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Posts Tagged ‘wilderness’


A few days ago, I had the privilege of going outside and cutting some firewood amidst the confinement, all in preparation for the fall. I had been working away for three hours and had taken my gloves off because my hands began to sweat. I would lift a log into position, then cut away. The smell of fresh Cedars was heavenly. A few Mallard ducks flew over head calling out faintly and the geese were feeding peacefully nearby in the water.

The cedar stumps were very large and under one of the last pieces I failed to notice a wild rose branch stuck on the inside. In one vigorous lifting motion with the stump in hand, I stood up and the thorn cut through my hand like razor wire.

There was quite a sting to the cut, but I continued to lift another piece of Cedar. The second stump had a tear in its bark. The open part exposed some resin, which accidentally smeared onto my cut and this instantly stopped the bleeding as well as the pain. Another helpful thing is that just like pine resin, it also reduced the inflammation. Within days it was all healed up. Gotta love nature.

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For the newcomers to this great north american continent, the wilderness was a vast expanse to explore and survive, for the first nations it was their home. I believe that no matter how you interpret the wilderness, it is much greater than us, and our short history will remain an insignificant slice in this phenomenon called time.

There is one thing for sure, if you spend enough time in its core, it will become part of your very fabric and its mysteries will reveal themselves to you. This is of course, if you learn to interpret what the wilderness has to share.

A few weeks, ago I was immersed in the great white spruce cathedrals of this wonderful northern country with my hunting buddy, I had just taken a few steps forward breaking the snow crust surface with my snowshoes. We were pursuing the elusive snowshoe hare, when I suddenly turned to my buddy and said the following “I don’t know why but I can feel a great amount of energy in this area, I know we are being watched.”

My buddy, tells me I was like a hare whisperer, I knew that I could not put into words the very feeling but it was overwhelming. I took four more calculated steps, all the while looking into the dark shadows at the base of every tree, and almost in an instant on my left there was the hare in its famous freeze pose just like the Robert Bateman painting.

In a flash, I swivelled to the left, released the safety, aimed and fired. Once the smoke and snow cleared, my harvest was confirmed. It is difficult for me to share in writing the energy I felt and this almost instinctive hunt.

It is an experience or a slice of time in the wilderness, that transcends all modern logic and technology, it is pure mastery of the woods, which to this day leaves me humbled.

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It was raining heavily with the winds howling all around me, in an Easterly direction. I had been walking for several minutes now through the wetlands, between the ice sheets and the cattails. As the bottom of my boots crushed the crisp swamp grass, with my every breath and step, I was nearing the edge of the dark forest and the river bank.

I was all alone heading deeper into the fog, brought on by the warming temperatures. As I breached the tree line, I was engulfed by the pure white mist. I stopped for a moment, looked back and then stared at the hidden frozen watering holes in the woods, capturing the absolute.

It was only half past three in the afternoon but it felt much later than this, as the darkness creeps in earlier this time of year. I pushed forward toward the banks and soon was met with the wall of ice about twenty meters in length. Its outer edge was cut and had jagged pieces of ice sticking out, it was rubbing against the central ice sheet located in the middle of the river, and this piece was hundreds of meters long.

Just like the earths tectonic plates, the ice sheets were crushing each other and producing this incredible sound of shattering glass. I had already experienced duck hunting this time of year and knew that I could make it out about my waist in height to retrieve a harvest but that any further would be deadly. I would have to plan all my shots, so that the birds would land in a safe area.

Moments later, I was now well hidden behind some majestic trees, right along the edge of the river, I started calling geese and ducks, followed by many minutes of silence. Finally, my calling and patience paid off, I had a flock of Canada’s fly over but they were too high and out of range. They responded to my calls and I tried my best to imitate their call and attempt to interpret which call would draw them in best. I worked them hard, as I have successfully in the past, but they soon disappeared into the fog.

I had a second faint call in the distance and soon realized that it was a lone goose, floating through the middle of the river amongst the great ice pieces and dark waters. I called and was waiting for a response, I worked on this bird heavily but it was all in vain, the current carried the Canada right down the middle and it did not bite and come back over the ice. It flapped its wings and responded but it too disappeared into the mist toward the East.

Just like the final page in a book closing itself, my season on the river was coming to its end, and the last image I had was that of this Canada goose, calling out faintly and fading away in the white mist amongst the ice sheets of this northern land.

