There are many dangers that come with Adult-Onset Hunting. They appear in the forms of: an obsession that your beautiful wonderful intelligent wife is not prepared for, the initial cost of buying gear, and then rebuying more gear after you learned the first was atrocious. The least is confronting your inadequacies both mental and physical. The best way to counter these dangers is to find a group of likeminded individuals who can guide you through all the blowdowns that hunting brings.
Que hipster Jesus. The first time I saw him, I was sitting at my desk reviewing row after row of financial data in my little cubicle. Kellen walked in, long and gangly, hair flowing like Fabio. He had that bright red lanyard hanging out of his pocket, one that every Marine gets from their local recruiter. If you have ever seen The Walking Dead, you’d immediately recognize him as a doppelganger to the character, Jesus. From the jump, I recognized him as a Marine brother, skillfully disguised behind his long hair, carefree attitude, and random stretch sessions on the work floor. We quickly connected over our military stories, joy for hunting podcasts, and a menagerie of other experiences. On the background of his laptop, was a picture of him with a turkey.
He held the turkey up in victory, with a sh!% eating grin plastered across his face, and a bow draped over his shoulder. He told me that he shot the turkey near his family’s property on a tiny grass runway airport. He had spotted turkeys coming down from the timbered hills behind the runway to eat the seeds and insects on the runway. The Thunder Chickens had to feel comfortable due to the wide-open spaces and unobstructed visibility. From experience, I can tell you that archery hunting gobblers here is like playing a video game on Legendary mode . To get a shot at the turkeys with his bow, he laid down on the runway and stayed prone for hours as the flock slowly fed towards him. Inch by agonizing inch they came into range. He sat up and drew his massive bow. Once his pins settled, he sent the arrow on its deadly arc. Next thing you know, the flock erupts in a cacophony of gobbles and feathers went flying everywhere. As the pterodactyls scattered, one was left thrashing on the ground. Kellen ran over and bashed the turkey, trying to humanely dispatch the beast. Upon further investigation, he notices that his arrow had sliced the turkey’s legs. He missed the body of the birds, but he was lucky enough to clip its pencil-like legs. That’s hunting, long periods of waiting in uncomfortable positions, taking a shot in an awkward position, a small dash of luck, and copious amounts of chaos. Usually, we see on Instagram a perfect picture of a hunt. The problem with social media is that we never get to see the chaos, nor are we ever shown an animal in pain being finished off.
His story had me entranced, and it enflamed an ember of passion for hunting that had somewhat diminished since my time in the Marines. I pestered him with questions about archery and hunting. He told me about of group friends that he hunted with and shot archery with on weekends. It was a group of veterans that got together to rib on each other, hunt, and hang out.
Many veterans leave military service and often find that they struggle to readapt to the civilian world. Most miss the sense of brotherhood in the military. Along with mental health issues, this is a major factor why 22 veterans commit suicide a day. There are a few very good non-for-profits that help vets, using the hunting community as a source to fight the high suicide rates (See: High Point Adventures, Idaho Backcountry Veterans, The Fallen Outdoors). We often don’t blend well with others because we are not PC, and there is nothing off-limits when it comes to busting balls. At that time in my life, I was experiencing this lack of community. As Kellen talked about his relationship with his hunting buddies, I yearned (I’m going to pay for that word) for such an experience. Every part of me wanted to join the group. In answer to an unspoken prayer, Kellen asked me if I would like to join them shooting at the archery range. I said yes. I hope my former boss never reads this, but I looked for bows on Google at work for hours on end. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I made the mistake that a lot of people do, I went to Bass Pro. I bought one of those packaged deals: Bow, release, arrows, sights. The bowtech at the counter was barely able to shave, but he helped set it up as best as he could. It had been over a decade since I had used a bow, and my first bow was rusting away in my father’s barn, along with any skills I had developed as a young man.
From the start, shooting my bow with Arye, Dallas, and Kellen on the courses at Skookum Archery range was a blast. I was terrible. The guys out shot me every time we went out, but I am very competitive. I would inundate them with questions on how to shoot, what arrows to use, how to fletch my arrows, arrow weight, what release to use, and a myriad of other questions. I would show up to the archery range an hour or two before the others to practice my form or dial in my bow. I forget which one told me to watch John Dudley’s School of Nock on YouTube, but I watched them all and quickly started learning how to improve my form. I began to improve and started challenging the best shooters in the group. To this day they would say, “We have created a monster.” We’d tease each other and the guys made fun of each other about things that happened to them last deer camp. I’d grown up road hunting deer in thick timbered forests, the opportunity to hunt in the high desert seemed like a new and interesting challenge. Despite my anticipation, there was a lot of archery practice and gear to buy before I could.
Arye introduced me to the Kifaru podcast. Aron Snyder and Frank Peralta host the podcast, and they have both been on thousands of hunts. Aron is a master at archery hunting Mule deer and is hilarious. In a lot of their episodes, they talk about tactics and gear. I inhaled their stories like a drowning man inhales oxygen. Slowly, I began to acquire gear based on their recommendations. Hunting is not a cheap pursuit, especially in the beginning. I did quickly learn that boots and glass (binoculars and spotting scopes) are pieces of equipment that you should never skimp on. Like a bow, boots should only be bought after you have tested a range of options. Your feet are one of your most important assets on a hunt, and if you don’t take care of them, you will quickly be out of the hunt. I knew this from my time in the Marine Corps, but I didn’t know about all the amazing options in the civilian world. During this time, I lost my job. Covid was just ramping up in the US, and companies were laying off people in swaths. In hindsight this was fantastic for me. Spring was around the corner, and I was about to receive my first invitation to the Spring Legion, avid turkey hunters.
