that belonged to the DNR, but being familiar with the property over time, had some questions before I set out to beat the bush. I referred to the rules and regulations book; no answer. This tract of land was fifty miles off the coast in a swampy area.

My questions were on unmarked lanes with gates that were at times locked. Seemed simple enough to answer.

Called up the game warden. Not a nice chap; didn't answer my question. He admitted to me lack of knowledge on his part about the area. Belligerently referring to the rules and regulations book, which did not cover this particular question. Sadly I had to raise my voice which I don't like to do. He made me feel like I was not welcome to go to that place or I was pestering him when he had more important things to do. The most useful thing I got out of him was the problem of bogging down so some of the lanes with locked gates could only be walked down. It would seem previous hunters or woodsy people just tore up the roads. It was the Blood Moon. Maybe he was on his manstruation? (Love you guy!)  I wondered why he didn't take my name and get back to me. Moving on.

What does one do when the game warden is of no help and the possiblity that you could run amuck of the law exist? I stewed then got an idea. I considered people that were new to the sport without a clue. One must get a clue after all.

When a person starts out hunting, fishing, camping, or even hiking there are rules and regulations that you must abide by while utilizing property. If you do not understand or know these regulations and rules could mean a ticket, fine, or jail time. God forbide losing your hunting license for the rest of your life.

If I were to go to this area, get myself in trouble, the game warden is not going to care, then will most likely antagonize me for whatever crime I commited by making me feel stupid; giving me a ticket anyway. I refer back to my conversation with the game warden when saying, "I don't want to go to this area then commit a crime by happenstance and have the game warden say to me, "Ignorance is no excuse" when I am calling you with questions. Made sense to me. I will tell you I love the SCDNR but sometimes it is the individual attitudes within this department that make life problematic.

Sometimes you can't let off-putting people stop you. I can admit there have been up to three different people excluding the game warden that I have asked to clarify or go down to this tract with me so I won't get in trouble. All they do is walk away or ignore you.

Here is what I did. I knew of a retired game warden that lived close by and called him. I explained to him what I was attempting to do. He took 45 minutes of his personal time out to explain to me about the tract of land. After this conversation I felt more empowered to go by myself and sit under a tree to do my business.

I had paid for my license last year for this particular tract that didn't need tagging or special permits. Always thinking of safety, if I were to go inside this place by myself then someone would have to know. I went over to the local DNR office to pick up maps for each game zone. I looked them over. Unfortunately there were no detailed maps of the specific area. What was a girl to do?

I googled Earth. For every one of those little lanes or entry ways, I followed the white line to see exactly where it ended. Most of them looped back to the main road so I was comfortable with the fact I could get back out. I did note the swampy areas where it would not be easily accessed. I then thought I would go down and make my own map with numbers and where it ended so when I went back I could mark the places where I hunted, water holes, game that appeared, general direction of tracks and time of day among other things. As we know some animals do not go back to the same place twice or travel the same path. Overall this endeavor was to pinpoint my location to family members if I were not to come back so it would be easier to find the body. There is the old saying, "Gone and let the hogs eat you". Gone being the southern sounding word in exasperation for "Go on". I could be eaten by wild hogs; it happens.

This is why sometimes you have to consider the way people get into hunting or fishing. Someone else takes them and minus the license probably do not feel responsible for the knowledge because they are temporarily there for the pleasure of the activity.

If you go by yourself it is rather different. As a hunter you have to put some semblance of thought and planning into your trip or else come up empty handed or worse yet in disaster. Your success depends on your knowledge and not someone elses unless you are gathering it from the source that dictates the legal parameters of whatever it is you are doing. I negate guided hunts in this piece because you are still relying on another person for your success.

I know there is a lot of online chatter about how close people are that hunt but when  you are considered the outsider in circles or just starting out while not knowing anyone it can be hard. To some extend it is who you know. You don't know anyone; it gets harder. You might approach people that turn their nose up at you, do not want you to know their hunting spot, or consider you a joke because they don't think you have "the look" or "attitude". Unfortunately for me I don't have "the look" but my attitude I wonder at sometimes. I don't wear camo all the time, sleep in it, cover my truck in it, or whatever else people do with camo. I don't look the part which confuses people. Usually I wear a red plaid shirt, blue jeans and snake boots. Half of the time there are memes that have make-no-sense messages that drive me crazy. Hence, keeping my inflammatory writings relegated to my blogosphere.

When you are a female hunter starting out, as magazines and other people that hunt are tooting their horns while neglecting to educate these women on the details of what life is going to be like, may find moments where things are just unclear or you are going it alone.  A lot of this information you can get from online or at the local Department of Natural Resources. It is always a good idea to check with these departments because when land tracts are exchanged they could have changing legislation, logging companies could be on or off the properties, there might be existing private property within the tract, and  the reality of changing conditions. Moreso what you can, can not do and telling someone when and where you are going, then coming back at what time. You have to consider cell phone reception in case you break a leg, bog down, shoot yourself, or pass out. Some hunters go down in the woods to have a heart attack then where will you be?

There is nothing wrong with asking for help. If whoever doesn't want to help you find someone with character that will. There is always a way, might take you a while to get there, or find a friend or two to get your back, but keep trying and doing. Eventually it will come and they will find out they found a diamond and not a piece of coal; when coal was all that surrounded them.

P.S. So going to get a ticket from the DNR.

Written by: W Harley Bloodworth
                  
 

~Courtesy of the AOFH~