I went home without firing a shot but this is sometimes the reality of the hunt, and as a seasoned waterfowler, I am grateful for my time in our great Canadian wilderness.

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Everyone experiences a moment in time, when there is a shift in their thinking, you accept who you have become, what you have accomplished and all of a sudden things seem a whole lot simpler. Living a life free of judgement.

As a result the simplest of things in life become extremely rewarding. Over the past few months, I had been saving up to pick up a Stoeger M3500 but life kept on throwing me curve balls, I had no choice but to go back to the drawing board and conduct more research.

One night after work, I decided to go for a nice drive through the country roads, the breeze on my face was heavenly, a little country music did not hurt either. I drove out to one of the small towns nearby and stopped in a local sports shop, and came across an Inertia driven shotgun with the similar mechanism to that of the Stoeger, it was the Girsan MC-312. The price was a fit for my current budget and so it became my new duck gun for the fall.

I took it out to my friend’s farms to break it in and possibly harvest a few pigeons, the fact that it was so light weight compared to my 870, made it incredibly easy to manoeuvre through the brush and along the creeks.

Once the cattle cleared the field to the north, I was able to harvest a woodchuck on the edge of the forest, that the farmer wanted removed. It was my first shot out of the Girsan. I had some left over two and three quarter, number three shells from last fall and it cycled perfect.

The waterfowl season will be here soon and I know that with my new duck gun, I will have many stories to share, it will be simple Girsan time.

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There is hunting, then there is hunting, a way of life that transcends all earthly boundaries, politics, religion or level of worth or even power. It is hunting that provides healing, solidifies family relationships along with its traditions and in the end is defined by sustenance.

When I look at the stats on my blog and see the readers from all over the world, it is clear to me that there are no borders to our passion, you can be a Gazelle hunter in Central-Africa or a bird hunter in the Middle East or a wild boar hunter in America.

I can be deep in the Canadian wilderness pursuing my game and when I take a moment to look up at the sun through the clouds, I realize that I am not alone and that under the very same sun in a different time zone either in a desert or in a lush jungle, someone is sharing my love for hunting.

Thank you to all the readers from all over our world.

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“The darkness and the cold envelops you like a blanket, the wind howls and makes sounds like that of wicked spirits calling out. Tis the season of toxic mud gases and weeds that weigh a ton, and wrap themselves around your paddle like mad fingers who wish to pull you down into the depths of the black waters. A few more powerful strokes and the harvest might be yours or not, it is unyielding and painful yet so rewarding. It is healing, it is medicine for the soul.” CSGH

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Hang on! Before I start typing, let me turn on Kane Brown -Heaven on “Youtube”…ok now I am ready.

Like many outdoorsmen and women out there, I love to watch videos about hunting, my favourite one’s have to be about waterfowl, either from ground blinds or jump shooting from a canoe or kayak.

Not only do I pick up on new tips and tricks but I also really enjoy watching some of the great hunts that have been captured on film, in addition I love having some great laughs, especially when watching “Outlaw” videos on Dippin’ and Huntin’ geese.

It brings back memories of dippin’ with my buds when I was younger, sharing awesome moments.

Many of those videos out there often host a guide or two and their role is vital to a successful hunt with regards to the harvesting of game. I am normally the hunter out there and it has been like this for years and I have also made some great vids too with my GoPro but in the past couple years, I have had several opportunities to be a guide. I always had my doubts about my abilities as a guide but after having taken several buds on successful duck and Canada goose hunts and now this weekend turkey hunting, I am slowly transforming into a seasoned guide.

Knowledge is definitely a large part of being a great guide, but also having the right equipment for example turkey decoys, a tent/blind and a good turkey caller is key, especially for my upcoming weekend. Then there are other attributes like having confidence about your decisions, and having a great understanding of the game that you are pursuing and its environment.

There are many other important factors to being a guide, like having the ability to take responsibility for the mistakes made because in some cases even if it may not always be said, the hunters will lay the blame on you as the guide for their unsuccessful harvests, even if it was mother nature’s doing.

My whole life I have been surrounded by institutions that solely exists based on theories and this just does not work out in the field. Part of being a guide is also earning confidence and trust from the hunters, and this is easily obtained by being modest and having proven field experience, this can be as easy as having great stories based on field time or a simple picture of you with a harvested Turkey or geese in your den.

This will not be my last blog about being a guide because it is simply an intriguing subject and so vast. Until next time remember to be respectful of your guide and keep in mind their proven field experience and learn to trust their instincts.

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