The Air Force was restricting its personnel from working, therefore Arye had plenty of time to hunt turkeys too. A buddy of his, Joe Exotic (Not the Tiger King), had said that there were flocks running around his neighbor’s property and asked if we wanted to come chase them too. Without hesitation we said yes. Over the course the next few months, we spent a lot of time trying to shoot turkeys with our bows. That first weekend was pure chaos.
Day one, we pulled to far into a field and buried our truck in mud up to the base boards. We spent hours trying to get it out using old fence posts, large branches, and digging on our hands and knees. The truck would not budge. We asked Joe to go ask a neighbor for help. He found this old war Vet who lived on the property over. Mr. Bumfuk (Yes, that is his real name) brought over his old Power Wagon and pulled us free. We thanked him with a case of Keystone. The next day Arye, Joe, and I spent all morning calling to what we thought was turkeys. This was our first time hunting them, and we did not realize that we had been calling Pheasants. It wasn’t until Arye heard one right behind him, turned, and saw the pheasant standing there that we realized our mistake. Joe walked all over the property, getting close, but never closing the deal. I spent all day in the sun, sitting in a sage bush.
We had a good laugh that night around the fire with some good bourbon and cigars in hand. We joked about Bumfuk and calling pheasants until the early hours of the morning. Suffice it to say, we did not shoot anything that weekend. Turkeys are quick, sharp eyed, and have hearing as good as your mom does when she knows your causing trouble 3 rooms away. We had learned a great deal and developed a plan to reattack them the next weekend.
On our next trip, we had an improvement in our hunt. We got close to a few turkeys and called them in. Arye was across a draw, and I was hiding behind my bush on a hillside above. We hiked out to our spots before light and settled for the day. First thing in the morning, the woods lit up with turkeys gobbling as they left their roosts. I had one reporting back to me, every time I scratched away on my pot call. Just as shooting light came, I spotted a jake coming right at me in that awkward fast trot of theirs. It got to what I thought was 20 yards away. As soon as its head went behind a bush, I drew back. It stepped out, and I let fly. My arrow went flying over its back, and it took off like a waddling dart. Later I re-ranged the distance, and it was only 13 yards.
As the morning wore on, Arye began to have birds respond to his call. I sat quietly as I listened to their chirps and gobbles. Finally, I heard a loud “THUMP” and then see a turkey run up the sage covered hill. I quickly ran over to where Arye was and asked him what happened. He was using those large guillotine broadheads that are used to cut a turkey’s head off. As it turns out, he hadn’t sighted his bow with those broadheads, and his arrow dropped low. The turkey stood there, chest out, and the arrow bounced off his chest with hardly a displaced feather. The turkeys survived another day.
The next day we tromped out to our spots to try our tricks again. The day started with an eruption of turkey gobbles and then quickly quieted. Later that evening, the turkeys began coming back in to jump in their roosts. Joe and Arye were setup to intercept as the flock moved in. Mayhem ensued. Through trees I captured glances of Joe running around, bow drawn, and I hear “Thwack Thwack Thwack Thwack Thwack Thwack”. I cleared the trees and there was Joe standing there surrounded by arrows sticking up out of the ground, as he picked up a dead turkey by its legs. He emptied is quiver in pursuit of his query, but he was able to nab one. Over the next few weekends, Arye was able to shoot one with his bow, and I could never close the deal with my bow.
After weekends of frustration, I decided to bust out my shotgun as Spring Turkey season began to wind down. We moved our hunt to an orchard, and after one day of hunting with the shotgun I was able to take my first turkey. Over the course of the next couple days, I was able to fill my other tags. I got a jake and, accidentally, a hen. I spotted a small flock of turkeys moving in on my hiding location. One had a small beard sticking out of its chest. I thought it was a small jake. It was standing just clear of the turkeys. The bird dropped, and so did my head. As I ran up to finish the bird off, I didn’t see a beard. I thought I had killed an illegal bird. I took the bird back to camp and hung it from a tree branch. As I rubbed my hands over the bird, I noticed a tiny bump. I pulled the feathers back, and there under its feathers was the tiniest beard. It was a legal bird, one of those rare, confused hens with a beard. I am not sure if it identified as she, he, or them; but I was relieved and grateful. Although it wasn’t illegal, it did earn me the nickname “Hen Cutter” with the boys. After many weekends spent hunting, Spring was over, and I had a new moniker.
There is an aspect every married adult-onset hunter should consider when developing an addiction to hunting. You should be very aware of how your new obsession will affect your partner. If hunting is already a large part of your life, any new partner can expect that hunting plays a large part in your life and is a drain on your time. On the other hand, if you are deep into a relationship beforehand, you need to have a serious conversation about your new passion. My wife, thankfully, has been extremely patient with my affair called hunting. After many conversations with her, she has relayed the frustrations that come with me disappearing for days/weeks at a time. How hard it is to not know where I am or be able to talk to me for days on end (Something that has been helpful with this has been a GPS texting device, Zoleo). This was my first time spending a great deal of time hunting, and we were learning how to cope with this new entity in our marriage. While she was thinking about spending more time together, I began daydreaming of September and chasing deer.
By Travis Tweet
The American Bowman Chronicles 